Chapter 377: Qionglong Stone Shadow: A Feast for the Collectors' World

Watching the stage below start to be set with tables and display stands, I immediately knew the auction I'd seen on the notice earlier was about to begin. The suddenly dimmed surroundings and restless voices made me a bit uneasy. Seeing that old woman's inscrutable expression, I had a premonition that I might have done something stupid, and that it was definitely related to this auction.

Thoughts flashed through my mind like lightning, but I couldn't figure out the catch for the moment; I only felt as if the stool under me had grown thorns, becoming uncomfortable.

My pride made me try to appear calm, but I knew with my composure it would be hard to completely hide my feelings in front of this old veteran. Yet at this point, not hiding would be worse than standing up and admitting defeat and leaving. I was conflicted, but after thinking it over, I could only steel myself and wait it out.

I glanced at Fatty for courage; he was a bit uneasy too. This wasn't his territory, so he looked nervous as well. But then I thought, we've been through mountains of knives and seas of fire—what could happen here? At worst, we'd get thrown out; it wouldn't cost us our heads.

With that thought, I immediately relaxed, smiled at the old woman, and thought, you underestimate me too much. I've been through life-and-death situations several times; this kind of scene is nothing.

So I sat up straight and focused on what was happening below.

On the stage, an auction platform and display pedestals were quickly set up. A person who looked like staff went up with a microphone to test it, and others were adjusting the lights. They all wore service uniforms. It didn't seem like an auction company running it, but as rumored, it was a private internal auction, a playground for insiders.

Fatty had told me earlier while we were waiting that the most special thing about the auctions here was that they didn't care about experts or scholars; it was all about eyesight and connections. Because most of the items sold here couldn't be appraised, or had never even been seen before. You had no baseline for your bid; if you thought something could sell for around five million, but the seller's channel could find a buyer willing to pay ten million, you had no way to compete.

In other words, to play here, you first had to know what was being sold and what it was worth before you could open your mouth. You had to react in an extremely short time. So it could be said that this was the most thrilling place for antique collectors in Beijing.

Moreover, the scariest thing was that you could also buy fakes here. You had to be a master with sharp eyes yourself, because the fakes that made it into this place might have transcended the category of fakes. In popular terms, they were something called "original single items" – a concept from online shopping recently. It meant these goods were genuine products made by the real factory, but the factory bypassed the brand and sold them directly. So you got an item with exactly the same quality and details as the genuine one, but it was an awkward thing that wasn't the authentic product.

Of course, in the collecting world, "original single items" weren't surplus orders from ancient factories. Rather, they were modern counterfeiters using extremely skilled techniques to perfectly replicate something identical to the real thing. These were absolutely fakes, but you couldn't find any flaws through any authentication method. Such things had already appeared in today's antique world. The cost of making one such item was also extremely high; maybe only one succeeded out of a thousand attempts. So naturally, they would try to maximize profit from that one masterpiece. Thus, they would inevitably appear in the highest-end markets.

It was nearly impossible to distinguish such fakes. The only way was by intuition: one was intuition about the seller—whether his demeanor and psychological details seemed suspicious; another was a sixth sense about the type of antique. Also, a few masters could judge through artistic details. For example, with blue-and-white porcelain, the entire piece might be flawless, but some artists could spot issues in the brushwork of the blue. After all, the skill of ancient porcelain masters in applying blue glaze had a certain charm that modern copyists couldn't imitate. But such issues were often hard to use as conclusive evidence, because the quality of art is subjective.

In short, the auction here could be called a top-tier feast for broadening one's horizons. Anything could happen; anything could appear. This time, Fatty had spotted several titans of the collecting world, plus Old Madam Huo was here. Clearly, flies had smelled something tasty—there had to be something amazing here. Thinking about it, I couldn't help getting a bit excited.

Soon, the noise below grew louder. The equipment was ready. A female emcee in a cheongsam tested the mic and said to the audience: "The auction is about to begin. Non-participants please leave. We will be closing the doors shortly. Please keep quiet inside. The attendants can start distributing the auction catalogs and collecting handprints." The emcee had long hair flowing over her shoulders, a very slender waist and long legs. Wearing a cheongsam, she had the feel of a wealthy lady from the Republic of China era. Seeing such a beautiful woman serving as emcee here made me sigh. I remembered that on the door of my grandfather's old house, there were two door knockers—a pair of Song Dynasty gilt lion-head knockers. Unlike other knockers, these had rings carved from antique jade in the shape of coiled chi dragons, and they were double-layered, meaning openwork carving. Inside the hollow jade ring was another jade ring, which was carved into a hornless dragon.

Anyone in the know would see those knockers and know they were priceless—probably several times more valuable than the entire house. My grandfather had specially designed them to tell people about the family's power: "Look, such expensive things I use as door knockers, not afraid of theft or damage. That means the goods inside this house are much more valuable than these knockers. Friends looking for bargains won't dare enter after seeing these knockers." In Chinese business, you still had to pay attention to the facade.

Thinking about it, no wonder my own shop was so desolate—hadn't been renovated in years. Maybe next time I should have Wang Meng wear a cheongsam? The noise downstairs grew louder. I saw people leaving one after another. The second floor was a circular structure; countless rooms like ours formed a ring facing the stage in the center below. I saw that next to us and across from us, many screens had been moved aside, and many people had moved from their dining tables to seats overlooking the show.

I looked carefully and saw Pink Shirt in a private box on the left across from us. He seemed to be alone, playing on his phone. On the other side, Fatty pointed subtly for me to look at a box opposite us that was as large as ours. He whispered: "Liu Li Sun."

That spot was a bit far from us, hard to see clearly. At that moment, I noticed that in all the other boxes, the furnishings were similar: a root-carved table and a few chairs. But no matter how many people, everyone was sitting on the left-side chairs. Only the right-side chairs—the one I was sitting in—were all empty. I started to break out in a cold sweat.

Just as I was feeling agitated, someone moved aside the screen behind us. A waiter came up with a tray covered in red cloth. On the tray was a hardcover booklet. I saw that it was the one who had invited us. He came to the old lady and suddenly saw me. Then I saw his face turn green; he froze.

It took him a while to react, and he immediately asked: "Ma'am, hasn't your friend sat in the wrong seat?"

The old woman looked at him: "What? Haven't seen this kind of scene in a long time? Can't believe anyone still dares to sit here? Yes, it's been over ten years since Old Changsheng sat here, no one has dared to sit in this seat for a long time. But the items being auctioned today are once-in-a-century, so it's fitting that a few reckless people show up. Get this Mr. Wu a catalog as well. Serve him well, and let him broaden his horizons."

"Got it!" The waiter looked at me with fear and immediately turned around. Soon, a copy of the catalog arrived in my hands, along with a pot of top-quality Biluochun tea and four plates of very exquisite snacks.

I remembered this pot of tea cost over seven thousand. I found it strange and asked him with my eyes. He said: "Boss, this is a gift from our head waiter. Please enjoy. If you need anything, call us immediately." Then he left at once.

I looked at Fatty, feeling bewildered and very uneasy. Fatty gave me a wink telling me not to worry. He had already opened the catalog and started looking through it eagerly. After flipping two pages, I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.