154: Chapter 154 Old Street Antique Market

Hu Tian looked at his phone; it was 7:30 PM.

He stood up and walked to the window; outside, the lights were already coming on.

The architectural complex on the Bund was illuminated. Across the Huangpu River, the Oriental Pearl Tower, Jin Mao Tower, and Shanghai Tower were all draped in colorful lights, reflecting on the river surface, looking absolutely magnificent.

The cruise ships on the river also lit up, moving slowly by and leaving trails of light.

Hu Tian stood by the window watching for a while, and his stomach began to rumble.

He washed his face, changed his clothes, and went downstairs to the hotel restaurant to eat.

The restaurant at the Peace Hotel was on the first floor, decorated in the same Art Deco style, with crystal chandeliers, marble pillars, and photos of old Shanghai hanging on the walls.

Hu Tian found a window seat and sat down, ordering several Shanghai-style dishes—braised pork belly, sweet and sour pork ribs, sautéed shredded eel, crab meat tofu, and a portion of Yangzhou fried rice.

The dishes arrived quickly, and they tasted good; the braised pork was fatty but not greasy, the sweet and sour pork ribs were tangy and delicious, and the sautéed shredded eel was fresh, tender, and smooth.

Hu Tian ate slowly, watching the night view outside the window.

There weren't many guests in the restaurant, mostly foreign tourists speaking English, French, and Japanese, with laughter occasionally drifting over.

After finishing his meal, Hu Tian returned to his room, took a shower, and lay on the bed scrolling through his phone.

On WeChat, Christies auction manager Chen Jiaxin sent a message: "Mr. Hu, have you arrived in Shanghai?"

Hu Tian replied: "I have arrived and am staying at the Peace Hotel."

Chen Jiaxin: "That's great, I will arrange for someone to deliver the auction invitation tomorrow morning."

He put his phone away.

Hu Tian lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about his upcoming plans.

He could stroll around the Bund tomorrow, explore the famous "Ten Miles of Foreign Markets," see those historic buildings, and soak in the atmosphere of old Shanghai.

The next morning, Hu Tian slept until he woke up naturally.

When he opened his eyes, sunlight was already slanting in through the gaps in the thick curtains, casting a thin beam of light onto the carpet.

Hu Tian checked his phone; it was 8:20 AM.

He stretched, sat up, and felt refreshed; he had slept exceptionally soundly last night, straight through until dawn.

He got up, washed, and changed into clean casual clothes—a dark gray casual shirt paired with slim-fit dark trousers, and a pair of understated white sneakers on his feet.

Once dressed, he was just about to go out for breakfast when a knock sounded at the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Hu Tian walked over and opened the door.

Standing at the door was a young man in a crisp suit with his hair groomed meticulously. He held a black envelope in his hands, with the golden Christies logo printed on the front, and the gold-stamped patterns shimmering slightly under the hallway lights.

"Hello, may I ask if you are Mr. Hu Tian?"

The young man asked politely.

"That's me."

"I am a staff member from the Christies Shanghai office. Entrusted by Manager Chen, I have come specifically to deliver the invitation for this autumn auction. Please sign for it."

Hu Tian took the envelope and flipped through it. The black envelope had a high-quality, thick texture and felt weighty in his hand. The seal was closed with a golden wax stamp, giving it a sense of ceremony.

"Alright, I've received it. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Hu. If you have any questions, feel free to contact Manager Chen at any time."

The young man bowed and turned to leave.

Hu Tian brought the envelope inside and set it casually on the coffee table. He didn't look at it closely, planning to deal with it when he returned.

He went out, took the elevator downstairs, and went to the first-floor restaurant for breakfast.

Breakfast was a buffet, with a complete variety of both Chinese and Western options.

Hu Tian took a bowl of porridge, some side dishes, and a boiled egg, then found a window seat and sat down.

Outside the window, the Huangpu River shimmered with golden light in the morning sun, and early morning ferries were already moving back and forth on the river.

The architectural complex on the Bund appeared exceptionally imposing in the morning light. Those century-old buildings, with light and shadow interplaying on their gray-white stone facades, exuded an indescribable historical aura.

Hu Tian ate slowly, in a very good mood.

After breakfast, he left the hotel and had the concierge call a taxi at the entrance.

"Go to the Bund area."

The driver was a middle-aged man with a heavy Shanghai accent in his Mandarin. After chatting for a few sentences and hearing that this was Hu Tian's first time properly exploring the Bund, he enthusiastically recommended places, saying he must go up the Oriental Pearl Tower, the observation deck of the Jin Mao Tower also had a good view, and the rooftop of the International Finance Center offered the true top-tier scenery.

Hu Tian smiled and agreed.

The car drove slowly along East Zhongshan 1st Road, and the scene of the Bund slowly unfolded.

To the right was the Huangpu River, and to the left was a row of stretching modern buildings: the HSBC Building, the Customs House, the Bank of China Building, the Sassoon House...

Building after building, with styles ranging from Classicism and Baroque to Romanesque and Gothic, all blended together, yet they were harmoniously and strikingly beautiful, exuding that unique prosperity of old Shanghai.

Hu Tian got out of the car, stood on the pedestrian walkway of the Bund, and looked up at these buildings.

During his university days, he had studied some architectural history and knew that most of these buildings were built in the early 20th century. They were symbols of Western colonial power at the time, but they also left behind a batch of architectural heritage with great artistic value.

The great clock on top of the Customs House was still running, and every quarter of an hour, its melodious tolling would ring across the river.

