Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Wager is Made

That smile was the last straw for Bai Yu; in his eyes, it was nothing short of a provocation. As the instigator, Zhao Fan immediately became his target.

“Zhao Fan, you’re quite something, aren’t you?”

“Thank you for the compliment. I think so too.”

Bai Yu was so furious that he actually laughed. “Zhao Fan, do you even know what the word ‘death’ looks like?”

Zhao Fan feigned fear. “Is the Bai family provoking the law? Oh, I’m so scared.”

Though he said he was afraid, the smile on Zhao Fan’s face betrayed no hint of fear. His calm demeanor, under the attentive gazes around them, only fueled Bai Yu’s anger. Yet for reasons unknown, Bai Yu forcibly suppressed his temper.

“Zhao Fan, care to place a bet?”

“A bet? On what?”

“Not long ago, didn’t you buy a Song Dynasty-style porcelain Listening Wind Vase at auction?”

At the mention of the Song Dynasty-style Listening Wind Vase, the crowd stirred.

“I remember that. I heard the vase was bought by a newcomer—three million. That was considered an inflated price.”

“Isn’t the key point that the vase was a reproduction? Paying three million for a copy is a lot.”

“Come off it. If it weren’t a reproduction, three million wouldn’t even be a fraction of its worth. Who’d expect to buy it at auction otherwise?”

“That’s true.”

The crowd’s discussion filled the air. Zhao Fan tilted his head slightly; he knew the real crux of the matter. Others claimed it was a reproduction, but with memories from his previous life, he knew the truth.

Bai Yu’s mention of the vase—was he planning to use it to put Zhao Fan in his place? Though Zhao Fan had no desire to clash with him, Bai Yu’s repeated provocations left him unwilling to endure further.

“That’s right, the vase is with me. What do you want to bet?”

“A second auction.”

Zhao Fan laughed. “And why would I do that?”

“Aren’t you curious how much your vase might fetch if resold?”

One hundred and twenty million.

Zhao Fan silently responded in his heart but said aloud, “I am curious, but what does that have to do with you? The vase is mine—what happens to it is up to me. It’s none of your business, is it?”

“Fifty million.”

Bai Yu named a figure.

“What do you mean?”

“If your Song-style Listening Wind Vase sells for fifty million, the land my family recently acquired is yours.”

“The land the Bai family just acquired?” Zhao Fan repeated, instinctively looking to the side. “Manager Mu, what’s the story here?”

“We acquired it for thirty million, in the east of the city.”

The east? Zhao Fan’s heart skipped a beat. In the coming years, the city’s development would focus on the east, but for now, it was little more than a wasteland—even the river there was dry. For thirty million, the plot must be sizable.

“Are you really willing to part with it?”

“Why not? If your vase sells for fifty million, it’s yours. Otherwise, you’ll owe me something of equal value.”

Zhao Fan smiled slightly. “If we’re betting, why not raise the stakes?”

“What do you mean?”

“One hundred million. If my vase sells for that, your land is mine. If not, I’ll compensate you in equal value.”

Bai Yu scoffed. “Do you even have a hundred million to your name?”

“Whether I do or not is my concern. All you need to do is agree. Are you in?”

To imagine a reproduction of a Song-style Listening Wind Vase selling for one hundred million was sheer delusion. That sentiment was written all over Bai Yu’s face, but his words were different.

“With odds like that, aren’t I getting the better end of the deal?”

Everyone knew the vase was a copy, sold for three million at auction—how could it possibly fetch one hundred million?

Somewhat kinder souls couldn’t help but interject, “Don’t be reckless, young man. The experts all authenticated that vase as a reproduction, which is why it was auctioned. Three million is already more than it’s worth; there’s no way it could go higher.”

“That’s right. Fifty million is out of the question, let alone a hundred million. Don’t risk your entire future on this.”

Advice came from all sides, the atmosphere lively and charged. Standing at the center, Zhao Fan let the voices wash over him, unmoved.

Bai Yu’s eyes flickered. Given the choice between one hundred million and fifty million, anyone would know which to pick. After all, everyone knew the vase was a reproduction. It was a sure win—why not take the bet?

“No problem. If your vase sells for one hundred million, the land is yours.”

At that moment, another voice chimed in, “To ensure fairness, our family will make up the remaining seventy million.”

Zhao Fan turned toward the voice and saw a middle-aged man standing with Yang Tiancheng.

Mu Tianrong whispered, “That’s the Bai family patriarch.”

So, Bai Yu’s father.

Zhao Fan said, “Good day, Patriarch Bai. Thank you in advance for the one hundred million from your family.”

His meaning was clear: he was certain of victory.

The Bai family head smiled. “We’ll be waiting for you to collect it.”

Ignorant child, you know nothing.

Not lingering, Zhao Fan left at once. The night wind swept away the agitation he’d picked up in the banquet hall. He ran a hand over his face and clicked his tongue.

He hadn’t planned to sell the vase, but now, thanks to the Bai family’s wager, he had no choice but to find a way to do so.

In his previous life, the vase fetched one hundred and twenty million at Christie’s in Hong Kong. To avoid mishaps, he would have to send it there. That meant he couldn’t stay in the city for now.

Thinking of Zhao Yun’er in the hospital and his elder brother, Zhao Fan decided to return home first.

The bet only required him to auction the vase; there was no deadline. Zhao Fan still had time.

That night, he told his father he might have to leave.

“I won’t be leaving right away, but I could go at any time. You may have to keep an eye on my brother. Here’s a bank card—if it’s not enough, call me. I don’t think I’ll be gone long.”

His father glanced at the card Zhao Fan slid over and asked, “How many days will you be away?”

“Ten days if all goes well. If not, perhaps half a month, maybe up to a month.”

“I understand,” his father said quietly, putting away the card.

“Oh, the villa renovations are almost finished, but we’ll have to wait a bit before moving in.”

“I know.” A newly renovated house needed to be aired out for at least six months.

Business concluded, Zhao Fan returned to his room to study.

The next day, he went to supervise the supermarket renovations, keeping an eye on things as he reviewed his books.

It was then that Mu Tianrong called.

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m overseeing the supermarket renovation. What’s the matter, Manager Mu?”