35: Chapter 35 Rejection

April 19, 2025, Saturday, Sunny, 17 ~ 26°C.

When the morning light filtered through the thin mist into the room, Qiao Yichen had already changed into his sportswear and was standing by the window.

He glanced at his phone—6:03 AM.

The moment he pushed the door open, the cool morning air rushed toward him.

At this hour, the complex was very quiet, with only a few early-rising elderly people taking slow walks. He followed the familiar path toward the green space, his footsteps making a rhythmic, light sound on the ground.

After running three hundred meters, he deliberately adjusted his breathing.

Five hundred meters, and the soreness in his legs began to become distinct.

Eight hundred meters, fine sweat beaded on his forehead, but the air in his chest remained smooth.

This body was truly different.

He recalled the day he was reborn—twenty-five-year-old Qiao Yichen collapsing at his workstation, the feeling of being suffocated as if gripped tightly, his vision darkening, his fingertips turning ice-cold. That was the experience of near-death. But now, he could clearly feel the blood rushing through his veins, his muscles contracting and relaxing rhythmically, and a healthy warmth accompanying the expansion of his lungs.

After finishing the three-kilometer run, he stopped beside a long bench.

Sweat soaked the back of his sportswear, and the stray hairs on his forehead clung to his skin. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, taking several deep breaths as his heart rate rapidly dropped from its peak. There was no dizziness, no darkening of his vision, only the solid fatigue of exertion.

He returned and took a shower. As the hot water washed over his body, he looked at the person in the mirror—his cheeks now had color, the dark circles left by staying up late had faded significantly, and the lines of his shoulders and arms were more defined than a few weeks ago.

Money could buy nutrition, and a regular schedule could repair bodily functions, but what truly revitalized this body was these three kilometers every morning.

He dried his hair and picked up his phone.

In his WeChat list, the name 'Liu Yanran' was paused on the unreplied invitation from last night. He tapped the dialogue box, his fingertip hovering over the screen for a few seconds before he typed:

"Morning, are you awake? Remember to eat breakfast."

Sent.

No 'The other party is typing' prompt appeared above the screen. He waited for five minutes, but the dialogue box remained silent.

He placed the phone on the table, went downstairs, and bought soy milk and steamed buns at the complex entrance. After bringing them back to his room and finishing his meal, he took out the trash. He checked his phone again; still no reply.—It seemed she hadn't cooled down yet.

Qiao Yichen washed his hands and sat down at his desk.

He spread the book, 'research on huanghuali furniture,' on the table; several pale yellow sticky notes were tucked between the pages.

He flipped to the chapter on 'Ming Style Furniture Joinery Structures' and reread it.

The book stated that the mortise and tenon joints of old furniture would develop unique wear marks due to years of use and changes in temperature and humidity. Replicas could imitate the appearance, but it was very difficult to perfectly reproduce this state formed naturally over time.

He made a few notes and then searched online for several papers on the 'Hundred Treasures Inlay' technique. This decorative method, popular in the Ming Dynasty, involved inlaying materials like ivory, jade, and mother-of-pearl onto the furniture surface to create patterns. Genuine pieces would have subtle transitional wear along the inlay edges, whereas replicas often had harsh edges.

The sunlight outside slowly crept across the desk, falling onto the open pages.

Qiao Yichen glanced at the time—10:47 AM. He closed the book, got up, and changed his clothes.

...

The local branch of the 'Jiayi Xuan Auction House' was located in an independent antique-style building in the west of the city. It featured white walls, black tiles, and upturned eaves, with two stone lions standing guard at the entrance.

The afternoon sun at two o'clock slanted across the plaque, making the hot-stamped gold lettering shine with a gentle luster.

Pushing open the door, cool air carrying a faint scent of sandalwood greeted him.

The lobby was spacious, the floor paved with dark marble so polished it reflected light. Several preview items were displayed in glass showcases lining the walls—a blue-and-white plum vase, a pair of famille rose bowls, and a hanging scroll landscape painting. The entire space was exceptionally quiet, save for the low hum of the central air conditioning.

Two young women in qipaos sat at the reception desk. Seeing Qiao Yichen enter, one of them stood up and offered a standard, bright smile: "Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?"

"Hello." Qiao Yichen walked up to the counter. "I'd like to inquire if there is a 'Private Negotiation Fair for Overseas Returned Antiques' next week?"

