It was at this moment that Young Master Hu finally understood the whole situation—he had been used and nearly made the scapegoat. The realization was immediately etched on his face in unconcealed fury, and he volunteered readily, "Uncle Feng, I know exactly where his shop is. Call people over immediately to search the place; we might just catch him."

"Might," implied uncertainty, showing that Young Master Hu himself was not entirely confident. After all, the thief who stole the item was no fool; once they had what they wanted, they would surely flee and not linger in the shop waiting to be caught like a turtle in a jar.

Despite this, Mr. Feng did not refuse Young Master Hu's offer. After ascertaining the exact address, he waved his hand, dispatching some staff members to scout the situation.

Mr. Feng then chuckled and sighed, "It was our own oversight, really. Because we placed so much importance on the Jiaowei Qin, most of the museum's attention was focused on its security. We never imagined the thief was so clever, calculating the exact moment and brazenly slipping through the cracks. So, it’s not entirely unwarranted that the item was stolen."

Mr. Feng could afford to sigh and dismiss the event lightly, as the stolen item was barely a drop in the ocean to him, hence his casual demeanor.

However, for the security staff, this was an immense disgrace.

"Mr. Feng, we were not diligent enough."

The supervisor, his face etched with shame, asked tentatively, "Should we call the police?"

"Call them, of course we should call them."

Mr. Feng said casually, "If something is lost and we hide the report for fear of ridicule, that is condoning the act; it only encourages the thief's arrogance. So, not only must we report it, but we must also publicize photos of the missing item to prevent unwitting citizens from buying stolen goods."

"Yes, Mr. Feng." The supervisor's expression hardened, and he immediately proceeded to make the report as ordered.

At the same time, Mr. Feng continued with a gentle smile, "Now that the matter is clear, it seems it was all a misunderstanding. But if you'll forgive my meddling, you all seem to have some friction between you—perhaps I could act as a mediator and smooth things over..."

"No need, Uncle Feng," before Wang Guan and the others could speak, Young Master Hu sneered, "I have no misunderstanding with them. They aren't qualified to cause me any misunderstanding. For your sake, Uncle Feng, we'll let this drop. Otherwise, I'd show them what the consequences are for falsely accusing me."

As he spoke, Young Master Hu snorted coldly, bade farewell to Mr. Feng, and swept out arrogantly.

Seeing this, Mr. Feng subtly shook his head, then smiled by way of explanation, "Young men are sometimes a bit prideful; please don't take offense at his attitude."

Wang Guan and the others certainly wouldn't stoop to his level. After all, they had just been wrongly accused themselves, so they understood the feeling. Despite being irked by Hu Shao's arrogance, they couldn't really say much more. With that, they lost any remaining interest in touring and, after declining Mr. Feng's offer of a compensatory banquet, left the museum.

"Came with high spirits, left deeply disappointed," Old Meng sighed on the way back, shaking his head. "Thieves these days are getting bolder and bolder, with countless petty tricks—impossible to guard against."

"Tell me about it," Sha Qingfeng agreed. "Luckily, Bei Ye was observant enough to notice that man's suspicious behavior; otherwise, we probably would have ended up explaining ourselves down at the police station."

"Exactly, exactly..." the others chimed in, tacitly agreeing to only discuss the matter of their own unjust treatment, completely avoiding any mention of having wrongly accused Young Master Hu. Amidst this casual chatter, they eventually returned to the hotel.

After lunch and some shopping at nearby stores, everyone gradually let the incident fade into the background.

Another day passed. On the morning of the second day, Wang Guan and Pi Qiushi arrived at the Antique Street again. However, this time they bypassed the Liangyicang Museum and headed toward an auction house. Their main objective in coming to Hong Kong—that painting, The Journey of the Late Tang Empress—was scheduled to be auctioned here soon.

Though this auction company was relatively unknown, when it hosted an event, the turnout was considerable. The mid-sized auction hall quickly filled up more than halfway, seemingly threatening to overflow.

Wang Guan and Pi Qiushi were seated in the middle section of the hall, affording them a relatively clear view. After observing for a moment, Wang Guan spotted a few familiar faces.

At the right moment, Wang Guan smiled lightly and motioned, "Brother Pi, look over there."

"Hmm?" Pi Qiushi followed his gaze and immediately saw Old Meng and Sha Qingfeng. He then smiled and said, "Normal. As the local expert, it would be dereliction of duty if they didn't know about this. Besides, didn't I mention it before? The information about The Journey of the Late Tang Empress, including those photos, was extracted from Old Sha!"

With Pi Qiushi’s explanation, Wang Guan suddenly realized the truth. Looking back toward Sha Qingfeng, he noticed that Sha Qingfeng was also looking their way, smiling and giving a subtle wink.

