He couldn’t answer. At least, not at this very moment.

A question like this could fuel an entire dissertation—how was he supposed to sum it up in just a few words?

Lin Congzhi swallowed. In the mirror, he didn’t even dare let his Adam’s apple move too noticeably. Fortunately, he did his best to compose himself. He knew Xiao Jingwen fairly well: normally remarkably even-tempered, but prone to intermittent bursts of chaotic intensity.

And those chaotic moments almost always revolved around Lin Congzhi.

He forced himself to calm down. It’s fine. At the very least, he was certain Xiao Jingwen wouldn’t charge him for any damage. He closed his eyes, pulled his right hand from Xiao Jingwen’s grip, and carefully reached up to lift the tiara off his head.

“You’re feeling lost,” Lin Congzhi said.

“Yes,” Xiao Jingwen replied, his eyes still fixed on the mirror. “I’m starting to lose my way.”

Lin Congzhi looked down at the crown resting in his hands. Fine jewelry was something meant to be observed with the naked eye. Photos and videos flattened its brilliance, while paintings inevitably injected the artist’s subjective emotions.

“It’s stunning,” Lin Congzhi murmured, running his thumb over the largest pear-cut yellow diamond on the piece. “Your life must feel incredibly split. Your rational side tells you to be a pure businessman—one who discards all useless emotion. But inside…”

Perhaps the warehouse oxygen levels were turned down low, or maybe the overwhelming concentration of fine art was triggering Stendhal syndrome; Lin Congzhi felt his heart racing, his mind dazed by the intense visual stimulation.

Xiao Jingwen picked up where he left off: “Inside, there are too many lots. If I want one to fetch a high price, I have to hide away its nearly identical counterparts. I create scarcity. But only I know it’s all just capital manipulation. For instance, if I promise a buyer or seller that no second Blue Dragon Jar will appear on the market for ten years, it won’t.”

Lin Congzhi sighed, staring back down at the heavy crown in his hands. Humans are complex creatures. They relentlessly chase after something, only to gain it and begin questioning whether it was what they truly wanted all along.

Lin Congzhi raised his eyes, meeting Xiao Jingwen’s gaze in the mirror. “This question is too hard.”

“I know.”

Lin Congzhi handed the tiara back to him, then unclasped the neck fastener, handing the exquisite necklace back as well. “This isn’t something you should be torturing yourself over. But if you really want an answer, I can try to help you figure it out. I just need some time.”

He glanced around the warehouse again. This was only one section—who knew how much more was hidden just around the corner?

It wasn’t that Lin Congzhi lacked exposure to wealth; his shock stemmed from the reality of their current state—these treasures were effectively sitting here, completely valueless.

He could faintly understand how Xiao Jingwen felt. Had Xiao Jingwen never met him, these objects to a businessman would be nothing more than inventory—exquisite, beautiful inventory, yet less practical than cargo sitting in shipping containers at a dock.

At the thought of this, a sudden sense of responsibility washed over him. The powerful CEO standing before him was suffering precisely because of him.

He brooded for about two and a half seconds before breaking the silence. “I’m going out for a smoke.”

“Go ahead.” Xiao Jingwen took a step back, making room for him.

Stepping out of the warehouse, Lin Congzhi took a few deep breaths, finally letting out a long sigh of relief. He turned back to Xiao Jingwen. “Don’t play this kind of joke on me again. You put hundreds of millions on my head and neck—I couldn’t pay for that if I auctioned off my life.”

He desperately needed a cigarette to settle his nerves. “Where’s your smoking area?”

Xiao Jingwen pressed the elevator button. “There isn’t one.”

“…” Lin Congzhi paused. “Alright then.”

“The entire Gleam building is non-smoking. But you’re exempt. Go ahead.”

Since the CEO gave his seal of approval, he wasn’t about to polite himself out of it—though smoking in the elevator was still out of the question. Returning to the auction floor, Lin Congzhi walked over to a window in the corridor.

In high-rise office buildings, windows rarely opened wide, and some were sealed entirely. He gave it a push, opening a small gap about the size of a fist. That was enough.

Outside, rain lashed against the glass amidst muffled thunder.

Xiao Jingwen watched him from a polite distance. Lin Congzhi finally understood the internet phrase about ‘the hand holding the cigarette trembling slightly’—his hand was genuinely shaking. He had seen plenty of art exhibitions and played with Lin Lingyu’s priceless jewelry as a child (later using it for still-life sketches as an adult).

Yet the presence and tactile feel of antique jewelry were entirely different—it carried an indescribable, heavy gravity.

The cool breeze seeped through the window gap, brushing against his face. He felt much better, the rainy air clearing his mind. He stubbed out the cigarette, tossed it into the trash can, and lingered by the window to let the smell disperse before walking back.

Xiao Jingwen used to tell him constantly to ‘smoke less’ and ‘drink less.’ Lin Congzhi wasn’t ungrateful, but whenever he hit a wall with his painting, a cigarette was his only outlet. After being nagged by Xiao Jingwen, he had switched to coffee to stimulate his central nervous system—which ended up keeping him awake for days at a time.

“I’m heading inside,” Lin Congzhi said.

“Okay,” Xiao Jingwen nodded.

The auction was divided into different sessions based on item categories, and this hall was dedicated to calligraphy and paintings.

The first piece was by Caravaggio—a painter rumored to never use draft sketches, applying color directly to the canvas. Because he rarely signed or dated his works, verifying authenticity required extreme caution.

