Chapter Ten: Two Names-Treasure Display(Flowers Hidden Beneath the Sea)

Mengya nodded, turned on the monitor by the door, and we saw on the screen that there was no one outside. Only a black package sat on the ground, with a courier slip attached. Only then did I tell her to open the door and bring the package in. She handed it to me. I examined it—it was about the size of a shoebox, but there was no sender information on it.

I fetched a small fruit knife from the kitchen, sliced open the tape, and peeled back the black wrapping. Inside was an auction catalog from a certain auction house. The cover featured a Kangxi period blue-and-white polychrome “Three March Peach Blossom” cup, with the preview dates set for the following two days. There was also an invitation letter included.

“Mr. Qiu Tong, Greetings. *** Auction House invites you to attend our grand autumn auction at the Beijing International Hotel Conference Center.”

I glanced at the invitation before setting both it and the book aside. Mengya let out a long breath. “I thought it was someone important, but it’s just someone delivering an auction catalog.”

She sat down on the bed, took off her clothes, and looked straight at me. I smiled at her and said, “What’s with that look? Staring at me like a resentful wife.”

She replied irritably, “I was in a good mood until we got interrupted. Now it’s all gone.”

I walked over, wrapped my arms around her. “A good meal is worth waiting for.”

She slapped me, but then lay down on the bed with me.

The next morning, I was deep in sleep when Mengya woke me up.

“Hey, get up. Didn’t you say last night you wanted to go see the *** auction preview at the International Hotel?”

I squinted at her, still groggy. “I don’t feel like going anymore. You wore me out last night. I’m totally exhausted.”

She spat at me, “Look at you, enjoying the benefits and still complaining.”

I sat up, stretched, got dressed, and made the bed. We ate a simple breakfast, then Mengya drove us toward Jianguomen.

The road from Shilihe to Jianguomen was terribly congested. We left at a quarter past eight and didn’t arrive at the Beijing International Hotel Conference Center until nearly ten. After parking, we made our way inside and took the elevator to the second-floor exhibition hall. As we stepped out, we heard a commotion outside.

“You’re all swindlers! You stole my item and now you’re stalling? If you don’t return my property, I’ll make a scene and let everyone in the trade know what kind of company you really are.”

“Damn it, stop making a fuss here. I told you we’d resolve it after the auction. Or are you trying to ruin the entire auction for us? If you don’t leave, I’ll call security.”

The argument was heated, drawing a crowd. I approached and saw a plainly dressed, middle-aged man sitting on the ground. Opposite him stood a slightly overweight, small-eyed man in a suit—they were hurling insults at each other.

As I approached, the fat man noticed us and hurried over. “Master Qiu, you’re here! Sorry, I got caught up in this trivial matter and couldn’t greet you properly.”

I waved him off. “Mr. Wang, what’s going on here? Are you playing the part of General Ma Chao or losing at Maicheng? You look like you’d be perfect for a painted-face role in the opera.”

Mr. Wang sighed at my teasing. “It’s just a little dispute over an item. I was trying to discuss things with this colleague here.”

He hadn’t finished when the middle-aged man jumped up. “Dispute? This is outright fraud!” He turned to me. “You’re Mr. Qiu Tong, head of Autumn White Hall, aren’t you? I’ve heard a lot about you. Let me tell you what happened—they’re all crooks, each with two IDs and two names. Here’s how it started six months ago…”

He was about to continue when Mr. Wang shouted and kicked the man beside me to the ground, raising his fist to strike. I stopped him, and he lowered his arm. I shot him a glare and helped the man up.

Brushing the dust from his clothes, I said, “Brother, have a seat over there and tell me what happened.”

Mr. Wang sidled over as well. I shot him another look. “Mengya, are you thirsty?” Then to Mr. Wang: “My assistant needs a drink, Mr. Wang. Could you please take her over for some tea? I’ll join you at the auction preview shortly.”

Looking embarrassed, Mr. Wang nodded and led Mengya to the tea corner.

I turned back to the middle-aged man, smiling. “Go on, brother.”

He sighed. “I’m in the porcelain and curios business. Last March, I signed an auction contract with their manager, Luo Maosheng. He took a Southern Song celadon three-hole vase from me.”

I nodded, thinking that was no cheap item—worth at least a million.

“A few days later, Luo Maosheng called, saying someone wanted the vase and urged me to withdraw it from auction. I refused, figuring auctioning would yield more profit. But he kept calling every day, and after much persuasion—he promised there’d be no issues and payment would come in two days—I agreed to withdraw after eight days.”

