90: Chapter 90 The treasures you speak of are all junk, worth only three thousand.

Qian Zhenghao stood on the stage, holding that so-called "Qianlong Blue and White Appreciation Vase" in his hand.

He sneered inwardly.

This kid named Qin Feng certainly had some tricks up his sleeve, but in Jinling, on his—Qian Zhenghao's—turf, even a dragon had to coil up!

This Hongmen Banquet today was meant to completely shatter that laughable spirit of his in front of the entire Jiangnan Province!

He looked at the familiar faces in the audience; these were all people looking to attach themselves to the Qian Family.

Calling Qin Feng here today was just to make him recognize his lowly position.

As for these auction items? They were all treasures from his warehouse, and every single one had been appraised by more than one expert!

He wanted this nouveau riche to know that money did not equal heritage!

"Everyone, for the sake of the children in the mountains, please place your bids."

As soon as he finished speaking, a middle-aged bald man sitting to Qin Feng's left immediately raised his paddle.

"Five point five million!"

This man was Zhu Dachang, a building materials businessman in Jinling who was currently begging the Qian Family to approve a plot of land.

He shouted this at the top of his lungs, the fat on his neck trembling along with it,

while his eyes kept drifting toward Qian Zhenghao on the stage, his face full of smiles, as if he were asking for credit.

"Good! President Zhu is generous! Five point five million, going once!" Qian Zhenghao nodded with satisfaction.

"Six million!"

In another corner, a man dressed in a sharp suit that could not hide his rough, street-smart aura also raised his paddle.

This was Zhao Sihai, who worked in logistics and was an old follower of the Qian Family.

"President Zhao bids six million! Are there any higher bids?"

"Six point five million!" Zhu Dachang panicked, wiped the oily sweat from his forehead, and gritted his teeth as he increased the bid.

He was determined to get that plot of land; in his eyes, this money was not for buying an antique, but for buying a nod from Qian Zhenghao.

"Seven million!" Zhao Sihai was not to be outdone.

The two went back and forth, the price soaring all the way until it finally settled at 8.8 million.

"8.8 million! Congratulations to President Zhu!" Qian Zhenghao brought the gavel down,

"President Zhu has not only acquired a rare treasure but has also made a huge contribution to charity! Let's have a round of applause!"

Zhu Dachang was so excited his face turned bright red; he stood up and cupped his hands to the crowd, as if he had truly become some kind of philanthropist.

He deliberately glanced at Qin Feng, his eyes filled with a touch of provocation and showing off, as if to say: "Kid, you won't last long in Jinling if you don't know the rules."

For the next half hour,

that "Zhang Daqian Splashed-Ink Landscape" with its restless ink tones

was auctioned off for 12 million by a finance boss who started in P2P, who even recited a poem on the spot, lamenting that art is priceless.

That "Ming Dynasty Bronze Buddha" with glued-on patina

was taken home by a coal boss who wanted to enter the entertainment industry for nine million, saying he would place it in his company to guard the house.

Everyone who won an auction item would deliver a heartfelt speech,

thanking Old Qian for giving them the opportunity to do good deeds, and thanking the Qian Family for building this platform.

The atmosphere was lively, with glasses clinking and the sound of flattery ringing to the heavens.

Only Qin Feng was an exception.

He leaned back in his chair wearing headphones, holding his phone with one hand, his thumb sliding across the screen.

Ye Qingcheng sat beside him; although she knew Qin Feng had a plan, she was still on pins and needles.

Although she did not know much about antiques, she could see that the atmosphere was wrong.

The gazes cast from those around them were full of disdain and mockery.

"Qin Feng." Ye Qingcheng lowered her voice and nudged him gently with her elbow,

"Hmm?" Qin Feng took off his headphones. "Stop playing around. Qian Zhenghao has been watching you."

"Why is he watching me? Do I have flowers on my face?"

"He's setting a trap for you!" Ye Qingcheng said, growing anxious,

"In an occasion like this, if you don't spend a dime, tomorrow's Jinling newspapers will write you up as a cold-blooded miser."

"Image?" Qin Feng chuckled and finally locked his phone.

He looked up, meeting Qian Zhenghao's mocking gaze on the stage.

At this moment, the final auction item was presented—a white porcelain plate from the Ding Kiln, claimed to be from the Song Dynasty.

Because the starting bid was set at 20 million, even though everyone present was wealthy,

they were not fools, and the price was simply too high; no one was willing to be the sucker.

The situation was momentarily awkward.

Yet Qian Zhenghao was not flustered at all; he picked up the microphone and looked at Qin Feng.

"It seems everyone is still hesitant about this piece of Song porcelain."

Qian Zhenghao sighed, looking heartbroken,

"Young people these days are still too restless. They only know how to make money, but they don't understand the accumulation of culture, let alone how to give back to society."

He paused, then changed the subject:

"President Qin, I've seen you playing on your phone all night."

