Ji Jing’s eyes were wide with a mix of shock and dawning realization. “So, you’re the hidden master behind Guiqi Tower.” The memory of her at the Gong family banquet—quiet, sharp, and untouchable—was still fresh in his mind.
Bo Wang offered a sidelong glance, his eyes like chips of ice. Under Feng Zhen’s steady guidance, Lu Zhiling stepped forward, her smile professional yet radiating an undeniable warmth. “Mr. Bo, Mr. Ji, Miss Gong—would you prefer the privacy of a room upstairs, or shall we browse the collection first?”
She addressed all three, but her focus was an invisible tether pulled taut toward Bo Wang. The intimacy in her smile was unmistakable.
A flicker of dark satisfaction crossed Bo Wang’s face. He gestured toward a quiet corner. “There.”
The seat was far from the spotlight and bathed in shadows—hardly the choice for a serious collector. But these three hadn’t come for the antiques. Lu Zhiling began the tea ceremony, her “blind” movements fluid and mesmerizing as she handled the porcelain.
Ji Jing sat at the octagonal table, his chin resting in his hand as he watched her. “I swear I’ve seen you before, Boss Lu. The way you brew that tea… it’s hauntingly familiar.”
“Is it?” Zhiling replied calmly, placing the first cup before Bo Wang. “Perhaps I simply have a common face. Mr. Ji, please. This is pre-rain Longjing [Dragon Well tea—highly prized for its delicate, vegetal sweetness]. I hope it suits your palate.”
“You certainly don’t have a common face,” Ji Jing murmured, taking a sip.
Gong Zihua watched them, her expression souring. “Even blind, you haven’t lost your instinct for who to flatter first. You’re much more… worldly-wise than you were in school, Zhiling.”
Zhiling’s smile didn’t waver.
“Enough, Zihua,” Ji Jing frowned. “It was just a bracelet. Let it go.”
Gong Zihua looked ready to explode, but a glance at Bo Wang’s stony expression silenced her. She took a sip of her tea and muttered, “Tastes like ditch water compared to what we have at home.”
Ji Jing shook his head. “Don’t mind her. A classic case of Gongzhu Bing [Princess Syndrome—spoiled or narcissistic behavior].”
“It’s quite alright,” Zhiling replied with an easy magnanimity that made Ji Jing look at her with newfound respect. She wasn’t the desperate social climber Zihua had described; she was a woman who held her own ground.
The auction concluded with a flurry of successful bids. Feng Zhen announced the sell-out to a round of applause. Ji Jing nodded in approval. “Well done. These items were mediocre at best, but your arrangement made them feel like treasures. I’ll talk to the Ji family—we’ll send you some truly elite pieces for the next one.”
“I would be honored,” Zhiling replied.
“Satisfied with the tea, and even more satisfied with the company,” Ji Jing teased, falling back into his usual flirtatious banter.
Bo Wang, who had been a silent shadow against the wall, finally moved. He reached for his cup, the movement revealing the sandalwood beads on his wrist—one of which bore a deep, jagged tooth mark.
Gong Zihua’s face turned a sickly green. It was one thing to hear rumors of them sleeping together; it was another to see him wearing the very beads Lu Zhiling had purchased at the auction.
Pfft—Cough!
Ji Jing nearly choked on his tea. His eyes bulged as he stared at the beads, then at Zhiling, then at Bo Wang. “Brother Wang… you’re really…” He slid down the bench, his voice a trembling whisper. “You’re really sleeping with her?”
He realized it now. Bo Wang hadn’t come for the tea. He had come to mark his territory.
Bo Wang twirled the small purple-clay cup between his fingers, his thin lips curving into a dangerous half-smile. “Whether it’s real or not doesn’t matter, Ji Jing. What matters is that you are satisfied.”
“I’m a fool!” Ji Jing gasped, his soul practically fleeing his body. “I’m just a smart-aleck, Brother Wang! I’ve only seen her twice, and both times you were right there!”
“Then how many more times do you want,” Bo Wang asked, raising an eyebrow, “do you intend to see her more?”
“Never! Not once!” Ji Jing squeaked. He didn’t care if it was a passing fancy or true obsession; flirting with a woman Bo Wang had claimed was a death sentence. To save himself, he leaned in further. “Since we’re here, why don’t Zihua and I stay down here? You and Boss Lu should go upstairs… for a ‘seat’?”
Lu Zhiling’s hearing was sharp. She knew exactly what “seat” Ji Jing was implying. She felt a phantom heat against her ear and turned to Bo Wang. “I’ll go prepare some food.”
“No need, Boss Lu,” Ji Jing interrupted, acting the part of the wingman. “Brother Wang craves peace. Take him to your private lounge.”
