221: Chapter 221 A Custom-Made Game Within a Game! Even the Paper is Antique!

Night fell over the capital.

In a hidden alley near Sanlitun, Jack pushed a wheelchair and stopped in front of a rusted iron gate.

The knocking sounded in a rhythm of three long and two short beats.

The peephole on the iron gate slid open, revealing a pair of cloudy eyes.

After confirming the identity, the door opened.

The room was filled with the pungent smell of chemicals and the scent of moldy paper.

A thin, white-haired old man wearing thick reading glasses was holding tweezers, carefully peeling away an ancient painting.

The old man was called Ghost Hand Qin.

In the industry, he was a figure whose name alone could make the appraisal experts at Sotheby's break out in a cold sweat.

Several of the "Song Dynasty editions" and "medieval manuscripts" he had handled were still grandly displayed in the showcases of major foreign museums.

Jack handed over a kraft paper bag.

"Elder Qin, it's an urgent job."

Ghost Hand Qin didn't take it, not even lifting an eyelid.

"Do you know the rules? I don't take urgent jobs."

"It's easy to ruin one's reputation."

Jack threw the paper bag onto the table.

A two-million-dollar bearer cashier's check slid out from inside.

The tweezers in Ghost Hand Qin's hand paused for a second.

He adjusted his reading glasses, his gaze falling on the long string of zeros.

"Speak. What's the item?"

Jack listed the requirements Lin Zhou had specified.

Late 19th-century British parchment.

Iron Gall Ink unique to that era.

A private binding consistent with membership in the Royal Geographical Society.

It also needed specific weathering marks consistent with the North African desert climate.

Most importantly, the deadline was only three days.

After listening, Ghost Hand Qin pushed the check back.

"You're asking for my life."

"Everything else is negotiable, but where am I supposed to find unused, large-format blank parchment from the late 19th century right now?"

Jack was prepared; he pulled out a second check from his coat.

The amount was also two million dollars.

"The cost of materials is separate; this is the deposit."

Ghost Hand Qin's hand, looking like withered tree bark, finally pressed down on the two checks.

He stood up and walked to a huge safe in the corner of the room.

"Consider yourselves lucky."

"The year before last, I acquired a batch of clerical notes from the Eight-Nation Alliance period that had come from a certain missionary."

"There happened to be over a dozen blank pages inside."

"The paper's date is definitely between 1880 and 1890."

Ghost Hand Qin took a sealed bag out of the safe.

Inside were several sheets of yellowed parchment with curled edges.

Next, Jack handed over the prepared draft.

This draft was something Lin Zhou had dozens of top geologists from the National Research Institute spend an entire afternoon working in shifts to compile.

It used highly professional archaic English grammar to describe in detail the geomorphic features, rock formations, and changes in temperature and humidity along the way.

Every piece of data could withstand the most rigorous geographical scrutiny.

Particularly the description of that black oil shale, which even included several lifelike hand-drawn geological cross-sections.

The conclusion clearly pointed to that wasteland on the border between Sudan and the Cyber Free Republic.

After reading the draft, Ghost Hand Qin took a row of jars and bottles of various sizes from a drawer.

These were blended batches of Iron Gall Ink.

To mimic different levels of oxidation over time, he specifically prepared a UV lamp and a special chemical catalyst.

Over the next three days.

The lights in this basement never went out.

Ghost Hand Qin demonstrated a terrifying level of skill that would be enough to earn him a place in the history of forgery.

Using a specially made quill, he imitated the copperplate script unique to British aristocrats of that era, transcribing the draft word by word.

Then, he began the aging process.

He dripped trace amounts of high-concentration saltwater onto the paper to simulate sweat dropped during a desert expedition.

He also scraped some "dust of ages" from several genuine antiques sourced from Egypt and applied it evenly into the crevices of the notebook using a special adhesive.

Finally, he placed the entire notebook into a specialized constant-temperature and constant-humidity oven.

After complex physical and chemical reactions.

When the notebook appeared before Jack once again.

Even a man of the world like Jack couldn't help but gasp.

The leather cover of the notebook was shriveled and cracked.

The edges were severely worn.

The paper emitted a stale scent that spanned a century, mixed with a faint, ephemeral hint of desert dryness.

The Iron Gall Ink appeared in varying shades of brownish-tan on the paper, with some spots even showing natural bleeding due to moisture.

Any appraisal expert seeing this item.

Their first reaction would definitely be to quickly put on white gloves, for fear of damaging this precious historical relic.

"Take it away."

Ghost Hand Qin waved his hand wearily.

"This job has cost me six months of my life."

Jack placed a briefcase filled with the remaining balance on the table.

He carefully packed the notebook into a vacuum bag.

After leaving the basement, Jack immediately rushed to the temporary headquarters.

It was now late into the night of the third day.

Lin Zhou was sitting in his office, looking through the day's engineering progress report.

Seeing the notebook Jack brought out, Lin Zhou put on gloves and flipped through a few pages.

Even though he didn't understand antique appraisal.

He could still feel the heavy sense of historical vicissitude emanating from the object.

Forgery at this level could already be considered an art form.

"It's done perfectly."

Lin Zhou closed the notebook and placed it on the desk.

Jack reported on the intelligence tracking from the past three days.

"Arthur hasn't left the hotel for the past three days."

"He spoke with that anonymous overseas number twice."

"Judging by the changes in call duration, the other party has likely lost patience and is preparing to abandon this operation."

Lin Zhou picked up his coffee and took a sip.

"The timing is just right."

"If they weren't anxious at all, this play would be harder to continue."

Lin Zhou picked up his phone.

"Have the finance department get ready."

"Transfer the money to the designated offshore account immediately."

Jack hesitated for a moment.

"The full fifty million?"

"The full amount."

Lin Zhou's tone was very relaxed.

"If I don't give them a little taste of sweetness, how can I get them to stick their necks into the meat grinder I've prepared?"