The lot was one of his still-life paintings. In an era dominated by religious themes, choosing to paint a simple set of still objects often invited ridicule from peers. Yet it did not stop him from becoming one of the most brilliant artists of his time.

Bidders began raising their paddles.

Due to various factors, most buyers participated via phone proxies, while actual buyers rarely attended in person. The floor was sparse. Once the auctioneer announced the lot and starting bid, the proxies around Lin Congzhi began whispering into their phones to consult their bosses.

The phone proxies kept their voices low, raising their bidder paddles with one hand while holding their phones with the other. The auctioneer called out bidders and prices with crisp, practiced precision.

Lin Congzhi sat next to Zhang Miao, gazing at the scanned oil painting displayed on the main screen.

Many of Caravaggio’s works featured elements of decay—shriveled oranges or apples on the verge of rotting. Scholars believed this forced viewers to picture the objects in their vibrant, healthy prime.

It was much like how ‘regret’ always leaves an indelible mark. A faint smile touched Lin Congzhi’s lips.

“Huh?” Zhang Miao suddenly felt something catch the light, exclaiming in quiet delight.

Lin Congzhi assumed her surprise was about the painting. “Right? He loved painting plants right at the peak of overflowing—like a pot of stew boiling over…”

“No,” Zhang Miao shifted from delight to utter shock. “That ring on your hand…”

“Hmm?” Lin Congzhi looked down at where she was pointing. “Wait… huh?!“

He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, then realized his mistake and used it to cover his hand instead.

“Where did that come from?!” Zhang Miao lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “Holy crap, that has to be at least ten carats! Did Xiao Jingwen just propose to you? Wait, proposing on the index finger? What kind of statement is that?”

The tiara and necklace had been so overwhelmingly grand that he had completely forgotten he was still wearing an antique gemstone ring. As he covered it, his palm could clearly feel the sharp facets of the gem and the surrounding pavé diamonds—

What if a diamond drops off?!

Lin Congzhi quickly composed himself. “Just now… Xiao Jingwen took me to their warehouse. He took this ring out and put it on my hand, and I forgot to take it off.”

Zhang Miao’s lips twitched as she gave a dry laugh. “Haha, wow, that makes complete sense.”

To be fair, who would believe a story like that?

Lin Congzhi whipped his head around to check the entrance. Security guards, cameramen, and staff members lined the outer perimeter, but Xiao Jingwen was nowhere to be seen. It made sense—the summer auction sessions were running back-to-back, so he was likely tied up.

“What do I do?” Lin Congzhi started to panic. “Do you have a jewelry box or something in your bag? Let me put it away.”

“Don’t you dare! My lord, I wouldn’t dare put something like that in my bag,” Zhang Miao instantly clutched her purse to her chest. “If you break or lose it, you can sacrifice your body to pay off the debt. But if it breaks in my hands, my only option is jumping into the sea! Have mercy on me!”

Lin Congzhi was struck speechless, staring at her in disbelief. Zhang Miao stared back with absolute resolve; if seat assignments weren’t strictly enforced, she would have already moved to the far end of the row to pretend she didn’t know him.

“Then what about my…”

“Take it off and slip it into your pocket,” Zhang Miao suggested.

“What if it falls out?”

“True…” Zhang Miao paused. “Then flip the gemstone inward toward your palm. Don’t flash it around like that—the glare almost blinded me just now.”

Lin Congzhi thought that made sense and did as suggested, only to wince: “Ow… that really pricks my palm.”

“…” Zhang Miao stared at him in utter silence.

Both of them sighed. The jeweler who crafted the ring centuries ago certainly never anticipated someone wearing it upside down.

For the remainder of the auction, Lin Congzhi lost all interest in the items on screen. Even when his own painting sold for 410,000 RMB at the drop of the hammer, he felt no wave of emotion.

Finally, with the auctioneer’s warm smile—”Sold! Congratulations to lady bidder 8072!”—this session officially concluded. The audience applauded the proxy for bidder 8072, save for one person sitting motionlessly with crossed hands.

The doors swung open. Next door was Gleam’s refreshment lounge, where guests could relax during the intermission.

Lin Congzhi stood up immediately, thrusting his right hand into his pocket, trying his best to look calm and effortlessly cool as he walked out. He needed to track down Xiao Jingwen and return the ring…

His call wouldn’t go through—Xiao Jingwen’s line was busy, and his WeChat messages went unanswered.

He couldn’t just wander around the entire building with one hand jammed in his pocket… Lin Congzhi was growing desperate. Luckily, he ran into one of Xiao Jingwen’s secretaries in the corridor on this floor.

“Excuse me, hi.”

“Hello, Mr. Lin,” she replied with a flawless professional smile—a top-tier secretary capable of remembering every person linked to her boss. “Do you need any assistance?”

“I do.”

“Please, go ahead.”

Wearing the ring felt like holding a live directional landmine. Lin Congzhi blurted out haphazardly, “I need Xiao Jingwen.”

“…” The secretary maintained her polished smile, though a subtle flash of delight sparkled in her eyes, making her smile curve just a bit wider.

“Not that kind of need,” Lin Congzhi realized how ambiguous his words sounded, but the more he tried to explain, the worse it got. He bit his lower lip. “I mean, I really need him.”

Secretary: “…I understand.”

Lin Congzhi: “It’s urgent.”

Secretary (smiling): “Please wait a moment. I’ll ask the manager for you.”

…Could you please not smile so eerily? Lin Congzhi thought to himself.