Chapter Twelve: Who Is Outwitting Whom

On the auction stage, Dong Chen was still introducing the Song Dynasty shadow porcelain wind-listening vase to the audience, while below, Bai Yu was tirelessly persuading Zhao Fan to bid on the item being auctioned.

Bai Yu said with ill intent, "Let me tell you, antique wind-listening vases are rare. If you miss this chance, you won’t find another. If you want to bid, I can lend you the money. Pay me back later, no interest. How about it?"

Zhao Fan’s face showed a struggle. "What you’re saying... it does sound tempting..."

Yang Yuqing interjected, "Bai Yu, what are you doing? That’s just a replica wind-listening vase. It’s not worth much. How can you encourage—"

"Yuqing, don’t say that about Young Master Bai. He means well," Zhao Fan interrupted with an honest smile, moving closer to Bai Yu and rubbing his hands together. "So, what Bai Yu just said—is it true?"

He’d never met anyone so eager to hand him money.

Thinking of the wind-listening vase from his previous life, Bai Yu suppressed his inner amusement and nodded solemnly. "Of course it’s true. So, do you want the loan? The auction is starting."

As Bai Yu spoke, bids rang out nearby.

Zhao Fan gritted his teeth, perfectly playing the role of someone lured by temptation. "I’ll bid, but Young Master Bai, I have one condition."

"Go ahead."

Seeing Zhao Fan step into his trap, Bai Yu was calm, smiling as he waited for Zhao Fan’s terms.

"You lend me the money, and after the auction, I’ll write you an IOU."

"No problem."

"And the IOU must state that if the item is genuine, Young Master Bai can’t claim the auctioned item for any reason."

Zhao Fan spoke seriously, his face stubborn. The opportunity to profit with nothing invested had appeared; he wouldn’t let it slip away. Thinking of the wind-listening vase’s resale price later, Zhao Fan felt a thrill.

Yang Yuqing’s heart skipped a beat, unable to hold back. "Zhao Fan, what are you talking about? That’s just a replica. Anything over a hundred thousand is too much. Besides, you just bought a porcelain bowl—"

Zhao Fan’s expression was grave. "Don’t say any more. Young Master Bai would never cheat me. Young Master Bai, what about the terms?"

Bai Yu clicked his tongue, hiding his malice. "No problem, I agree to all your conditions."

Their eyes met, both wearing friendly smiles.

Just then, the bidding stalled at one hundred and twenty thousand. Without hesitation, Zhao Fan raised his paddle. "One hundred and fifty thousand."

Dong Chen immediately locked onto Zhao Fan. Seeing paddle 85, he instantly knew who it was—a newcomer to antiques.

"Alright, bidder 85 offers one hundred and fifty thousand. Any higher bids? Though it’s a replica, the wind-listening vase is still an antique. You won’t lose by taking it home."

"One hundred and sixty thousand."

Someone to Zhao Fan’s right raised their paddle.

"Good, one hundred and sixty thousand. Any more bids? The wind-listening vase—"

"One hundred and seventy thousand!"

Zhao Fan raised his paddle again.

A brief silence fell over the auction hall. Could a replica Song shadow porcelain wind-listening vase really be worth this much?

Zhao Fan lowered his eyes, barely containing his excitement. In his previous life, the vase sold for two hundred thousand; this time, it wouldn’t be much different. Remembering the Christie’s resale price, Zhao Fan pressed his lips together. He had to secure the item first.

Dong Chen waited a minute. When no one spoke, he began the first countdown.

"One hundred and seventy thousand, first call."

Zhao Fan looked up, his heart pounding uncontrollably. Twelve million was within reach.

Dong Chen spoke again. "One hundred and seventy thousand, second call."

Zhao Fan’s grip on the paddle tightened, eyes fixed ahead. Just one more countdown, and the Song shadow porcelain wind-listening vase would be his.

"One hundred and seventy thousand, third—"

"Two hundred thousand."

A calm, unruffled voice suddenly cut in, interrupting Dong Chen’s third call.

Zhao Fan’s eyes darkened. Just two more words—damn, who was it that spoke at the last moment?

Before Zhao Fan could search for the bidder, Dong Chen announced the paddle number.

"Paddle 2 bids two hundred thousand. Any higher offers?"

Dong Chen asked, but his gaze was fixed on Zhao Fan.

He’d already seen through it. Everyone here was an old hand, aware the Song shadow porcelain wind-listening vase wasn’t worth a high price, each holding their breath. But this newcomer wasn’t; he’d just bought a questionable Ru kiln bowl for four hundred and twenty thousand, proving he didn’t really understand antiques.

"Any more bids?"

"Two hundred thousand, first call."

Dong Chen counted down. Zhao Fan snorted coldly. "Two hundred and fifty thousand. I’ll have this vase today, no matter what!"

Paddle 2—just the number showed the bidder wasn’t ordinary. Where was he sitting?

The quiet auction hall let Zhao Fan’s words carry. Many eyes turned his way, but Zhao Fan discreetly searched for paddle 2.

He finally confirmed paddle 2 sat among the eastern crowd, where the wealthy and influential gathered.

As Zhao Fan searched for paddle 2, whispers rose all around.

"85, isn’t he the one who just bought the Ru kiln bowl?"

"Yes, it’s him."

"Sitting with the Bai family’s young master—he’s probably a newcomer, right?"

"A wealthy newcomer, by the look of it."

The whispers swelled. Zhao Fan feigned ignorance, withdrew his gaze, and engaged paddle 2 in a tug-of-war bidding.

Back and forth, the price for the Song shadow porcelain wind-listening vase slowly climbed. Meanwhile, Zhao Fan finally saw paddle 2—a lean young man with a commanding presence, hard to ignore even sitting.

Who was paddle 2? The question flashed through Zhao Fan’s mind.

"One million."

Paddle 2 doubled the bid.

Zhao Fan, as if provoked, instantly jumped up. "Two million!"

A collective gasp swept the auction hall. A replica Song shadow porcelain wind-listening vase had reached two million—unbelievable.

Yet the shock wasn’t over; Zhao Fan and paddle 2 continued bidding, steadily heading toward three million.

By now, even Bai Yu was stunned. He’d wanted to watch Zhao Fan make a fool of himself, but now he was the one under scrutiny. If Zhao Fan won, Bai Yu couldn’t produce several million.

Damn, things were getting out of control.

No one knew Bai Yu’s thoughts. All eyes were fixated on Zhao Fan and paddle 2’s bidding, the same thought in everyone’s mind: this replica Song shadow porcelain wind-listening vase might fetch the highest price at this auction.

When the price reached two million nine hundred thousand, paddle 2 spoke. "Paddle 85, I really like this vase. Are you sure you want to keep bidding?"

Zhao Fan raised his chin. "Of course. I like it, it suits my taste."

Paddle 2 smiled. "I understand your fondness, but can you afford it?"

"If I dare to bid, I can pay."

With that, Zhao Fan raised his paddle again. "Three million."

Thus, the first high price of this auction appeared.