Chapter 20: The Ultimate Art of Spending Money

“A Fragrance Ceremony Hall?”
Over a thousand square meters had been divided into more than a dozen rooms, each elegantly decorated and furnished entirely in redwood. Glass display cases showcased a variety of agarwood pieces, and even by scent alone, one could tell they were all of the finest quality.
Zhuang Chen glanced over the offerings: starting at three hundred per gram, the most expensive reaching five thousand per gram. What appeared to be nothing more than an unremarkable black block of wood was, in fact, worth millions!
Since he was here, he decided to go all in and experience for himself the legendary allure of agarwood. Without hesitation, he chose the most expensive piece—a Ya Trang Black Kyara, eight grams, totaling forty thousand.
He was led into a private VIP room, serene and refined. In front of him stood a narrow table made of chicken-wing wood, adorned with the implements of the incense ceremony—clearly a suite reserved for special guests.
Soon, a beautiful incense master in a cheongsam entered. She sat gracefully, her hands as white as snow, picking up a towel to meticulously wipe each tool. With courteous composure, she said, “My surname is Ling. It’s my honor to serve you today.”
She produced the selected kyara, donned gloves, and with her left hand steadying the piece, carefully used a small knife with her right to pare off a sliver the size of a pinky nail, placing it on a testing dish.
Zhuang Chen eyed the unremarkable black fragment—an outsider might well mistake it for rubbish, light enough to be blown away in a breath! Yet, for devotees of the incense art, this was a rare treat indeed.
Millions for cars, tens of millions for watches, but only the truly wealthy could indulge in collecting at this level.
But what did the true nobility of ancient times pursue?
Agarwood.
This was, quite literally, burning money.
She picked up the incense burner, already layered with fine ash. Like the art of tea, the incense ceremony valued the nurturing of its implements—one with tea water, the other with ash.
Her jade-like hands moved the charcoal tray to the center, opened a white porcelain jar, and, with tongs, extracted a piece of coal several centimeters long, jet black throughout. She set it on the wire mesh and slowly kindled it with a special lighter.
Of course, today there are electric aroma burners—press a button, and everything is done, even the temperature adjustable. But for true connoisseurs, the incense ceremony is more than enjoyment; it is a process of self-cultivation. Only by personally conducting each step can one truly appreciate its pleasures.
Once the charcoal was fully lit—glowing red without open flames—she set it aside. She brought out a green porcelain burner, using tongs to insert and remove them from the ash repeatedly for a full ten minutes.
With fire tongs, she stirred the ash, making it light and even, rich with air, so when the charcoal was nestled within, there would be sufficient oxygen for a complete burn and a perfect fragrance.
When the ash was ready and smoothed, she inserted the tongs into the center, gently twisting to create a small cavity for the charcoal, clockwise as tradition dictated.
She placed the glowing charcoal into the cavity, burying it completely—this was the “charcoal burial.”
She began raking the ash inward, covering the ember in a valley-like shape. The thickness of the ash would regulate the heat, ensuring the incense’s aroma was released in full.
She set down the tongs, picked up an ash press, holding the burner in her left hand and angling the press with her right to shape the ash into a neat cone, completely enclosing the charcoal. Then, with a feather brush, she gently cleaned the burner’s rim, leaving not a speck of dust.
Throughout, her expression was focused, her movements fluid and rhythmic, her mind growing tranquil with the ritual, worldly cares fading away.
Her slender hands took up the ash stamp, drawing elegant radial patterns from the apex, so-called “incense veins,” across the smooth surface—delicate and refined.
With a fine needle, she inserted it straight down from the top, feeling for the heat of the charcoal, gauging its height with practiced touch. Withdrawing the needle, she wiped it clean and set it aside.
Her right hand hovered over the incense burner, palm down, fingers relaxed, circling from the right to the front, measuring the heat above the burner.
Deeming the temperature just right, she took a mica plate and set it gently above the ember’s window, pressing it slightly to steady it. With silver tweezers, she placed the sliver of kyara onto the mica.
Her left thumb secured the burner’s rim, her other fingers supporting the base, shoulders relaxed, lifting the burner before her nose. She exhaled lightly, then inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance.
Zhuang Chen accepted the burner, brought it to his nose, and drew in a deep breath. Instantly, a cool current surged through him, as if he were standing in the heart of a primeval forest.
