Chapter Sixty-Six: The First Item

Zhang Can’s words made Old Su quite agitated. Over this period, he had witnessed with his own eyes how Zhang Can and Zhu Senlin had earned more than ten million; who wouldn’t be envious? Moreover, he had always believed that Zhang Can’s abilities were far inferior to his own. These recent strokes of fortune, in his mind, were merely the result of more careful observation—if he himself paid such attention, how could he not spot the same opportunities?

Old Su had fallen into a trap of his own making. He firmly believed that any skill Zhang Can possessed was taught by him, and that he had never actually taught Zhang Can the most practical and effective techniques. In other words, he considered himself far more capable than Zhang Can. So, if Zhang Can could find these opportunities, why couldn’t he?

Therefore, with Mr. Wang heading to this new place, there were bound to be treasures to find. Old Su resolved that this time, no matter what, he would keep his eyes wide open and observe carefully. If Zhang Can could get rich, so could he.

Of course, Old Su still believed Zhang Can had no idea about the trap he’d set for him. In his mind, all of Zhang Can’s comebacks were just luck. Even after being swindled and falling into debt, Zhang Can had somehow revived himself and now lived more comfortably than Old Su, which only fueled his envy.

Zhang Can smiled faintly, sipping tea and chatting with Mr. Wang as Zhu Senlin and Old Su made their preparations. Of course, Zhang Can was intentionally letting Old Su join the trip; he already had a preliminary plan in mind. However, he couldn’t be certain that Old Su would step into his trap. Still, with such an opportunity, it was worth a try—the outcome would depend on what unfolded.

Zhu Senlin’s preparations were swift: just grab the checkbook. Old Su, by contrast, was somewhat flustered, mainly due to his excitement. Zhang Can’s luck had shaken his usual composure, and now he thought making money was just a matter of stretching out his hand.

Zhu Senlin’s new Mercedes was spacious. He drove himself, Old Su sat in the front passenger seat, and Zhang Can and Wang Qian sat in the back. The rear was roomy enough that even four people wouldn’t feel crowded.

Because Wang Qian was in the car, Zhu Senlin kept his mouth firmly shut, not mentioning any of Zhang Can’s recent acquisitions. After all, Wang Qian had already tried to recruit Zhang Can. In terms of financial clout, how could Zhu Senlin compare? He offered Zhang Can an annual salary of one million, but Wang Qian had casually offered ten million plus commissions. No matter what, Zhu Senlin couldn’t match that salary. Sharing commission was one thing, since it depended on performance, but salary had to be paid out punctually every month. If it were him, he would certainly have gone with Wang Qian. He still couldn’t understand why Zhang Can had declined ten million a year in favor of his own one million offer.

Old Su, of course, didn’t bring it up either. Not because Zhu Senlin had instructed him, but because mentioning Zhang Can’s luck would just be admitting his own embarrassment, so he kept silent. Zhu Senlin feared that if Wang Qian learned Zhang Can had made even more money, he’d throw even greater sums at him. After all, people can resist many things, but money and beauty are another matter. These days, those steadfast underground heroes from the old movies were probably extinct.

Wang Qian named a destination. Zhu Senlin, familiar with every corner of Jincheng, adjusted the car’s direction accordingly.

“Little Zhang, how have you been lately? Any new finds?” Wang Qian asked with a smile once things settled down in the car. Zhu Senlin’s hands trembled at the question.

Zhang Can smiled back. “Not much—just went home a few days ago, and by the river near my house, I recognized a few logs of golden-thread nanmu. Zhu Senlin missed out, and I made three million myself.”

Wang Qian wasn’t about to be astonished by a few million, but at the very least, it showed Zhang Can had real ability. Without talent, how could one stumble upon fortune? For those with true ability, wealth sometimes came as easily as picking it up off the ground. For those without, even if treasure landed at their feet, they’d only see a stone.

Old Su hadn’t known about Zhang Can’s recent haul of golden-thread nanmu; he’d thought perhaps Zhang Can had just found a blue-and-white porcelain bowl along the way. Upon hearing that Zhang Can had made three million from the nanmu, his eyes burned with jealousy.

Zhu Senlin was somewhat anxious, but was relieved when Zhang Can only mentioned this one incident and nothing more. Still, Wang Qian’s interest in recruiting Zhang Can was nothing new; it had been there from the start.

Their destination was a large warehouse, with an extensive parking lot outside that wasn’t open to the public. Only people attending gatherings there parked their cars.

Since the matter at hand was discreet, the others arrived in ordinary vehicles worth no more than a hundred thousand. Ironically, Zhu Senlin’s Mercedes drew attention. He felt somewhat embarrassed—he knew well that the people coming here were all far wealthier than he, and he had no standing to show off.

There were several guards at the gate. When they arrived, Wang Qian lowered the window and gave a signal. The security guards let them through at once.

At the warehouse entrance, more guards stood watch. After passing them, Zhang Can and the others discovered the interior was well-appointed. At least two or three dozen people had already arrived. Zhu Senlin’s face lit up with excitement as he hurried forward, beaming, eager to greet everyone.