Wang Guan nodded in response but knew that once the bidding started, Sha Qingfeng certainly wouldn't hold back on account of friendship. After all, as a professional agent, he definitely knew how to separate personal rapport from business dealings.

"Brother, have you made up your mind?"

Meanwhile, Pi Qiushi asked curiously, "Are you really planning to bid on that item?"

"I don't know, I'll see how it goes," Wang Guan admitted frankly. "If the auction price doesn't exceed my psychological threshold, I'll bid for it directly. If it goes over the expected price, then I'll just give up."

"That’s right," Pi Qiushi agreed. "We certainly can't go head-to-head with those collecting titans, especially those reckless newcomers who act like they’re just here to cause trouble..."

Wang Guan understood what he meant. The so-called collecting titans weren't necessarily people dedicated solely to collecting; more often, they were very wealthy tycoons and magnates. For various reasons—to appear cultured, genuine appreciation, or financial investment—they were willing to spend lavishly at auctions to acquire rare items. People like Pi Qiushi, who were professional collectors, intensely disliked these types. Over the years, he had often had to watch treasures go to others because he lacked the sheer funds. However, due to his extensive experience, he had developed a mindset of letting things be—if it happens, it happens; if not, then so be it.

"It's still relatively controlled now," Wang Guan said with a smile. "If more people knew about it, the competition would be even fiercer."

"It's about the same," Pi Qiushi shook his head. "Those who needed to know already do. Even if those who shouldn't know found out, they probably couldn't compete with the first group who knew."

"Mhm," Wang Guan nodded slightly.

As the two chatted quietly, the auction was about to begin.

The sudden influx of so many people actually surprised the organizers, leaving them a bit puzzled. However, more people was generally good for business, so the organizers didn't delve too deeply. Soon, a manager-like figure took the stage to deliver some boilerplate welcoming speeches before officially announcing the start of the auction.

Instantly, everyone in the room straightened up, focusing on the auctioneer who appeared, and the presentation of lots began according to procedure.

Since this was a smaller auction house with limited resources, they couldn't host specialized exhibitions like the major houses. Thus, the lots were naturally rather miscellaneous: ceramics, jade, antique clocks, and watches—as long as the starting price was comparable, they were put up for auction.

The attendees were straightforward, or perhaps unpicky. They continuously raised their paddles to bid. However, aside from a few naive newcomers participating just for the experience, everyone else had a specific agenda. They tacitly agreed to speed up the auction’s pace. When someone placed a bid, others absolutely would not counter-bid, or if they did compete, it was settled in just a few quick moves, absolutely no dithering.

With this approach, the progress couldn't help but be fast, which baffled the auctioneer on stage. He even started to doubt his own competence, wondering why the guests below seemed so unresponsive.

Sensing the subdued atmosphere, the auctioneer tried hard to liven things up and stimulate the crowd's enthusiasm. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. The more garrulously he chattered, the more annoyed people became, leading to an even colder reception. Seeing this, the auctioneer resigned himself to the situation, his tone losing the initial vigor and taking on a somewhat listless quality. But turning points often arrive unexpectedly. When his assistant presented a painting, the auctioneer was astonished to find a distinct change in the atmosphere below.

He couldn't quite articulate the change, but he sensed an overwhelming, surging undercurrent, like the calm before a great storm.

"Ancient calligraphy and painting."

Regardless of his internal astonishment, the auctioneer maintained his professional decorum, signaling his assistant to hang the painting and offering a brief introduction: "It features figures, calligraphy, and seals..."

Please forgive the auctioneer; as this was a foreign auction house, the auctioneer was naturally a foreigner.

At this, Wang Guan couldn't help but shake his head, struggling to suppress the urge to complain, and whispered, "Brother Pi, having this painting fall into foreign hands—it’s like putting pearls before swine."

"Indeed," Pi Qiushi agreed wholeheartedly.

Especially after hearing the estimated valuation the auctioneer announced, not only Wang Guan and Pi Qiushi frowned, but many others felt an urge to curse the auction house's appraisers for their lack of discernment.

"Fifteen hundred Euros! Only fifteen hundred Euros..."

The auctioneer repeated his call incessantly, making people wish they could throw a shoe at him. However, considering such an act might give him too much attention, some people suppressed the impulse, choosing instead to wait patiently. After all, doing that would be elevating him to the same level as Obama, wouldn't it?

A moment later, the instant the auctioneer announced that bidding was open, it was as if everyone had made a silent pact. Paddles shot up like a forest of spears and swords.

"Huh?"

At first glance, the auctioneer on stage thought he was hallucinating. He couldn't help but blink a few times, even rubbing his eyes, only to confirm upon looking again that it was true.

"What is happening? Has God heard my prayers?" For a moment, the auctioneer was lost in a kind of hopeful reverie. (To be continued) www.RT