910: Chapter 95 Donation

Lin Zifeng felt his legs go a little weak.

He had spent eighty-eight million on a cup and thought he had won big.

But the other person spent fifty thousand to buy a treasure worth five hundred million?

The slap in the face hurt more than being hit by a rolls-royce.

But Shen Yan didn't stop there.

He stood the piece of agarwood upright and tapped it lightly.

The sound was hollow.

"Hollow?"

The old man was startled, then showed a look of regret.

"Oh dear, what a pity. If it's hollow, its value will be greatly reduced..."

When Lin Zifeng heard this, he immediately perked up, as if grasping a lifeline.

"Hahaha! So it's hollow! I knew it, how could there be such a good thing!"

Shen Yan glanced at him, his eyes looking at an idiot.

"Idiot."

He softly uttered two words.

Then, his fingers felt around the top of the wood and found an extremely hidden mechanism.

It was a 'Luban Lock' specially designed by the ancients for hiding treasures.

Click.

A light sound.

A lid popped open at the top of the wood.

Shen Yan slowly drew out a roll of yellowed paper from inside.

Although the scroll was old, it was preserved extremely well, covered with a bright red seal that exuded a unique imperial majesty.

Shen Yan unfolded the scroll halfway.

Several bold and powerful characters caught his eye.

The entire audience fell into a deathly silence.

The old man in the Tang suit only took one look before his eyes rolled back, almost fainting on the spot.

The bodyguard next to him quickly supported him.

The old man pointed a trembling finger at the scroll, only managing a few broken syllables:

"Yong... Yongle... Encyclopedia..."

"This is the original... This is the authentic manuscript!!!"

Boom——!

If the agarwood just now was a bomb, then these four words were a nuclear bomb.

In this country, anyone who had read a few days of books knew what the yongle encyclopedia meant.

It was the backbone of civilization, the regret of history.

The appearance of every surviving volume on the market would cause a national-level shock.

And now, it was lying quietly in Shen Yan's hands.

Picked up from a pile of trash for fifty thousand yuan.

Lin Zifeng completely collapsed onto his chair.

He looked at the man standing in the spotlight and suddenly felt that his figure was so tall it suffocated him.

What 'Son of the Richest Man in S Jinghai,' what 'New Noble of the Antique Circle.'

At this moment, in the face of absolute foundation and fortune, it all became a joke.

Shen Yan carefully re-rolled the scroll and placed it back into the belly of the agarwood.

He casually tossed this priceless treasure to Chen Guangke, as if tossing him a bottle of mineral water.

"Hold it tight, don't drop it."

Then, he turned and looked at the ashen-faced Lin Zifeng.

"Young Master Lin."

Shen Yan adjusted his cuff, his tone as flat as if discussing the weather today.

"You were right, the antique business is indeed very deep."

"But it seems I am the one standing on the shore, fishing."

"And you..."

Shen Yan didn't finish, just shook his head lightly.

He led Chen Guangke and strode out of the auction hall under the awe-filled gazes of everyone.

Leaving behind only a figure that inspired reverence and a lingering fragrance that refused to dissipate.

Walking to the door, Chen Guangke hugged the piece of wood, his hands trembling.

"Brother Yan... Brother Yan, how much is this thing really worth?"

Shen Yan opened the car door and got into the rolls-royce phantom.

"Money?"

He looked at the prosperous night view of S Jinghai outside the window, the corner of his mouth curving slightly.

"Guang Ke, you must remember."

"When we reach our level, if some things can only be measured by money, then they are too cheap."

"This thing is the entry ticket to the next level."

The car started and slowly drove into the night.

Shen Yan took out his phone and sent a message to Ning Ke.

["Got the item. Help me contact the museum in the capital; I want to donate."]

Putting down his phone, Shen Yan closed his eyes.

Inside the rolls-royce phantom, the priceless agarwood fragrance did not dissipate with the closing of the windows; instead, it seemed determined to permeate the leather seats, drilling into people's bones.

Chen Guangke huddled stiffly in the passenger seat as if holding a nuclear bomb about to detonate, not daring to reach out and adjust the seatbelt cutting into his neck.

His hands, usually flying over the keyboard, were now gripping the wooden box in his arms so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"Brother Yan, are we really donating it just like that?"

Chen Guangke swallowed, his voice sounding a bit shaky.

"This is nine hundred million, not nine hundred yuan, nor ninety thousand."

"Doesn't our company's net profit last year even reach that much?"

Shen Yan leaned back in the rear seat, holding an unlit cigarette, his gaze fixed on the neon lights rapidly receding outside the window.

The night view of S Jinghai was beautiful, beautiful as a mirage built from countless gold coins.

"Nine hundred million is indeed a lot."

Shen Yan turned the cigarette between his fingers, his tone as flat as if discussing whether to have soy milk or fried dough sticks for breakfast tomorrow.

"But some things are hot potatoes when held in hand, and only when given away do they become paving stones of gold."

"Fools like Lin Zifeng only see money, which is why he will only ever be a second-generation rich kid kept by his family."

"The business we want to do requires not just money, but 'influence.'"

Chen Guangke nodded vaguely. Although he felt the pain of losing the money, he trusted Shen Yan.

Ever since Brother Yan crawled out of that family tragedy, every decision he made had ultimately proven to be correct.

Shen Yan didn't explain further, his fingers sliding across the phone screen, bringing up the WeChat message Ning Ke had just sent.

It contained only a location and a time.

["Jinghai City National Museum West Gate, special access passage. See you in two hours. Director Qi is already there."]

Ning Ke's efficiency was as high as ever.

Shen Yan's mouth curved slightly, and he tossed the phone aside.

"Head to Jinghai, drive faster."

Driver Old Zhang acknowledged with a sound, lightly stepping on the accelerator. The twelve-cylinder engine let out a low roar.

This black behemoth tore through the night curtain, speeding toward the center of power.

Two hours later.

The west gate of the Jinghai National Museum was unremarkable. The iron gate, usually shut tight, was open now, with two armed police officers standing rigidly on either side.

As soon as the car stopped, a middle-aged man in a dark gray Zhongshan suit hurried forward to meet them.

Ning Ke.

This middleman, known for his smooth dealings in the capital circle, now lacked his usual casual demeanor, his expression frighteningly serious.

"The item?"

Ning Ke opened the car door, not even bothering to exchange pleasantries with Shen Yan, his eyes immediately darting toward Chen Guangke's arms.

Shen Yan got out of the car and straightened the slightly wrinkled hem of his suit.

"It's in Guang Ke's arms, kept warm all the way."

Ning Ke didn't respond, just beckoned towards the inside.

Several staff members wearing white gloves and dust-proof suits immediately pushed out a silver-white temperature-controlled box.

Chen Guangke carefully placed the piece of agarwood inside, his movements as gentle as if he were setting down a newborn infant.

Only when the box's latch clicked shut did he finally let out a breath, feeling completely drained.

"Let's go. Director Qi is waiting inside."