17. Reached an Agreement

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Guan Xiaosheng pondered deeply, sensing that this young man was no ordinary youth. Judging by his attitude toward such a precious silk fabric and his ability to appraise antique furniture, he possessed a profound appreciation and considerable experience. Both qualities required extensive exposure to cultural relics—something far beyond the reach of a typical rural boy.

In the world of antiques, once you’ve seen enough, distinguishing genuine from fake often becomes an instantaneous judgment. Was he really here just to sell armor? It seemed more like he was testing the waters. He must have even finer treasures in his possession. For someone not yet twenty to have such expertise, who had nurtured him? What was his background? Could today’s encounter be a probe from the people behind him, aiming to establish a partnership with Baoli? If this contact proved unsatisfactory, might they turn instead to Liulichang or Jiade, two firms no less reputable than Baoli?

After weighing these possibilities repeatedly, Guan Xiaosheng concluded it was best to be straightforward. If you want to forge a relationship, honesty is the least you owe. “Brother, although this is our first meeting, I feel a strong connection with you. Just call me Brother Guan.”

“All right, Brother Guan,” Yang Fan replied.

“To be frank, Qing dynasty armor is abundant. Weapons are a niche market with few buyers. After all, the Qing era isn’t that distant, and provincial museums and private collectors have many pieces. The highest auction price might reach four or five hundred thousand yuan, and there’s even a chance it could fail to sell.”

Yang Fan listened quietly. Guan’s tone was cautious, showing respect—an auspicious start. So much in life hinges on how things begin.

“However, since we hit it off, I’m willing to purchase this set of armor outright—for five hundred thousand,” Guan said thoughtfully. Establishing rapport first, offering some benefit, then making a request—this way it’s harder to refuse.

“Brother Guan, you’d hardly make a profit this way. It’s too much of a loss for you. I don’t want to receive anything undeserved. Let’s stick to the normal auction process,” Yang Fan declined, though he was quite pleased by the price—he hadn’t expected the armor to be worth that much.

“Brother, to be honest, there’s an auction three days from now that’s crucial for our company, but we lack a standout finale piece. This Dharani banner is perfect for that role. Would you be willing to part with it? We can offer you half the usual commission,” Guan said earnestly.

Yang Fan hadn’t anticipated this. Sometimes, flowers you cultivate don’t bloom, while willows you plant by accident grow lush. The truly valuable item was this tattered cloth—a mere scrap in his eyes.

He mulled over his response, falling silent for a moment. Guan noticed the reluctant expression on his face—he clearly wasn’t eager to part with it. His heart grew more anxious.

Yang Fan understood that Guan’s frankness stemmed from a genuine need to use this rag as showpiece. Agreeing would mean granting a personal favor—an investment that might prove invaluable later. He would need Baoli’s help in many future dealings; this was a worthwhile investment.

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Since he was about to grant a favor, he couldn’t agree too quickly or the value of the favor would diminish. The harder it was to grant, the more precious the favor.

“Guan, if the decision were mine alone, I’d let you have it. But…” Yang Fan’s face showed hesitation, leaving the rest unsaid.

Everyone in the room exchanged knowing looks—this young man’s background was indeed not simple.

“May I take some time to discuss it? The auction is in three days, right? I’ll give you my answer tonight,” Yang Fan proposed cautiously.

“No problem. Brother Yang, I trust you. I’ll await your good news,” Guan said cheerfully, knowing that pressing him now would be counterproductive.

“Here’s my card. You can call me anytime,” Guan handed over a gilded business card.

“All right, I’ll wait for your call,” Yang Fan accepted it without further ado.

“Xiaoqing, prepare a contract for Brother Yang. Also, transfer 500,000 yuan to him,” Guan ordered decisively, effectively locking in the deal and making it difficult for Yang Fan to back out.

“Brother Yang, this Dharani banner should come in a pair. Do you know where the other one is?” Guan asked.

“There should be another. I’ll discuss it and see if we can offer both,” Yang Fan responded frankly.

“Good, Brother Yang, you’re straightforward,” Guan exclaimed joyfully. In the antique trade, a matched pair is typically worth four times the value of a single piece—doubling the combined worth of two items. Such rare pairs also generate far more excitement. Guan reckoned that if both banners were auctioned together, the event would be a sensation.

Meanwhile, Xiaoqing had brought the contract. Yang Fan reviewed it carefully, found no issues, and signed immediately.

A moment later, his phone chimed—a message confirmed the transfer of five hundred thousand yuan.

Yang Fan knew refusing would only unsettle Guan, so he signed the armor contract cheerfully.

“I’m staying at Room 505, Yishi Hotel on Chaowai Street. If you take the banners for auction, I’ll call and arrange for pickup,” Yang Fan said.

“Very well, I’ll await your good news,” Guan replied.

“Then I’ll take my leave,” Yang Fan stood, shaking hands with Guan and everyone else present.

“How did you get here, Brother Yang?” Guan inquired.

“I took a taxi.”

“Xiaoqing, Huang Ying, please see Brother Yang to his hotel,” Guan instructed.

“Thank you, Brother Guan,” Yang Fan accepted without hesitation, carefully packing the Dharani banner before leaving.

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With two stunning women escorting him, Yang Fan felt a little excited. They took the elevator down directly to the underground parking garage. His heart quickened noticeably along the way.

“How should I address you ladies?” Yang Fan asked shyly.

“I’m Zuo Xiaoqing, Guan’s secretary. She’s Huang Ying, the auction manager at Baoli,” Xiaoqing smiled.

“I’m Yang Fan, Mu Yi Yang—just plain Fan,” Yang Fan extended his hand, and both women shook it.

Xiaoqing’s fingers were long and slender, her handshake solid. She was slim and tall, a classic bone-structure beauty. Around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with delicately arched brows and light makeup. Standing about 1.75 meters tall, her long legs were straight and graceful, clad in a black sheath dress with gray stockings. Her cool demeanor gave her an unusual allure. In heels, she was even taller than Yang Fan.

At eighteen, Yang Fan was tanned from working on construction sites, but his youthful face looked innocent and unripe. Together they resembled siblings.

Xiaoqing was somewhat reserved—polite but distant.

This was Yang Fan’s first encounter with such a cool beauty, and he felt a bit awkward.

Huang Ying was the opposite. Shorter at around 1.6 meters, with a full, radiant face and slightly plump legs. She had a different charm, reminiscent of Hong Zhenying—a top beauty among the slightly fuller-figured. Wearing the same outfit and heels, she appeared especially cute.

Huang Ying was lively and quickly warmed up to Yang Fan.

“Mr. Yang, you really don’t show your true self! When you looked at that old desk in Guan’s office, it stunned old Huang and the others—they thought you were better than those old men,” she said.

“Oh, that’s just me talking nonsense. I’m only eighteen this year. The elders are just being kind, mentoring the younger generation. How could I compare to them?” Yang Fan joked.

They stepped out of the elevator. A black Mercedes-Benz S600 waited at the entrance. A young man in a black suit and white gloves opened the door.

“Ladies, please,” Yang Fan smiled.

“No, Mr. Yang, you’re the VIP—please, after you,” they insisted.

After a polite exchange, Xiaoqing sat on the left, Huang Ying on the right, and Yang Fan in the middle.

The Mercedes sped off toward the Yishi Hotel.

Seated in the car, surrounded by the faint scent of perfume, Yang Fan suddenly recalled an old saying—perhaps this was truly a stroke of good fortune bestowed by heaven.