Gong Zihua sneered. “You look like a pimp, Ji Jing.”
Ji Jing ignored her, sticking to Bo Wang like glue. “Just a quiet meal, right, Brother Wang?”
Bo Wang didn’t move. He placed his cup on the table and spun it with a flick of his finger. The porcelain hummed against the wood, the sound slowing like a countdown. He was waiting.
“Would Mr. Bo do me the honor?” Zhiling asked, her voice tinged with resignation.
A glint of triumph flashed in Bo Wang’s eyes. He stood up without a word.
In the second-floor lounge, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustle below. The room was small, secluded, and smelled of old ink and fresh tea. A large stack of documents sat on the desk—the weight of her secret labor.
“Why did you call me up here?” Bo Wang asked, his tone making it sound as if she were the aggressor.
“Didn’t you want to see me?” she countered softly. “You wouldn’t come without a reason.”
Bo Wang chuckled, pinching her chin and forcing her to look up. “So high and mighty? You think I’m at your beck and call?”
Zhiling stepped back. “I just think you have something to tell me.”
Bo Wang let her go and sank onto the sofa. He picked up a piece of cake from the table. “Your teahouse makes a pittance, yet you turn down 37 colored diamonds from Yu Yunfei?”
Zhiling wasn’t surprised. The Bo family had eyes in every shadow. “There is no free lunch in this world. If I take her jewelry, I take her orders.”
“She’s generous to those who serve her,” Bo Wang said, taking a bite of the cake. It was soft and sweet—infuriatingly like her.
“I won’t be a pawn in the Bo family’s wars,” she replied. “My only value to her is my connection to you. Whether she wants an ally or a spy, I won’t let you be the one who pays the price.”
Bo Wang laughed, a dry, sarcastic sound. “I won’t give you 37 diamonds bracelet, Zhiling.”
“I don’t want them. I’m content just to have met you,” she said, the lie rolling off her tongue with practiced ease. “Even 3,700 diamonds wouldn’t buy my betrayal.”
Bo Wang’s gaze darkened, becoming an unfathomable abyss. He pulled her close, his voice a low growl. “Then I’ll wait to see if this ‘contentment’ of yours is truly free.”
Suddenly, a roar of anger erupted from downstairs.
“Call the owner! This collection is a fraud!” “Fakes! You sold us fakes!”
Jiang Fusheng burst through the door, her face pale. “Zhiling! At least half the buyers are claiming the collection is counterfeit!”
Lu Zhiling pulled away from Bo Wang’s grip. “I’ll go.” She turned back to Bo Wang, her voice maternal and calm. “Rest here. Have Fusheng get you whatever you need.”
“Are you instructing a child?” Bo Wang snapped, his ego bruised by her tone.
Zhiling smiled. “Isn’t it good to be pampered like one?”
Bo Wang’s hand froze mid-air, a piece of cake halfway to his mouth. Who the hell wants to be a child?
Downstairs was a battlefield. A mob surrounded Feng Zhen, demanding blood and compensation. Gong Zihua and Ji Jing stood at the periphery, Zihua’s eyes dancing with malicious glee.
“It seems the Ji family misjudged,” Zihua mocked.
Ji Jing’s brow was furrowed. The reputation of the Ji Auction House was on the line. If Lu Zhiling had used them to pedal fakes, even Bo Wang might not be able to save her from the Ji family’s wrath.
Lu Zhiling stepped into the fray, her voice a calm anchor in the storm. “I am the owner. I will give you an explanation.”
“An explanation?” a man shouted, thrusting a porcelain plate forward. “A ‘Xuanhua’ era jade plate? Look at the bottom!”
Gong Zihua stepped in, snatching the plate. “Wait, Lu Zhiling… this is too much.” She flipped the plate over. The base was as smooth and blank as a fresh sheet of paper. “This is supposed to be tribute porcelain. It always has a reign mark. You didn’t even try to forge a convincing fake.”
The crowd erupted. The roof seemed ready to buckle under the noise.
“It’s a crude counterfeit,” Zhiling admitted, touching the smooth base of the plate with a faint smile.
Ji Jing’s face was stone. “Boss Lu, how do you explain this?”
“Pay us back! This is a scam!” the mob screamed.
“We can’t call the police,” Zhiling said firmly.
Gong Zihua laughed. “Afraid of the truth?”
Zhiling turned to Ji Jing. “Mr. Ji, a word in private?”
“No!” the crowd roared. “She’s going to switch the evidence!”
Ji Jing looked at the chaotic room, then at the blind girl standing in the center of it. “Ms. Lu, if you have something to say, say it here. In front of everyone.”