239: Chapter 239 The Priceless Graffiti

Duke Louis put down the bidding paddle in his hand.

The entire main venue was so quiet that only the hum of the air conditioning could be heard.

Xiao Ye, sitting in the first row, stood up. His knee bumped the table next to him, knocking over a goblet. Red wine spilled out, dripping onto his white custom-tailored suit pants. He ignored the stains.

"Old man, have you come to the wrong place?" Xiao Ye pointed toward the venue's entrance. "This is a charity auction in the Imperial Capital. You're bidding a hundred million dollars for a piece of unwanted graffiti? How much did Chen Muyang pay you to show up?"

Duke Louis did not respond. Leaning on a solid wood cane inlaid with a silver lion's head, he walked step by step along the red carpet toward the VIP seats in the first row.

A dozen people followed behind him in two rows. Most of them were elderly, dressed in proper tailcoats. Each wore a metal badge of ancient design on their chest.

Chen Muyang sat in his seat, silent. He watched the group of foreign elders approach.

Chen Nianyao sat beside him, her hands clasped on her lap. She did not recognize these people.

"What, exposed by me and now you're afraid to speak?" Xiao Ye continued from the side. He turned to look at Chen Muyang. "Young Director Chen, is the Huihuang Group so sloppy with their schemes now? Just pulling some random foreign old man off the street to drive up the price—do you really think everyone here is brainless?"

Dozens of domestic collectors in the back rows were whispering among themselves. Some took out their phones to take pictures of the old man leading the way.

Hans quickened his pace, passing Duke Louis. He walked to the front of the auction stage.

The staff member stood aside, not daring to move. Hans took the spare microphone directly from his hand.

"I am Hans." He switched on the microphone, his voice broadcasting through the stereo speakers on both sides of the hall. "Chief Appraiser of the British Museum."

As soon as those words were spoken, the whispering in the back rows ceased.

An elderly domestic collector in the front row adjusted his reading glasses. He operated a tablet on the table for a moment, then stood up, his chair legs screeching harshly against the floor.

Hans did not pause; he pointed at Louis, who was standing before Chen Nianyao. "This is the current curator of the Louvre Museum in France, Duke Louis."

The sound of several chairs scraping the floor echoed through the venue. Several more people who knew the industry stood up.

"And the twelve behind me represent twelve other top national museums in Europe," Hans continued into the microphone. "We are gathered here today to jointly bid one hundred million dollars to acquire this painting titled 'new life'."

Xiao Ye took a step forward. He glared at Hans.

"How much did Chen Fan pay you?" Xiao Ye asked. "Coming here to put on an act? A piece that was just painted, with no reputation at all—you're going to spend a hundred million dollars to buy it for your collections?"

Duke Louis stopped. He turned to look at Xiao Ye.

"Young man, you know nothing of art," Louis said. "Measuring the value of a painting with money is, in itself, a profanity against art."

"Cut the empty talk," Xiao Ye retorted. "Just because you say you're curators doesn't mean you are. Who would believe you?"

Hans took a document from his inner suit pocket. He walked over to Xiao Ye and tossed it onto the table.

It was a joint appraisal certificate bearing the anti-counterfeiting marks of both the British Museum and the Louvre Museum. It was signed by all of them.

Xiao Ye glanced down at the document. His Adam's apple bobbed.

Duke Louis walked up to Chen Nianyao. He took off his top hat, bowed slightly, and performed a standard European noble's salute.

"Miss Chen," Louis said. "Before coming here, I kept wondering what the person who could paint with such artistic conception looked like. You are even younger than we imagined."

Chen Nianyao sat stunned in her seat. She looked at the old man before her.

"You really intend to spend a hundred million dollars on this painting?" Chen Nianyao asked.

Louis nodded. He stood up straight.

"Mr. Chen Fan has returned over a dozen priceless Chinese artifacts to your country for free. He asked for nothing in return," Louis said. "This kind of magnanimity cannot be bought with money."