Hu Tian walked slowly along the pedestrian path for a while, looking at the river view and the buildings, occasionally stopping to take pictures and send them to Zhou Waner, receiving a string of envious emojis in return.

After strolling for about an hour, Hu Tian took a ferry across the river to Pudong.

The Oriental Pearl Tower was even more impressive up close than from afar. Those two giant spheres stacked together, with their pink facade set against the blue sky and white clouds, revealed a strange sense of beauty.

Hu Tian went up to the observation deck and stood on the transparent floor, looking down at the city below. The whole of Shanghai spread out before his eyes; the Huangpu River flowed through the city like a winding jade belt, and the high-rise buildings on both banks were densely packed, extending all the way to the skyline.

After coming out of the Oriental Pearl Tower, he went to the International Finance Center.

The Shanghai World Financial Center, which locals call the "Bottle Opener" because of that iconic trapezoidal opening at the top.

The observation deck was from the 94th to the 100th floor. Hu Tian bought a ticket and took the elevator up, his ears feeling slightly blocked as the air pressure changed.

Pushing open the door to the observation deck, a gust of wind hit his face.

This was the true top floor.

Hu Tian walked to the edge, held the railing, and looked down. Below him was a dense city, cars were as small as ants, the Huangpu River wound past before his eyes, and the architectural complex of the Bund on the opposite bank looked like delicate building blocks.

In the distance, where visibility was high, he could even faintly see the undulating terrain of the distant suburbs.

The wind was strong, blowing his clothes with a flapping sound.

Hu Tian stood there for a long time, feeling the vastness of this high place, his mind completely cleared.

After coming down, it was nearly noon.

Hu Tian wasn't in a hurry to eat, so he hailed a taxi and told the driver to go to Yangchang Old Street.

The driver paused for a moment, then immediately understood: "You mean the Antique Street Antique Market over by East Nanjing Road, right?"

"Yes."

The car drove through a few streets and turned into a relatively old neighborhood.

This area was sandwiched between high-rise buildings, like a corner forgotten by time, with old lanes, mottled walls, stone-paved streets, dense power lines overhead, and occasionally a few plane trees stretching out their branches, casting mottled shadows in the sunlight.

At the entrance of the street was a wooden sign with a few traditional Chinese characters written on it: Yangchang Old Street.

Hu Tian paid the fare, got out of the car, and walked in.

This Antique Street was not too long, about two or three hundred meters, with dozens of shops squeezed densely on both sides. Some had spacious storefronts with neatly arranged porcelain and calligraphy and paintings in glass display cases; others were just small cubicle shops with a few old tables placed at the entrance, piled high with all sorts of things—bronze ware, jade ware, coins, stamps, everything.

There weren't many people on the street, just a few scattered strollers. There were old gentlemen who looked like experts, holding magnifying glasses to carefully examine the items in the display cases; there were also young tourists with cameras taking pictures everywhere; and a few foreigners were gesturing at something with a shop owner, unable to communicate, gesturing back and forth, both sides looking helpless.

Hu Tian walked in slowly, scanning the shops on both sides casually.

The system radar had been running quietly, like a background program in his consciousness, sensing any abnormalities around him at any time.

After walking a dozen steps, the radar had no particular reaction.

He strolled into the first shop that looked quite sizable, with a sign that read "Bogu Xuan."

The light in the shop was soft, and the rosewood-colored display cases held various types of porcelain: Blue and White, Famille Rose, and underglaze red. Price tags were attached, with numbers written in large print, often tens of thousands, or even over a hundred thousand for more expensive ones.

Hu Tian scanned the area; most were modern imitations. The craftsmanship wasn't bad, but there weren't many items that were truly old.

In the corner near the back, there was a separate display case containing a few items that looked relatively plain: a plain white Prunus Vase, a small celadon glazed jar, and an inconspicuous-looking brown pottery bowl.

Hu Tian's gaze stopped on that brown pottery bowl.

The system radar flickered slightly, like a pebble thrown into water, causing a tiny ripple.

He walked closer.

The pottery bowl was not large, with a diameter of about twelve or thirteen centimeters. The bowl walls were so thin they were almost translucent. Both the inside and outside were glazed with a layer of brown glaze, and the glazed surface had fine crackles, covering the bowl body like a spider web. The deep parts of the glaze had a hint of pitch black, while the lighter parts revealed a warm ochre color. It looked simple and unadorned, even somewhat plain.

But the pottery bowl was emitting circles of pure yellow halo around it.

Rare level.

But Hu Tian looked at it for two seconds, his heart stirred slightly.

He was someone who had seen song dynasty Jian ware, and this bowl...

He turned his head and greeted the shop owner.

The shop owner was a man in his fifties with a round face and glasses. He was sitting behind the counter with his head down, flipping through a book. Hearing the greeting, he looked up, sized Hu Tian up, stood up, and walked over.

"Sir, have you taken a liking to something?"

"Can you take this bowl out for me to see?"

The shop owner looked in the direction of Hu Tian's gaze, his mouth twitching slightly, his tone indifferent: "This? It's an imitation. I just collected it for fun; it's not worth much."

"It's fine, take it out and let me see."

The shop owner took out a key, opened the display case, took out the pottery bowl, placed it on a piece of dark velvet cloth, and handed it to Hu Tian.

Hu Tian took it and held it in his palm.

The bowl was very light, unexpectedly light, and felt warm and smooth in his hand. It didn't have the greasy feel of modern machine-made goods, but rather a delicacy and warmth accumulated over the years.