Chapter Thirteen: Encountering a Business Tycoon

The bidding for the Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Wind-listening Vase stalled after reaching three million. After Zhao Fan put down his bidding paddle, Dong Chen once again took the opportunity to stir up the atmosphere with a rather passionate tone.

However, this time, Bidder No. 2 didn’t play along.

“You did well. I’m withdrawing from this round,” he said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, as if to prove his point.

A flash of regret appeared in Dong Chen’s eyes. He knew the bidding had truly stalled this time, so he wrapped things up without delay and began the final countdown.

As the gavel fell, the Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Wind-listening Vase officially became Zhao Fan’s.

Perhaps influenced by this piece, the prices for subsequent auction items all soared well above market value.

Of course, this was partly thanks to the bidding war between Zhao Fan and Bidder No. 2, but it also spoke to the quality of the lots on offer.

When the auction ended, Zhao Fan slung his arm around Bai Yu’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie.

“Young Master Bai, now that the auction’s over, about that money…”

Bai Yu’s eyes flickered. “Well, I can’t access the funds right away.”

Seeing Bai Yu’s evasiveness, Zhao Fan feigned innocence. “Why not? Didn’t you say before you could lend me the money? How come, all of a sudden… Oh, my mistake, I forgot the money isn’t really yours.”

Bai Yu glared at him. “What nonsense are you spouting? It’s my money. But three million is a lot—I’d need at least a—”

“It’s fine, Young Master Bai. If you can’t put up three million, I can.”

Patting Bai Yu on the shoulder, Zhao Fan stepped back in the face of Bai Yu’s astonished look and followed the auction staff out.

Bai Yu was stunned. That pauper couldn’t even afford a car—how could he possibly come up with three million?

No, Zhao Fan also won a porcelain bowl for four hundred and twenty thousand. That meant he had to pay a total of three million, four hundred and twenty thousand. How could he…

“Yuqing, is your friend just putting on a show, planning to run off midway?”

Three million, four hundred and twenty thousand—even as the young master of the Bai family, he couldn’t just pull out that much so easily.

“He, he…”

Yang Yuqing’s expression was complicated. She slipped off the bracelet and pressed it into Bai Yu’s hand.

“Enough, Bai Yu. Here’s your bracelet back. Thank you for the thought, but I’m sorry—I can’t accept it.”

She brushed past him and quickly left, head lowered. She didn’t like gifts that were forced upon her.

Staring blankly at the bracelet, Bai Yu finally looked up, his features twisted with rage. How dare Yang Yuqing reject his goodwill.

“Yuqing, stop right there!”

Bai Yu tried to chase after her, but was stopped by staff.

“Young Master Bai, please come this way to settle your payment.”

“What’s the rush? Do you think I’d renege on this payment? Move aside, I have to catch up with someone…”

“Sorry, Young Master Bai, but we need to clear payments before guests leave. If you go, we’ll be held responsible.”

“Nonsense! I’m the Bai family’s young master—do you think I’d default? I’m telling you, let—”

In the midst of the commotion, Dong Chen arrived. “What’s going on here?”

The staff stepped back, and one of them quickly explained the situation.

“My apologies, Young Master Bai,” Dong Chen said. “Our staff were out of line; please don’t take it to heart. Here—the bracelet is yours. Please accept it as a token of our regret. What do you think?”

Bai Yu fixated on Dong Chen. “Are you looking down on me?”

Was he the sort of person who would accept an auction item as an apology gift?

Dong Chen feigned surprise. “What are you saying, Young Master Bai? It’s just a standard gesture. Don’t worry, we’re very discreet here—no one will hear of this incident.”

“Shut up!”

In a fit of rage, Bai Yu grabbed Dong Chen’s collar, raising his fist.

Meanwhile, Zhao Fan had followed staff to settle his payment by card. Watching as his items were carefully packed into custom cases, he finally let out a breath of relief.

Now, the items officially belonged to him.

“Mr. Zhao, here’s your receipt…”

The staff handed everything over efficiently.

Ten minutes later, Zhao Fan left with his cases. Up ahead, he spotted Bai Yu gripping Dong Chen’s collar, ready to swing.

That gesture drew Zhao Fan’s gaze to the bracelet in Bai Yu’s hand.

Hadn’t he given that to Yang Yuqing? How did Bai Yu have it again?

Puzzled for a moment, Zhao Fan noted their position. Realizing he couldn’t avoid passing them, he handed his cases to an accompanying staff member, rolled up his sleeves, and strode over—pulling the two apart, one in each hand.

“Peace brings prosperity.”

Dong Chen calmly straightened his rumpled clothes. “Hello, No. 85.”

The high bid for the Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Wind-listening Vase had made Dong Chen remember Zhao Fan’s paddle number. His face was utterly composed, betraying no emotion.

Zhao Fan let go. “Hello, my name is Zhao Fan.”

Dong Chen immediately switched his address. “Mr. Zhao.”

“Let go!” Bai Yu shook Zhao Fan off, his gaze venomous as he stared at Dong Chen. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. I want to see how you—”

“Is this how people from the Bai family behave?”

A sudden question cut Bai Yu off. Everyone turned to see a slender young man approaching, surrounded by attendants.

It was Bidder No. 2.

Zhao Fan’s eyes narrowed. Was No. 2 here for the Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Wind-listening Vase?

He himself had dared bid three million because of his experience from his past life—he knew the vase was genuine. But what about No. 2? Why had he kept bidding?

“Hello, I’m Wu Qingfeng. Here’s my card.” No. 2 greeted him and handed over an elegant business card.

Zhao Fan instinctively took it, immediately noticing the line beneath Wu Qingfeng’s name: President of Yuanhong Group.

Yuanhong Group—the president himself!

In Zhao Fan’s previous life, by the time he died, Yuanhong Group had become the most renowned company both at home and abroad, with interests in every sector. Wu Qingfeng had repeatedly topped the world’s wealth rankings—a true business titan.

Even now, Wu Qingfeng’s worth was formidable.

Zhao Fan had only come to the auction hoping for a bargain, but instead, he’d crossed paths with a business giant.

Why?

“President Wu, you…”

Wu Qingfeng smiled. “You have a good eye.”

That single sentence made Zhao Fan instantly understand Wu Qingfeng’s meaning—he’d recognized the Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Wind-listening Vase as genuine!

A true titan—his discernment was truly impressive.

Wu Qingfeng didn’t linger. After exchanging contact information with Zhao Fan, he left with his entourage.

Bai Yu sneered, “You spent three million on a counterfeit. Both you and Wu Qingfeng must be blind.”

“Better that than going back on one’s word,” Zhao Fan replied, retrieving his cases and shooting Bai Yu a glance. “First you forced a gift on someone, then tried to set me up. If you had the money, fine—but if you don’t, stop your yapping. Anyone who knows you might call you Young Master Bai, but to outsiders, you’re just some nobody from a forgotten corner.”

With a wave, Zhao Fan walked off. “If you can’t handle yourself, stay out of sight—don’t embarrass your family.”

Behind him, Bai Yu’s face turned ashen.