Chapter 488 — The Second Fragment Appears

The notes in the catalogue describing the fragment were sparse, and the lines of the map drawn upon it were indistinct, so no one could tell what the thing was actually for. Call it an antique, and there was no appraisal certificate to back it up — not even a date of manufacture! Call it not an antique, and the catalogue still never explained what use the object might have. It was much like the hand-drawn maps bandits in the old days used to find their way up into the mountains — and a fragment of one, at that!

A thing like this had no real value at all. Sell it in the antique market to someone who did not know better, and it might pass; put it up at an auction, though, and it looked rather out of place.

Still, auctions have always drawn their share of oddities. Many of them went unsold in the end, but every year there were always a few of them.

In truth, even the auctioneer had no idea what this fragment was, and so he offered no introduction at all. He merely recited the line from the catalogue: this was a curious map on a roll of sheepskin parchment. It might be a treasure map to some great hoard!

Of course, he said it *might* be. The world was full of might-bes — walk down any street and you might trip over a million yuan. Nobody was going to believe such a wild notion.

These scions of the great families, these wealthy merchants — none of them were fools. They came to the auction for things that would be of use to them, and for things they neither needed nor wanted, they could not be bothered to bid.

An auction is not a vegetable market. Bid on something you do not want, and you must still buy it in the end; you cannot simply take it back. So for this worthless fragment, not a single person called out a price.

The auctioneer had seen this sort of thing before. Plenty of lots went unsold; one more would hardly matter. He cleared his throat. "Lot number three, a map on a roll of sheepskin parchment. Does anyone wish to bid?"

"Ha — a hundred and ten thousand!" Fatty Lai raised the paddle in his hand. "Who knows, this thing might really lead to a treasure! I'll buy it and have a look into it myself!"

Fatty Lai's words drew a great many looks of doubt and disdain. Find a treasure by means of a torn, broken map like that? Pigs would fly first. And Fatty Lai looked for all the world like some rich man newly come into his fortune. Those who knew him were baffled — Fatty Lai was a shrewd fellow, so what was he doing buying such rubbish? Was he after a bit of attention? Those who did not know him simply thought he had more money than he knew what to do with, and was a fool besides.

"A hundred and ten thousand — the gentleman with paddle number one hundred eighty-three bids a hundred and ten thousand. Will anyone offer more?" The auctioneer was somewhat taken aback, but a bid was a bid, and welcome enough, even at a mere hundred and ten thousand. Still, twenty percent of it was the auction house's commission. Small as a mosquito is, it is still meat.

"A hundred and ten thousand, going once... going twice..." The auctioneer scanned the room, hoping someone might push the price a little higher. Sadly, no one raised the bid.

These sons of the great houses were no fools. They would never bid on a useless thing — and all the more so when doing so might well earn them an enemy among the bidders. Everyone who came to such an auction put profit first; no one cared to do harm to others for no gain of their own.

If a thing was of no use to them, they simply stayed out of it and left it to those who could use it. But if it was of use, then they would fight over it tooth and nail, red in the face. Purely mischievous bidding, though, was a rare sight — unless two men already bore each other a grudge.

In a corner of the hall, a man's expression tightened visibly at the sound of a bid. He spoke into the microphone at his lips: "Second Uncle, should I raise the price?"

"The other party seems cautious as well. Hard to say whether he truly wants it or not." A middle-aged man's voice came through the earpiece. "Put in a token increase of ten or twenty thousand and see."

"Understood!" the man answered. Just as the auctioneer said, "A hundred and ten thousand, going thrice," he raised his paddle. "A hundred and twenty thousand!"

"Oh? Then this must be a fine thing after all — I'd better not let it go!" Fatty Lai shot the bidder a look of some surprise. Without waiting for the auctioneer to speak, he rose to his feet. "A hundred and twenty-five thousand!"

"Huh?" Everyone in the hall was taken aback. At first, seeing that someone had bid, they had wondered whether the sheepskin scroll might really be something worthwhile. But Fatty Lai's words made it quietly plain to them: the way he was bidding showed that he was not set on having the thing at all. Otherwise, who would bid like that? It was practically thuggish.

For an item with a reserve of a hundred thousand, the minimum increment was five thousand, yet few ever bid in such a manner. Most added ten thousand at a time. Fatty Lai's way of bidding could only mean that he did not particularly care whether he got the thing or not. If someone contended with him, he would put in a token raise; if the other party went too high, he would simply let it go.

So no one else had any interest in joining in. To join now would be to make an enemy. They would just watch the two of them put on their show.

"Second Uncle, what does he mean by that?" the man with the paddle asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"Hard to say. Raise it another five thousand and see. If he goes higher, give it up," said the middle-aged man.

"A hundred and thirty thousand!" The man raised his paddle.

"A hundred and thirty-five thousand!" Fatty Lai gave his ample backside a twist and lifted his paddle.

"Withdraw!" said the middle-aged man. "Have someone look into his background!"

"Yes, sir." With that, the man raised his paddle no more.

"One hundred and thirty-five thousand, going once; one hundred and thirty-five thousand, going twice; one hundred and thirty-five thousand, going three times — sold!" The auctioneer brought down his hammer, and those who had hoped for some spectacle were left rather disappointed.

The man who had bid against Fatty Lai earlier had plainly been calling out for amusement, with no real intention of buying. Fatty Lai, one could surmise, had much the same idea — bidding for fun.

So no one imagined the fragment of a map could be anything of value. And seeing that after Fatty Lai's winning bid there was not the slightest look of delight on his face, they were all the more certain he had merely been playing along, not bent on securing the thing at any cost.

"Congratulations to the gentleman with paddle number one hundred and eighty-three, who has won this sheepskin scroll for one hundred and thirty-five thousand. A member of our staff will contact you shortly to discuss the arrangements for delivery." With that, the auctioneer went on to introduce the next lot.

Fatty Lai had bought a sheepskin scroll — a trifle, no more — and not a soul paid him any further attention. No one, that is, except the man who had bid against him before...