The girl's smile paused slightly. She looked down to check the computer, tapping the keyboard a few times, then looked up. Her tone was still polite but carried a touch more formality: "I apologize, sir, we are not entirely clear on the specific arrangements for that event. Could you wait a moment? I will ask the manager in charge of that department to speak with you?"

"Yes, thank you for the trouble."

The girl picked up the internal phone and spoke softly for a few sentences. After hanging up, she gestured for Qiao Yichen to wait in the nearby lounge area.

The lounge was furnished with a set of rosewood horseshoe-back armchairs. Qiao Yichen did not sit, his gaze sweeping across the hall. The environment was elegant, yet it exuded a sense of detachment, like an invisible wall. A few minutes later, a man around forty years old, dressed in a dark gray suit, emerged from the inner room.

"Good afternoon, sir. I am the business manager at Jiayi Xuan, my surname is Xu." He extended his hand, his smile professional. "I heard you wanted to inquire about next week's Private Negotiation Fair?"

"Manager Xu, hello." Qiao Yichen shook his hand. "My name is Qiao Yichen. I am indeed very interested in this event and would like to ask about the conditions for participation."

Manager Xu led him to sit on the armchairs and took a seat himself, his posture relaxed but his back straight. "Mr. Qiao, is this your first time contacting our Jiayi Xuan Auction House?"

"Yes."

"Then I might need to explain a few things to you first." Manager Xu's tone was very steady as he stated, "Our 'Private Negotiation Fair for Overseas Returned Antiques' is not a public auction. It operates on an invitation-only basis, exclusively for a specific group of clients."

Qiao Yichen nodded, signaling him to continue.

"Specifically," Manager Xu leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, "those who receive an invitation are either long-term cooperative clients of Jiayi Xuan—clients who have completed multiple transactions with us, whose credit and financial strength have been verified—or they are recommended by these existing clients, or by cultural institutions or galleries we recognize."

"Can individuals not apply to participate directly?"

"In principle, no." Manager Xu's answer was definitive. "Antique trading, especially high-value returned cultural relics, involves large sums of money and requires significant expertise. We set this threshold to ensure all participating parties possess the corresponding appreciation ability and genuine intent to trade, avoiding some... unnecessary trouble."

He spoke very tactfully, but his meaning was clear: this circle did not welcome outsiders or speculators.

Qiao Yichen was silent for a few seconds, then asked, "If I want to qualify to participate, what is the most direct route?"

Manager Xu looked at him, his gaze carrying a hint of scrutiny.

"The most direct route," Manager Xu said slowly, "is to find an established client recognized by Jiayi Xuan, or a cooperative institution, and have them recommend you. This acts as a form of credit endorsement—their willingness to vouch for you indicates that you are trustworthy within this circle."

"What if I temporarily lack such resources?"

"Then I'm afraid..." Manager Xu offered a slightly apologetic smile, "it would be difficult for us to make an exception for you. These are the rules. I hope you can understand."

With the conversation having reached this point, asking further would be impolite.

Qiao Yichen stood up: "I understand. Thank you, Manager Xu, for your patient explanation."

"You're welcome." Manager Xu also stood up, took a deep gray business card from his card holder, and handed it over. "If you later find a suitable recommender, please feel free to contact me anytime."

The business card felt heavy, printed with 'Jiayi Xuan Auction House · Business Manager Xu Wenyuan' and contact information.

Qiao Yichen accepted the card.

"Then I won't keep you any longer."

"Safe travels, Mr. Qiao."

As he walked out of the Jiayi Xuan entrance, the afternoon sun was blazing. Qiao Yichen stood on the steps, looking back at the white-walled, black-tiled building.

The door closed.

He walked forward along the street, passing a coffee shop, passing a bookstore, passing a bus stop. The leaves of the plane trees by the roadside rustled in the wind, and food delivery riders on electric scooters zipped past him.

Everything was the same as when he arrived.

Only now, he had an extra business card in his pocket, and he knew the specific rule:

He needed a recommender.

Without a recommender, he could not enter the Private Negotiation Fair.

He arrived at the intersection without realizing it and stopped, waiting for the red light.

He looked up. On the exterior wall of the mall across the street, a massive digital screen was playing an advertisement for jewelry.

The light turned green.