“...Even if such a precious Golden Pagoda fell into the hands of commoners, ordinary folks wouldn't dare claim ownership, lest they invite sudden disaster upon themselves.” Old Chang spoke at length: “In the beginning, the item was held by a warlord, but just as the warlords were locked in chaos, that warlord was defeated, and the object was seized by another military leader.”

“And so it went. After changing hands several times, the object suddenly vanished from the records.”

Speaking of this, Old Chang sighed with a touch of emotion: “It wasn't until the early eighties when Brother Jia, while taking a country retreat, passed by a dilapidated temple and suddenly noticed something odd about a tarnished iron pagoda near the offering table. After careful examination, he realized the iron pagoda had been sealed with sealing wax. Once he cleaned it up, the Golden Pagoda revealed its original splendor.”

“Uh...” Wang Guan gasped in surprise, a vague sense that this anecdote felt oddly familiar, almost as if he had experienced it firsthand.

“Envy, jealousy, and spite, I suppose,” Old Chang glanced sideways. “Isn’t that how you acquired your Xuande Censer? If not for Brother Jia setting the precedent, how would Brother Qian have known to use a torch to burn off the wax and rust?”

“Heh heh...” Wang Guan gave a dry laugh, quickly changing the subject. “To think there was such a secret history behind it. Then this thing must be worth far more than sixty million.”

“Heh heh heh...” At this point, Old Chang grew cagey again, deciding to keep commercial secrets under wraps.

Wang Guan merely smiled at this, pondered seriously for a moment, and ultimately decided to... observe from the sidelines. Back in Hong Kong, he had balked at spending over thirty million on Tang Houhang’s work from Tudou; now, spending forty or fifty million on a snuff bottle was out of the question. As for the Golden Pagoda, having the Xuande Censer was satisfaction enough; there was no need to waste money on another tower.

Well, in the end, it all came down to being tight-fisted. A poor man must be meticulous about every penny just to get by.

Wang Guan mused to himself, then decided it was best not to look if he couldn't have it. He began to wander around the room. After all, besides the Golden Pagoda and the snuff bottle, there must be other, lesser treasures. Rather than coveting fish in a distant pond, it was better to cast a net closer to home. If he couldn't afford the most expensive items, he'd pick up something cheaper.

With that thought, Wang Guan examined his surroundings intently and instantly spotted an imposing piece of calligraphy and painting on the adjacent wall. The artwork was rendered in the impressionistic ink wash style: amidst a cluster of craggy rocks, an eagle swooped down in flight, possessing an extraordinary verve.

“What a painting!”

With just one glance, Wang Guan inwardly sighed. Looking at the signature, he recognized it as the work of the modern master of flower-and-bird painting, Li Kuchan. The moment he saw the signature, he grew even happier, as Li Kuchan was world-renowned specifically for his depictions of eagles.

Of course, this wasn't to say Li Kuchan only painted eagles. It was just that, much like his mentor Qi Baishi, because he excelled so supremely at one particular subject, people subconsciously assumed that was all they could paint. Connoisseurs would never make such a mistake, but it was undeniable that when famous artists depicted their signature subjects, the works usually commanded higher prices.

For example: Qi Baishi’s shrimp, Xu Beihong’s horses, and Li Kuchan’s eagles!

“This painting is a contender...” Having identified his first backup option, Wang Guan continued his inspection. The very next second, his attention was drawn to a Maitreya Buddha statue displayed on the nearby counter.

The statue was porcelain, the body of an exceptionally pure white, possessing that snowy, delicate luster. Coupled with the religious figure’s posture, Wang Guan concluded almost instantly that the Buddha was made of Dehua white porcelain.

To confirm his assessment, Wang Guan stepped quickly over and carefully picked up the statue. He immediately spotted the three characters Lin Chaojing inscribed beneath the base, validating his initial guess without a doubt.

Lin Chaojing was no ordinary figure. In the Ming Dynasty, he was as famous as He Chaozong, both renowned masters of porcelain sculpture whose works were highly sought after internationally. Even now, British and American museums housed his treasured sculptures of Guanyin and Buddhas.

Regardless, the Maitreya Buddha before him was another masterpiece, serving as his second backup choice.

Wang Guan admired it for a moment, then gently placed it back down, his eyes continuing their search...

“Eh, what is this?”

Suddenly, Wang Guan noticed a clothes rack tucked into a corner of the room. Naturally, there were garments hanging on it, but these were not modern attire; they were of an ancient style.

Wang Guan took one look and needed no further thought; the crown of the garment revealed it to be a Qing Dynasty official robe. But why would an official robe be hanging so casually in a room? Even though Wang Guan was unfamiliar with the precise hierarchy of Qing official wear, he could tell that the original owner held a relatively low rank, and what’s more, the garment was riddled with patches.

Although the robe had been carefully mended, it was clearly very old. If Wang Guan were to call the official uniform junk, few people would argue with him.

This very anomaly was what puzzled him. Everything else in the room could almost be termed a peerless treasure; yet here was a tattered official robe, an eyesore mixing grit among pearls, naturally making Wang Guan suspicious. He couldn't help but inquire of Old Chang.