He turned around to face the media and cameras in the venue.

"This 'new life' is not just an excellent piece of art. It is the highest tribute from the entire European art world to Mr. Chen Fan and the talented daughter of the Chen family." Louis struck his cane heavily on the floor. "This painting will be sent on a private jet tomorrow. It will be part of the permanent collection, displayed in the Grand Gallery of the Louvre Museum."

The venue was silent for two seconds.

The domestic bosses and collectors in the back rows all stood up. They clapped vigorously. The applause echoed through the hall.

Those who hadn't dared to raise their paddles earlier due to pressure from Xiao Ye were now clapping until their hands were red.

The auctioneer stood on the stage, wiping sweat from his forehead.

He raised his gavel and shouted into the microphone, "One hundred million dollars, once!"

"One hundred million dollars, twice!"

"One hundred million dollars, three times!"

The gavel slammed down onto the metal plate on the table with a crisp crack.

"Sold!"

All the media reporters squeezed forward with their cameras. Flashes lit up the room.

Chen Nianyao bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She ignored the cameras. She stood up and turned to look at the corner in the very last row of the venue.

Chen Fan, dressed in a grey casual outfit, was standing there in the shadows.

Chen Nianyao ran down the steps. She pushed through the crowd until she reached Chen Fan, throwing her arms around him.

"Dad," Chen Nianyao buried her head in Chen Fan's shoulder.

Chen Fan reached out and patted his daughter's back. "I told you, your paintings don't need others to define them."

Xiao Ye stood in the first row. No one was beside him. The rich kids he had brought along had long since hidden in the back, afraid of being caught on camera standing with him.

He looked at Chen Fan, who was surrounded by the crowd and flashes, and then glanced at the appraisal certificate on the table.

He had spent a fortune bribing the most influential international critics and had been setting this trap for so long. He wanted to disparage Chen Nianyao's painting as scrap paper and slap the Chen family's face in front of the whole world.

Yet, without even making a single public phone call, Chen Fan had brought the true titans of the European art world to endorse her. This kind of dimensional reduction strike hurt more than being slapped twice in the face.

Xiao Ye turned and headed for the side door. He pushed past two reporters in his way and strode out of the venue.

Hotel underground parking garage.

The driver opened the back door of the black maybach. Xiao Ye got in and slammed the door shut.

"Go," Xiao Ye said.

The car started and drove out of the garage.

Xiao Ye took out a black encrypted satellite phone and dialed a series of numbers.

The call connected.

"The path through the art world is blocked," Xiao Ye gripped the phone. "Those old fogies don't play by the rules."

"Mr. Xiao, should we activate the backup plan?" the man on the other end of the line asked.

"Activate it," Xiao Ye gritted his teeth. "Go to the Northwest."

"Security there is very tight. Half of the Huihuang Group's Shadow Guard is watching that place."

"Bring geological destruction experts and high-explosive armor-piercing shells." Xiao Ye watched the street scenery fly by outside the window. "I want them to create an artificial earthquake. Bury the entire underground transport line of Huihuang's new mining area in the sand. I want to cut off Chen Fan's foundation."

"Understood. Scorpion has already taken people there. They've disguised themselves as a geological research team."

"Tell him to move fast. I want to hear good news before dawn," Xiao Ye said.

There was no reply from the other end. After a few seconds, the man's voice came through again, sounding a bit hesitant.

"Why aren't you speaking?" Xiao Ye asked.

"Mr. Xiao, Scorpion just sent a message," the man said. "They've reached the outskirts of the mining area and are preparing to unload the explosives."

"Then blow it up."

"But Scorpion says the sand dunes on the outskirts don't seem right," the man's voice lowered.

"What's wrong? Did they run into a patrol?"

"No." The man on the phone paused. "Scorpion said they looked around with night vision goggles and didn't see a single person. But on the surrounding sand dunes, dozens of pairs of eerie green eyes have lit up, staring fixedly at them."