A gentle breeze seemed to caress him, carrying droplets of dew and the mingled scents of grass and wood, refreshing and exhilarating, cleansing him inside and out.
He felt himself transformed into a feather, weightless, drifting through the woods on the wind. The aroma of earth, the freshness of grass, the mingled floral notes—all combined, sunlight itself seemed to acquire a scent among the dappled leaves.
Suddenly, the breeze transported him to a field of medicinal herbs, where a subtle bitterness pervaded the air—invigorating, clearing the mind, lingering and profound, rising to his brow, leaving his thoughts crystalline.
After the bitterness came a surprising sweetness, reminiscent of honeydew—delicate, juicy, and utterly satisfying, a happiness that welled up from within. The initial bitterness only served to make the sweetness more memorable, a treasure to be cherished.
The scent shifted again, the sweetness deepening, the air growing viscous and smooth, as if enveloped in the finest silk—layer upon layer, close and comforting, perfect in its caress.
Zhuang Chen felt as though he were bathing in milk, every inch of skin enveloped in warmth, his innermost peace awakened. A childlike, innocent smile spread across his face, as though he had returned to the womb, lost in maternal warmth and tenderness.
Seeing Zhuang Chen’s look of profound enjoyment, the incense master smiled and explained, “Black kyara, also called iron knot agarwood, is mostly hard-fibered, with a certain hardness and deep color—though among them are rare treasures. The finest black kyara is rich and oily, with evenly distributed resin, a quality far beyond ordinary agarwood.”
“The initial scent is intensely cool and assertive; the main aroma is powerful, with a refined medicinal note; the lingering scent carries a milky sweetness, long-lasting and subtle. This piece, in particular, has a milky tail note—a true ‘one wood, four transformations’ rarity.”

Zhuang Chen used the tweezers to lift the black kyara and brought it to his nose, finding its scent, without heat, much less intense. Curious, he asked, “Are there other types of kyara?”
“Kyara is known for its black, lustrous, and supple texture, with a sticky resilience, high oil content, and a fragrance that is sweet, rich, and elegant. It is extremely rare—always a treasure of royalty and nobility, hence called the imperial incense. As early as the Northern Song dynasty, a single piece of kyara was said to be worth a fortune.”
“By color, it is divided into black, red, yellow, blue, white, and green varieties—distinguished by their region and the composition of the local soil. Black kyara is considered medium to lower grade; the best are green kyara, white kyara, and the legendary gold kyara.”
The incense master’s expression grew solemn. “In Ding Wei’s ‘Twelve Ranks of Heavenly Incense,’ it is recorded: Oriole Green, Orchid Feather, and Golden Silk Knot are the three sacred grades of kyara—rare even in a hundred years, treasured the world over.”
They repeated the ceremony, Zhuang Chen greedily inhaling the kyara’s aroma, closing his eyes in rapture. His extraordinary sense of smell allowed him to fully appreciate the charm of incense, leaving him almost unable to extricate himself.
After savoring the black kyara, he felt reluctant for it to end. Noting his longing, the beautiful incense master suggested, “You have a natural gift. Would you like to try something else?”
At his nod, she rose and left, soon returning with a tray. Sitting gracefully, she began her introduction: “This is Indonesian Kalimantan agarwood from the Xingzhou series. The fragrance is strong, sweet at first, and the aroma rushes to the nose, startling the senses.”
“The main scent is deep and long-lasting, with a pronounced earthy note and a hint of spice. Its aftertaste is powerful and persistent, with a rich vanilla aroma—very memorable indeed.”
“This piece has a touch of coolness and a faint herbal note, originating from the western Kalimantan region.”
She took up a second piece, shaped like an eagle’s feather, streaked with brown-black lines. “This is Cambodian agarwood from the Hoi An series—sweet, with a slight tang, reminiscent of honey.”
“It’s known for its strong aroma and ability to neutralize all odors, making it the most sought-after in the Middle Eastern market.”
“The oil extracted from it has remarkable staying power—lasts four or five days after application, the fragrance lingering still. It is known as nature’s finest perfume.”
“And finally, this piece is Solomon agarwood, a variety introduced domestically only in recent years, with more concentrated production and a more accessible price.”
“Its scent is light and comforting, without the earthy notes of other agarwoods or the marshy grass aroma. Among Indonesian varieties, it is closest to the Hoi An lineage—slightly sweet, subtle, with a gentle bitterness, defying simple description.”