Chapter 86: Another Wind-listening Jar

An hour later, the Zhao family returned home.

Zhao Yuner blinked her large eyes, staring at Zhao Fan from a short distance away. She asked, “Does it hurt?”

Zhao Fan raised an eyebrow. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

Zhao Yuner glanced around and whispered, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Zhao Fan smiled. “Why should it hurt?”

“People stay in the hospital because they’re sick, and being sick hurts a lot.”

She was still very young, and all her understanding came from her own memories of hospitalization. In her mind, being in the hospital meant being ill—and that meant pain, a lot of pain.

Looking at Zhao Yuner, Zhao Fan’s expression softened, his heart aching for her. She was just a little girl, yet she had already suffered more than many adults ever would.

He sighed and drew Zhao Yuner into his arms, picking up an orange from the table and peeling it. “Come, have some orange.”

Zhao Yuner took a big bite.

“Is it sweet?”

“It’s sweet.”

“Then have some more.”

By the time Zhao Fan was feeding her the third orange segment, Zhao’s mother emerged from the kitchen. The sight of the orange peels made her anxious.

“What are you doing? How can you let a child eat so many oranges?”

She scolded Zhao Fan thoroughly, and it wasn’t until Zhao Haitian intervened that Zhao Fan was finally rescued.

Outside, snow had begun to drift down again at some point. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and harmonious, filled with happiness and comfort.

At eight o’clock in the evening, Zhao Fan appeared on the top floor of the Tianyuan Hotel as scheduled.

His gaze swept the room, noticing many familiar faces already present. Truth be told, he had attended quite a few such gatherings and recognized quite a few people, but he had never actually exchanged greetings with any of them.

Among those present at this banquet, there was a tacit understanding: familiarity did not equate to conversation.

After a while, Zhao Fan suddenly sensed something was off—why were so many foreigners arriving in the latter half of the crowd?

In fact, he wasn’t the only one who noticed; others did, too. But given the venue, no one voiced their suspicions, keeping their doubts to themselves.

Fifteen minutes later, Wang Er appeared as the host.

At his signal, staff members appeared and, as per custom, distributed bidding paddles to everyone. Zhao Fan received number 103.

“Tonight’s auction has only one lot, and after tonight, there will never be another auction like this.”

Wang Er’s opening words were explosive. Even among this group skilled at masking their emotions, shock rippled through the crowd. Some, however, seemed to have expected this and were not surprised.

After all, the auction had been on hiatus for some time.

Their curiosity now was about the item to be auctioned. For a single item to justify an entire auction, it must be priceless.

Wang Er smiled faintly and clapped his hands softly. An attendant in a red cheongsam brought out a tray.

“In fact, tonight’s auction item is something many of you have likely heard of. Not long ago, Christie’s auctioned one, and the final price was one hundred and fifty million.”

Not long ago. Christie’s. One hundred and fifty million. They had heard of it…

As these clues came together, many in the room had already guessed.

“It must be the Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Listening Vase.”

“Of course. At this year’s Christie’s auction, that was the only item that went for over one hundred million. It’s truly priceless.”

“Stop being mysterious—bring out the Listening Vase already!”

Amid such remarks, Wang Er smiled and lifted the red cloth from the tray, revealing the Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Listening Vase—a piece Zhao Fan knew very well.

But something was off; there were differences.

Zhao Fan stared intently at the vase on the tray. His own was more exquisite; the one before him was somewhat rougher.

While Zhao Fan scrutinized it, others at the auction were also examining it closely.

The more they looked, the stranger the vase seemed.

“Are you saying this Listening Vase can compare with the one Christie’s auctioned?”

Wang Er’s smile deepened. “And why not? Both vases come from the same place.”

From the same place?

A ripple of astonishment swept the room.

“Wang Er, are you serious? Both Listening Vases really come from the same place?”

“Indeed.”

Wang Er clasped his hands, resting them on his abdomen, and spoke at leisure, “Why would I deceive you? The Listening Vase that appeared at the Yangcheng auction was deliberately released by us. As you know, the management of antiques in China is extremely strict. What we did was all part of a plan—for the sake of tonight’s second Listening Vase.”

Zhao Fan frowned. Was it really as Wang Er claimed?

Rarity creates value. The one he had stumbled upon fetched a high price because of its unique, added value—it was the only one.

The people behind Wang Er were clearly motivated by money, hosting an auction for profit. Would such people really orchestrate such a plan and use a priceless Song Dynasty Listening Vase for it?

For some reason, Zhao Fan looked at the foreigners in the room.

Why had so many foreigners, arriving without warning, come to attend this auction?

He withdrew his gaze and looked at the Listening Vase before Wang Er, and suddenly it all became clear.

With understanding came a surge of anger. The people behind Wang Er were insatiably greedy—they intended to sell the Song Dynasty Listening Vase to foreigners.

It was truly…

Zhao Fan was not the only one who understood and grew furious. All the Chinese in the room now glared at the foreigners, each silently vowing never to let them win the Listening Vase.

Wang Er stood at the front, sweeping the crowd with his gaze and reading the expressions with satisfaction. The curve of his lips deepened.

Good—let anger flare. The more heated the emotions, the hotter tonight’s bidding would be.

Money. It was all about money.

Feigning ignorance, Wang Er introduced the Song Dynasty Listening Vase, then announced the starting price.

“Song Dynasty Shadow Porcelain Listening Vase, starting bid: three million. Each raise must be at least one hundred thousand. Bidding starts now!”

“Five million.”

The first bid was a bold two million above the starting price. Immediately after, a foreigner called out.

“Ten million.”

“Fifteen million!”

With Christie’s final price as a benchmark, everyone present knew the final price would be no less than one hundred million, so the bids were generous, each jump between three and five million.

But as the price reached eighty million, fewer and fewer bidders joined in.

They had no choice. They wanted the vase, but lacked the money.

At such auctions, payment was required immediately after the event—if you had no money, you couldn’t bid.

The price continued to climb. Then, a calm and unhurried voice rang out.

“One hundred and fifty million.”

That was the final price at Christie’s!

Everyone turned to look at the bidder—some astonished, some puzzled, but most simply curious.

Who would put up such a sum at a private auction?

Zhao Fan looked too, and was surprised to see it was Wu Qingfeng—he hadn’t noticed him earlier.

Surrounded by the crowd’s attention, Wu Qingfeng remained composed and declared, “One hundred and fifty million. That should be enough.”