"Do you find our gathering of old fogies too boring?"

"Or is it that... even though President Qin acquired Prosperity and holds billions in cash, you can't even bear to part with a mere 20 million?"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and once again looked at Qin Feng in unison.

This was naked moral blackmail, and it was the pit Qian Zhenghao had dug for Qin Feng.

If he bought it, he would be a sucker—paying 20 million for a plate and having to owe the Qian Family a favor.

If he did not buy it, he would be seen as heartless, stingy, and petty, and his reputation would be ruined by tomorrow.

Zhu Dachang, who had just bought the fake vase, was the first to jump out and chime in. He held his wine glass and said in a sarcastic tone:

"Old Qian, you're making it hard for President Qin."

"He's from Jiangcheng, so he might not have seen such a grand occasion."

"Young people, you know, just got rich, so they value money more than their lives. It's understandable, understandable!"

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd.

"That's right, President Qin, this is for charity." The finance boss who bought the fake painting also chimed in,

"Even those of us with smaller businesses have contributed. It wouldn't be right for a big shark like you to not make a move, would it?"

"Could it be that you're just pretending to be rich when you're actually broke?"

"Tiansheng Group is just an empty shell now; maybe all his money has gone to fill the holes."

The mockery and ridicule came in like a tide.

Ye Qingcheng gripped her skirt tightly; she wanted to stand up and retort, but was once again held down by Qin Feng's hand on the back of hers.

Qin Feng's palm was large and warm, carrying a sense of reassurance.

He leisurely picked up his wine glass and stood up.

That air of laziness and nobility emanating from his very bones actually caused the surrounding noise to gradually fade away.

"Old Qian is right."

Qin Feng swirled his wine glass, a playful arc curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Young people really shouldn't be too restless."

"However..."

He swept his gaze across the room, finally landing on Zhu Dachang, his eyes looking as if he were staring at an idiot.

"I'm not bidding, not because I can't bear to part with the money, but because I don't want to be a fool like you all."

"But because..."

"I don't collect junk."

"What did you say?!"

The fat on Zhu Dachang's face twitched violently, and the wine he had just drunk nearly sprayed out.

He slammed his wine glass onto the table with a sharp "bang."

"You surnamed Qin! Watch your mouth! What do you mean by junk?!"

"And who are you calling a fool."

"This is a treasure brought out by Old Qian! An official kiln from the Qianlong era! Appraised by experts! You don't know jack!"

Qin Feng ignored him and walked slowly over to Zhu Dachang.

Qin Feng looked at the blue and white appreciation vase on the table, extended a slender finger, and tapped it lightly against the vase's body.

"Ding—"

The sound was dull, lacking the crispness that porcelain should have.

"President Zhu, spending 8.8 million to learn a lesson isn't too much of a loss."

Qin Feng turned around to face the room; his voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.

"This vase has a loose body, and the glaze has a harsh, artificial luster; it's clearly been chemically treated with hydrofluoric acid to remove the shine."

"Although attempts were made to cover up this acrid smell, if you get close and sniff, you can still smell a pungent odor."

Zhu Dachang's expression changed, and he subconsciously leaned in to smell it.

Sure enough!

A faint sour smell crept into his nostrils.

"And the reign mark on the bottom."

Qin Feng pointed to the bottom of the vase,

"The six characters 'Made in the Qianlong Era of the Great Qing Dynasty' have stiff brushwork and lack any spirit."

"If I'm not mistaken, this is a modern technique where the base is first etched with a laser engraving machine, and then filled with color by hand."

"This technique has only become popular in the forgery circle in the last few years."

"This thing would sell for a wholesale price of just 3,500 at a street stall in Panjiayuan."

"President Zhu, spending 8.8 million on a 3,500-yuan craft item—your charity work is truly generous."

Zhu Dachang's face instantly turned the color of pig liver; he looked at the vase,

then at the gloomy-faced Qian Zhenghao on the stage, opened his mouth, but could not say a word.

Although he did not know antiques, Qin Feng's explanation was logical and thorough, and that sour smell definitely could not be faked!

Qin Feng did not stop there.

He walked over to the finance boss and pointed to the painting.

"A Zhang Daqian splashed-ink landscape? The paper is indeed old, likely stripped from an old Qing Dynasty ledger."

"But the ink tone is floating rather than sinking, exuding a crafty sheen."

"The most ridiculous part is the seal; the ink paste used is modern chemical cinnabar,"

"the color is excessively vibrant, and it will turn black in three to five years."

He then pointed to the bronze Buddha in the corner.

"And this Buddha statue—the patina is glued on, and it will fall off if you just scratch it with your fingernail."

"Don't believe me? You can try it."

The coal boss who bought the Buddha statue subconsciously reached out and scratched the base of the statue.

"Click."

A piece of green "patina" fell off, revealing the bright, golden brass underneath, where even the traces of grinding could be seen.