I nodded. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Did he pay you in the end?”

“If he had, would I be making a scene here today? After I agreed, he took the contract, checked the vase, wrote me an IOU, and took the vase to show the client. Since then, the vase disappeared, and so did the money. Over twenty days later, he called to say con artists had swindled the vase from him.”

Surprised, I gestured for him to continue.

“Later he said he’d reported it to the police and they’d try to recover it. I’ve waited over a year, but nothing. Yesterday I went to their company to confront Chairman Wang Shijian. He wrote me a note, calling me a ‘disputant’ with their manager, and refused to sign his real name. He even made me tear up the IOU. Tell me—isn’t this blatant bullying by a big company?”

I nodded. “Brother, do you still have the IOUs?”

He pulled two IOUs from his chest pocket and handed them to me. The first read:

‘Received one Southern Song celadon three-hole vase, height 12.9 cm. (Originally consigned to *** Auction House, later withdrawn, contract number …) Taken on consignment for sale. Reserve price: 1.5 million yuan. Luo Maosheng.’

The second read:

I frowned and looked at the man. “What’s this about?”

“The first was for me, the second for Mr. Wang. I guess he wanted to pocket the difference.”

I nodded just as a long-haired, middle-aged man emerged from the hall and approached.

“Master Qiu, our President Wang asked me to escort you to the preview.”

I glanced at him. He wore a suit, had long hair, small eyes, a big nose, a crooked smile, and prominent front teeth—a thoroughly shifty appearance. I was sorely tempted to punch him.

Before I could stand, the middle-aged man leapt up, grabbing the shifty man by the collar. “Luo Maosheng, you bastard!” He raised a fist to strike.

I stepped in, shielding Luo Maosheng. “Brother, do me a favor today. Go home for now—I think they’ll give you an explanation.”

After a moment’s thought, the man nodded. “Alright, for your sake, Master Qiu, I’ll trust you one more time.” With that, he headed to the elevator and left the Beijing International Hotel.

Once he was gone, Luo Qingyun sidled up with a sycophantic grin. “Thank you, Master Qiu, for stepping in. This way, please.”

I ignored him and walked over to the tea table. “Mengya, how was your drink?”

She nodded. “I was about to float away, waiting so long. What were you talking about?”

I didn’t answer, instead glancing at Luo Qingyun, who was still grinning lewdly. “Miss Mengya, you’re truly beautiful.”

“Mr. Luo, you don’t need to attend to us. Go look after your other clients. We don’t need anything.” With that, I took Mengya’s hand and headed for the central exhibition hall.

The main hall was tastefully arranged. The central area was covered in turf, with a pair of rosewood tea tables placed on the grass. Atop them sat two very distinctive Iwakawa juniper bonsais. The one on the left stood about sixty or seventy centimeters tall, its trunk half-withered as if struck by lightning, but with new shoots sprouting from behind—an unusual sight. The right-hand bonsai was completely different: two massive branches extended from the base, each topped with balls of needle-like leaves, giving a fresh, vibrant look.

Mengya and I admired the bonsai when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see a middle-aged man in a suit, with a crew cut and glasses, scholarly in appearance.

“Master Qiu, you’re here early.”

It was Qi Liye, another manager in the ceramics and curios department at *** Auction House.

“Master Qiu, you’ve taken a liking to these two trees? Let me introduce them. The one on the left is an Iwakawa juniper ‘literati tree.’ See how tall and straight it stands, despite severe damage? It’s a symbol of the integrity of ancient Chinese literati—that’s why it’s called a ‘literati tree.’”

I nodded and he continued.

“The other juniper is called ‘Double Dragons Parting the Waters.’ The base, set against green moss, resembles two dragons emerging from the water. The two trunks grow from the dragon heads, hence the name.”

After his explanation, I found the two Iwakawa juniper bonsais fascinating. I checked the price tags:

Iwakawa juniper bonsai, literati tree, over eighty-five years old, price: 50,000 yuan.

Iwakawa juniper bonsai, Double Dragons Parting the Waters, over 120 years old, price: 110,000 yuan.

I looked at Qi Liye. “Any chance you could give me a better price?”

Qi Liye smiled. “If you want both, Master Qiu, I can offer you the sellers’ reserve price. Both for 120,000 yuan. Of course, the company will charge a ten percent commission.”

I nodded my agreement, and Qi Liye called over an attendant to arrange for the two bonsais to be delivered to my home.

We wandered around a bit more with him. I asked, “Liye, what’s going on with Luo Qingyun in your department? Why is everything such a mess?”