“That clothing?”

Old Chang glanced over and immediately asked, “You know about Cao Xueqin’s background, don’t you?”

“I do. The first half of his life was that of a rich second-generation heir enjoying luxury and silk garments; the latter half was that of a destitute, down-and-out scholar relying on charity.” Wang Guan chuckled. Cao Xueqin was so famous that even now many people made a living off him, so naturally, his entire lineage had been investigated down to the eighteenth generation.

Thanks to everyone’s collective efforts, Cao Xueqin had virtually no personal privacy left.

“It’s good that you know,” Old Chang nodded, his expression slightly strange. “This official robe is said to have belonged to Cao Xueqin’s father when he served as the Jiangning Textile Commissioner.”

“Uh?”

For a moment, Wang Guan was speechless. How could that possibly sound reliable?

Cao Xueqin’s father lived during the reigns of Kangxi and Yongzheng—at least three hundred years ago. Setting aside the question of whether clothes could survive three centuries without decaying into dust, the problem was how Old Master Jia could be certain this ragged robe definitively belonged to Cao Xueqin’s father?

“Surprised? Does it sound absurd?”

Old Chang smiled and shook his head too. “The garment’s provenance is rather obscure. It was reportedly excavated from the ruins of the Jiangning Textile Commission in Nanjing years ago. But at the time, the robe was terribly damaged, possessing only minimal research value, and the relevant authorities didn't pay much attention to it.”

“Later, Brother Jia learned of the find, used his connections to acquire it, and hired someone to meticulously repair it into its current state, subsequently cherishing it as the official robe of Cao Xueqin’s father, Cao Fu.”

As he spoke, Old Chang also expressed some sentiment: “Actually, everyone knows perfectly well that the story is highly questionable, but no one wants to be the one to burst the bubble. Perhaps Brother Jia himself is clear-headed about it—since it’s just for personal appreciation, what harm is there in accepting it as true?”

“Mmm.” Wang Guan nodded in agreement. Since the item wasn't for trade but for remembrance, being willfully ignorant for a moment wasn't worth arguing over.

While the two were chatting, the contest for the snuff bottle concluded, with a collector, portly like a Maitreya Buddha, emerging victorious.

However, it was at this very moment that Wang Guan felt utterly shafted.

He wasn't the only shrewd person present. Everyone realized that if they couldn't afford treasures worth tens of millions, they could settle for items worth a few million. Consequently, whether it was Lin Chaojing’s Dehua white porcelain Buddha or Li Kuchan’s eagle painting, along with other fine pieces, these items were being snatched up by these people, who were currently negotiating prices with Jia Qin.

“I told you, act when it's time to act; no one waits for the slowpoke,” Old Chang said with a smile. “If all else fails, you could buy this robe. You could probably still wear it after washing it—even if it doesn't last, it’s worth the temporary thrill.”

Wang Guan was left utterly speechless and scratched his head. Was he truly going to leave this treasure mountain empty-handed?

After a moment’s thought, Wang Guan’s gaze returned to the Golden Pagoda. Bathed in the bright light, the pagoda seemed to radiate auspicious golden light from every angle. Its craftsmanship was exquisite, truly a heirloom of supreme collection value.

The item was undeniably magnificent; it was just the price tag that was too steep...

Although he hadn't heard the final price, seeing the way Old Zeng and the others were eyeing it, Wang Guan knew the cost wouldn't be low. If he entered the bidding, even if he successfully secured the item, the cost might result in his bank balance evaporating instantly.

At this juncture, Wang Guan hesitated, but the others would not wait for him. Jia Qin, with the swiftness of a decisive blow, quickly finalized the prices of several items, and everyone’s attention immediately focused on the Golden Pagoda. Everyone knew in their hearts that a fierce battle was about to commence.

As for Jia Qin’s initial statement that he hadn't decided whether to sell the Golden Pagoda, everyone treated it as background noise. If he truly hadn't intended to sell it, why display it? Such a statement was merely a tactic to drive up the price, something they were all accustomed to; anyone who believed it was simply naive.

Simultaneously, Old Zeng broke the deadlock: “Seventy million!”

Clearly, Old Zeng understood that rather than haggling pointlessly for a bargain, it was better to project an aura of absolute determination. He increased the initial asking price of sixty million by a straight ten million. His strategy proved remarkably effective; upon hearing this figure, the two or three wealthy collectors nearby frowned, beginning to weigh the pros and cons.

However, one shouldn't assume seventy million was the ceiling. There are many hidden billionaires in this world, and those deeply fond of an object are never shy about spending a king’s ransom.

After a brief consideration, the Buddhist collector bid again, smiling faintly. “Brother Zeng, my apologies, but I truly desire this item, so I won't yield to you. Seventy-five million!”

“Eighty million!” But before the man’s voice had fully faded, another person immediately countered, perfectly illustrating the axiom that there is always someone stronger.

At this point, Wang Guan and his companions could only watch from the sidelines, witnessing the price continuously soar. In the blink of an eye, it surpassed ninety million, showing no sign of stopping, steadily advancing toward the hundred-million mark...