These were the heavyweights of Jincheng’s antique world. Normally, they wouldn’t give Zhu Senlin the time of day—he was not quite qualified for gatherings like this. But seeing him accompanied by Wang Qian, their attitudes softened. They nodded, greeting Wang Qian, “Mr. Wang, you’ve arrived?”

“Hello, Brother Wang!”

From these reactions, Zhang Can and Old Su could tell just how important Wang Qian was. Though they didn’t know his exact background, the people who barely acknowledged Zhu Senlin were deferential to Wang Qian, which spoke volumes.

Wang Qian nodded slightly, then smiled and beckoned for Zhang Can to join him. “Little Zhang, come sit here.”

Zhang Can glanced at Zhu Senlin and Old Su, spread his hands and said, “Come on, sit over here.”

Zhu Senlin felt grateful that Zhang Can hadn’t forgotten his roots and looked after him when others ignored him. Old Su, meanwhile, was too nervous to care about such things, following along anxiously.

Wang Qian pulled Zhang Can to sit beside him. A rectangular table, two meters wide and fifteen or sixteen meters long, stood in the center, topped with a red cloth. The two or three dozen attendees sat around it.

Wang Qian’s seat was near the head of the table, a place of honor for guests. The host’s seat was occupied by a thin man in his forties. Zhang Can didn’t recognize him, but Zhu Senlin and Old Su did: his name was Tang Yuan, and he was highly reputed in Jincheng’s antique world. Rumor had it he was worth billions, yet kept a low profile.

Zhang Can also noticed Wang Qian nodding toward two sturdy men standing behind him—clearly his bodyguards. He hadn’t brought them when visiting Zhu Senlin, so they must have been waiting here already.

Others had come with their own entourages—some with bodyguards, others with appraisers. Laptops, cash boxes, all sorts of equipment were at the ready. Zhu Senlin and Old Su, just seeing the cash boxes, already felt their faces flush, as if part of that money would soon be theirs.

Zhang Can cast his gaze around, finally resting on the row of large travel cases behind the host’s seat—Tang Yuan’s. These weren’t filled with money but with antiques.

With a glance of his keen eye, Zhang Can could see what lay inside, while the others’ cases were all cash. It was clear who was the auction’s main supplier.

He looked again, but there were so many items inside the cases that his vision blurred. He quickly withdrew his gaze—after all, everything would be displayed for all to see soon enough. There was no need to waste his energy peering through the cases now.

Tang Yuan clapped his hands lightly. Several men behind him took out bottles of purified water from cartons and placed one before each person seated at the table, as well as handing bottles to the bodyguards standing behind them.

“All right, everyone is here. Let’s begin today’s auction. No need to repeat the rules; we’ll proceed as always. Now, the first item…” As he spoke, Tang Yuan gestured, and one of his men opened a travel case and carefully placed an object on the table.

A powerful overhead lamp illuminated the object. In front of each participant were appraisal tools. Before Old Su lay his usual reading glasses, magnifying glass, and a small high-intensity flashlight. No large testing equipment was permitted on site, so only traditional methods could be used. Whether one ended up deceived or made a fortune depended on each person’s skill and discernment.

In this trade, authenticity was sometimes beside the point; even if an item was fake, if someone insisted it was genuine, that was their business. There was no one to blame but oneself.

The first item was a long-eared bronze jar, heavily encrusted with green patina, about fifty centimeters tall, roughly the size of a small bowl. Its shape marked it as an ancient object—something modern people would never use.

Once the piece was set on the table, Wang Qian was given the first look.

“Brother Wang, please,” Tang Yuan said with a respectful smile, gesturing for Wang Qian to examine the item first. Then, glancing at the space behind Wang Qian, he asked curiously, “Brother Wang, where is your appraiser today?”

Next to Wang Qian sat Zhang Can, but as Zhang Can was so young, Tang Yuan paid him no mind, assuming he was simply a relative brought along for the experience. Tang Yuan knew that Wang Qian himself was no expert in antiques and possessed no extraordinary eye for them, which made him even more curious—how would Wang Qian make his decision?

Wang Qian smiled at Zhang Can. “My friend, you’ll be my representative today. If you think it’s worth bidding, do so on my behalf; if not, just skip it.”

Tang Yuan’s curiosity was piqued. Wang Qian’s words showed he placed great trust in Zhang Can—but how could someone so young have refined judgment or skill?

In this field, skill and expertise were paramount, and they came only from years of patient experience. The antique trade was not one for overnight prodigies. Most antique shops refused to let young people serve as master appraisers; the old saying that youth is unreliable was never truer than here.

Zhang Can didn’t even reach out his hand. A glance told him the bronze jar was authentic, dating from the Warring States period, but it was an everyday object, not something from a noble household. The casting was rough, with little craftsmanship.

After a moment’s thought, Zhang Can nodded. “Mr. Wang, this bronze jar is from the Warring States period. The age is genuine, and the piece is real, but it belonged to an ordinary family and isn’t of great value. If I were to buy it, I wouldn’t offer more than two thousand yuan.”