Chapter Ten: The Class Reunion

“None of your damn business!” For Li Xiang, Xiao Chen had only these four words. How he lived was no concern of Li Xiang’s.

“You…” Li Xiang’s expression changed instantly at Xiao Chen’s retort. He never expected that the coward from their school days now dared to talk back to him.

Xiao Chen paid him no mind. He glanced at the calligraphy in his hand and addressed the bald shop owner, “Boss, will you sell this piece for three thousand?”

“Three thousand?” The bald shop owner’s face darkened, his eyes widened, and he snatched the calligraphy from Xiao Chen’s hand. “Go on, get lost. Li Shao is right—you poor bastard, if you can’t afford it, get out.”

“This is an authentic work by Master Yan. If you don’t have at least three hundred thousand, forget about it.”

Li Xiang, seeing Xiao Chen’s setback, sneered, “Exactly. With your poverty, pretending to buy antiques? Do you even deserve it?”

“If you can’t even cough up thirty thousand, look at this porcelain vase—I just spent fifty thousand on it. Might as well use it as a spittoon at home.” He handled the vase ostentatiously.

“Oh?” Xiao Chen ignored Li Xiang entirely, and with a half-smile, looked at the bald shop owner. “But in my eyes, this calligraphy is at most two or three years old. The imitation is pretty decent, but only about thirty percent convincing. It might fool laymen, but to deceive me? You’re still lacking.”

“To be honest, if it weren’t for my grandmother’s fondness for calligraphy, and her eightieth birthday coming up, I wouldn’t even bother considering such a shoddy imitation. I’m only thinking of buying it as a casual gift for her.”

At this, the bald shop owner erupted in fury, especially as he noticed many customers nearby casting suspicious glances. His gaze grew cold. “Watch your words. Food can be eaten carelessly, but words cannot be spoken recklessly.”

His tone now carried more than a hint of threat.

But Xiao Chen was utterly unfazed.

He acted as if he hadn’t noticed the bald shop owner’s intimidation. “I’m not talking nonsense. There are plenty of fakes in your shop. Like that painting over there, and that inkstone…”

Xiao Chen pointed out several items in succession. With each gesture, the bald shop owner’s face changed.

Then, Xiao Chen’s gaze landed on the porcelain vase in Li Xiang’s hand. He was about to speak when the bald shop owner hurriedly grabbed Xiao Chen, his eyes pleading as he whispered, “Alright, you win. Take it, take it.”

He had no intention of losing fifty thousand over a trifle worth a few thousand.

Besides, if Xiao Chen kept talking, could his shop even stay open?

“Much appreciated.” Xiao Chen smiled. “So, two thousand five hundred for this calligraphy, that’s agreeable, isn’t it?”

“Two thousand five? Wasn’t it three thousand just now?” The bald shop owner was unhappy.

“That was then. Now it’s two thousand. No objections, I hope?” Xiao Chen acted like he had the upper hand.

The bald shop owner nearly wanted to cry. He was about to protest, but then thought better of it—what if the price dropped again? He could only compromise. “Fine. Two thousand, take it. Consider it a favor between friends.”

Xiao Chen nodded in satisfaction, took out two thousand and handed it over.

Witnessing this, Li Xiang was dumbstruck. He never expected Xiao Chen would actually spend two thousand to buy the calligraphy.

He immediately glanced at the bald shop owner in suspicion. “What’s going on? Are you really selling fakes? Is my vase a fake too?”

“How could it be? I wouldn’t dare sell fakes to someone like you, Li Shao…” With a few flattering words, the bald shop owner easily handled Li Xiang, whose money far outweighed his sense.

Xiao Chen ignored them, and after purchasing the calligraphy, left the shop.

As Xiao Chen departed, Jiang Yichen entered the antique shop.

In truth, while the calligraphy Xiao Chen bought was indeed a replica, it concealed a secret. The paper was thicker than usual, composed of three layers—the outermost layer was a recent imitation, but sandwiched between was another layer.

That inner layer was the genuine antique, an original by Master Yan.

If it were presented, it could easily fetch three million.

Otherwise, how could Xiao Chen possibly bring a mere imitation as a birthday gift for Madam Xu? The old lady of the Xu family wasn’t easy to please, but her passion for calligraphy and painting had been cultivated for years; a crude imitation would never fool her.

Thus, Xiao Chen had fulfilled Xu Qingran’s request.

Just as he was about to head home, his phone rang. He checked—it was Wu Hui, his high school class president.

Xiao Chen answered without hesitation.

After hanging up, he learned there was a high school reunion that evening.

Since he had time and hadn’t seen his classmates in years, Xiao Chen agreed without a second thought.

He checked the time and headed to the venue Wu Hui had mentioned.

The reunion was at Galaxy KTV, one of the most upscale places in Linzhou.

As soon as Xiao Chen stepped off the bus, he heard several scornful voices not far away, “Isn’t that Xiao Chen?”

“He actually took the bus—how pathetic can you get?”

They were female classmates.

At that moment, a Mercedes pulled up. The young man who got out was none other than Li Xiang, whom Xiao Chen had met earlier.

“Wow, isn’t that Li Xiang? He’s driving a Mercedes!” The girls’ eyes lit up as they watched Li Xiang.

Some even swooned, “If only I’d gone after Li Xiang back in school…”

Li Xiang, full of pride, glanced disdainfully at Xiao Chen and mocked, “Oh, Xiao Chen, you’re in such a state and still dare to attend the reunion?”

He deliberately addressed the group of girls, “Don’t judge Xiao Chen so quickly—he’s into antiques.”

“Antiques?” The girls were momentarily stunned. If Xiao Chen could afford antiques, was he pretending to be poor?

Antiques start at tens of thousands, sometimes hundreds of thousands, even millions. Had they misjudged him?

As they pondered, Li Xiang continued sarcastically, “Just now, Xiao Chen spent a whopping two thousand on a ‘masterpiece’ by Yan Zhenqing.”

“Xiao Chen, that must be your monthly living expenses, right?”

Everyone burst out laughing. Two thousand? For an antique? Xiao Chen must have a fundamental misunderstanding about antiques.