Chapter Thirty-Five: The First Auction

“By the way, let me introduce you all,” Yang Xiaofan said, taking hold of Qin Nuanyu’s hand. “This is my girlfriend, Qin Nuanyu.”

With a faint blush on her cheeks, Qin Nuanyu nodded politely to everyone. “Hello.”

“Hehehe... Hello! No wonder that night, Master Yang was willing to stand up for a beauty—so it was because you’re his girlfriend.”

Yang Xiaofan could only smile wryly.

“This is President Liu—you saw him at the KTV the other day. And this is Master Ma, a highly respected figure in the world of traditional Chinese painting.”

Finally, Yang Xiaofan turned to introduce Mu Shuyu. “And this is President Mu, the CEO of the Mu Group. She was the first customer to ever purchase one of my paintings. You could say she’s been a guide on my professional path.”

Mu Shuyu gave a slight, reserved smile. “You flatter me. The most important thing is your own talent as an artist. I merely offered a little help.”

Liu Hu and Master Ma didn’t particularly draw Qin Nuanyu’s attention. What she cared about was Mu Shuyu.

This woman was simply captivating. Dressed in a professional business suit, her figure was perfectly accentuated. Her long legs, clad in sheer stockings, were enough to make any man’s heart race. The five-centimeter heels she wore only enhanced her commanding, queenly aura.

Standing before her, even Qin Nuanyu, a campus beauty in her own right, found her confidence fading. This was a dangerous woman. Instinctively, Qin Nuanyu marked her as a major threat. If Mu Shuyu ever tried to take Yang Xiaofan from her, she might not be able to compete.

Unlike Qin Nuanyu, however, Yang Xiaofan’s attention was drawn to a figure standing beside Mu Shuyu—a balding, middle-aged man.

“Well, well, look who it is! Isn’t this Li Dacheng, Manager Li with his thirty-thousand-a-month salary?”

Li Dacheng clearly recognized Yang Xiaofan as well, his expression turning deathly pale. He had tried to impress Qin Nuanyu at Cartier, thinking Yang Xiaofan was penniless, but to run into Yang Xiaofan here—what rotten luck.

Mu Shuyu looked surprised. “Xiaofan, you know him?”

“Of course I do. Sister Shuyu, your group’s Manager here is quite something. He tried to flirt with my girlfriend in the store, thinking his thirty-thousand-a-month salary was impressive. I assure you, the impression he left on me is unforgettable.”

Li Dacheng’s face turned ashen, and he immediately begged for mercy. “President Mu, I was wrong, I...”

But Mu Shuyu’s face was icy as she cut him off. “That’s enough. No more excuses. Collect your salary for this month and get out of the Mu Group. I don’t want to see you again.”

“I... I... ah!” Li Dacheng let out a heavy sigh, hanging his head in dejection as he left. But before he departed, his eyes fixed on Yang Xiaofan with burning resentment.

“All right, it’s time. Many guests are waiting—let’s begin,” Gu Hao interjected, drawing everyone’s attention back to the auction.

Yang Xiaofan and his companions took their seats in a private box upstairs. From their vantage point, they could see the entire auction hall below.

Soon, an auctioneer appeared at the podium, followed by an attendant carrying an exquisite landscape painting.

Towering peaks overlapped, the mountains gathering in grandeur; below, the river rushed swiftly, a great boat plunging through the waters. Though only a painting, it seemed almost alive with its vivid atmosphere. The entire scene exuded vitality, and those who gazed upon it felt as though their spirits were being drawn into the world within the frame.

As the painting was unveiled, the wealthy guests below burst into animated discussion.

“This painting is truly a stroke of genius.”

“There are probably only a handful of people in all of China capable of producing a work of this caliber.”

“I must have it for my collection.”

Nearly every affluent guest present was a true enthusiast of art collecting—after all, why else would they come specifically for Yang Xiaofan’s auction?

With their keen eyes, it took only a glance for them to recognize the extraordinary quality of this painting and its immense potential for appreciation in value.

The expressions of the crowd satisfied the auctioneer, who smiled slightly, tapped his gavel, cleared his throat, and announced, “Today marks the grand opening of our auction house, and our very first lot is a masterpiece by Master Yang—an heirloom to last the ages! The ‘Swift River Boat’ starts at two million yuan, with each bid increment no less than five hundred thousand. The auction begins now.”

Qin Nuanyu gasped softly. It was just a painting, yet the starting price was two million, with each bid required to rise by at least five hundred thousand!

No wonder Yang Xiaofan spent money so freely—his casual sketches fetched astronomical sums.

But then the bidding started, utterly shattering Qin Nuanyu’s sense of reality.

“Two million.”

“Two and a half million.”

“Three million.”

“Four million.”

The price soared rapidly. Within minutes, it had exceeded ten million.

Finally, at twenty-four million, the painting was won by a wealthy collector.

Twenty-four million for a single painting!

Clutching Yang Xiaofan’s hand tightly, Qin Nuanyu swallowed hard and whispered, “Xiaofan, how long does it take you to paint something like this?”

Yang Xiaofan scratched his head. “Two or three minutes, I suppose. Why?”

“Two... two or three minutes?” Qin Nuanyu’s face twitched uncontrollably.

Was he joking? Two or three minutes to create a work of such caliber, and each could sell for over twenty million?

If Yang Xiaofan painted for just an hour a day, that would be twenty or thirty paintings—each fetching twenty million, making hundreds of millions. Even a bank’s printing press couldn’t match his earning speed.

Seeing her flushed cheeks and quickened breath, Yang Xiaofan asked with concern, “Nuanyu, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, just... my blood pressure feels a bit high.”

Yang Xiaofan could only laugh helplessly; he could already guess what she was thinking.

“You don’t need to be so shocked,” he explained gently. “It’s not that easy to reach those numbers. First, there’s the market—no matter how good the painting, someone must recognize its value and be willing to buy. How many people in the world can afford works at this price? Without buyers, it doesn’t matter how fast or how much I paint.

Second, even if there are buyers, I can’t sell in bulk. Rarity creates value. If I sold only a few paintings a day, wealthy collectors would compete to pay top dollar. But if I sold a hundred or a thousand a day, who would still pay millions for one?”

Qin Nuanyu nodded. Yang Xiaofan’s rational analysis cooled her excitement somewhat.

He was right, after all. Paintings aren’t necessities like food. Their value comes from their rarity and collectability.

Even so, the prospect was still impressive. If just a handful of his paintings sold for millions each, it was an enormous fortune.

Thinking this, Qin Nuanyu suddenly felt a pang of inferiority. She glanced at Yang Xiaofan beside her, her eyes growing uncertain.

A man like Yang Xiaofan—handsome, capable of making vast sums, and gifted with so many talents—shone like a star.

Was she truly worthy of a man like this?

She had always strived for perfection and worked hard to better herself, but before Yang Xiaofan, for the first time in her life, she felt defeated.

It was as if she were a tiny ant at the foot of Mount Tai, gazing up at the sky, seeing only drifting clouds and never the summit—let alone daring to climb it.