Chapter 30: Shen Xin Appears

"He doesn't bite, you know."

Shen Zhaoxi raised her eyebrows and looked at her, saying, "Is this really enough to frighten the renowned Miss Sheng, who faces danger without blinking an eye?"

Meeting the girl's amused gaze, Sheng Ting shot her a glare.

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one dealing with it, isn't it?"

Shen Zhaoxi's younger brother was two years younger than both of them. Yet, he had always been mature beyond his years. In front of them, he often acted like a little monk reciting scriptures. Sheng Ting found him rather troublesome.

During this joint operation in Dongzhou, Shen Zhaoxi had been injured in Yingdu. After the W Corporation building exploded, she remained unconscious at the military district hospital for a full three days. Had she not awakened, Sheng Ting feared she would have had to answer to Old Master Shen herself.

And all this happened without the Shen family knowing a thing. If her brother found out, who could say what might happen?

Just then, a commotion arose in the grand hall downstairs. Many guests in elegant evening attire, faces hidden behind masquerade masks, gathered with glasses in hand.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and then burst into brilliance, illuminating the entire club. The beams focused on the central high platform, hinting that some mysterious treasure was about to appear.

This auction gala was cloaked in mystery, grandeur, and solemnity. Everyone present was meticulously dressed. Though on the surface it appeared to be a gathering for the capital’s nobility, in truth, none who came here were ordinary.

After all, those who could enter the Imperial View Club were never simple people.

The hall was filled with guests clad in colorful gowns, glasses at their fingertips, toasting and conversing. The host for the evening ascended the stage to announce the rules.

In summary: the auction tonight was held in the name of charity. All proceeds would be donated to those in need.

Charity work was highly esteemed among the capital’s elite. Who would pass up the chance to acquire something they liked while burnishing their reputation as philanthropists? At worst, it was just spending a bit of money—of which they had plenty.

But unlike typical auctions, here only one item would be offered at a time—selected at random.

Thus, the Imperial View was not a formal auction house. This was its unique charm.

Long before the event, word had spread that a relic lost for a thousand years would make its appearance tonight. Everyone was intrigued.

Because of the random, unusual format, all attendees wore masks—a tacit tradition within the Imperial View.

The lights at the gala shone dazzlingly bright.

All eyes in the venue turned to the stage, where an object lay covered in red silk.

"Do you suppose that's truly the lost treasure from the Western Zhou dynasty?"

A relic lost for a thousand years, suddenly appearing here—who could believe it without seeing with their own eyes?

Curiosity burned in every heart.

"You've all been waiting for this, haven't you?" The host smiled at the expectant audience, spread his arms, and raised the microphone to his lips, announcing loudly:

"Now, please welcome the only item to be auctioned tonight—the grand finale of our gala!"

"The Western Zhou Chess Manual—" the host declared with emphasis.

Under the audience's watchful gaze, the host gestured to the right. The red silk was dramatically lifted from the item on the high platform.

"My goodness! Look!"

A wave of excitement rippled through the crowd, followed by gasps of astonishment.

"Could this be the legendary, long-lost Western Zhou Chess Manual?"

Many had heard of this artifact, but none had seen it with their own eyes. The opportunity to witness this thousand-year-lost treasure was extraordinary.

Unlike anything before, this was a once-in-a-lifetime relic—priceless, rarely even available for purchase. That it should appear tonight was beyond anyone’s expectations.

Beneath a transparent glass case lay a half-yellowed, dust-covered remnant of a scroll—ancient and tattered, yet clearly a precious antiquity.

"The starting bid is ten million!" announced the host.

"My goodness, it's truly a marvel," exclaimed Jiang Buyan, seated in the Imperial View's VIP suite. Even he was awestruck by the finale item.

"If I could win that and display it at home, what a statement that would make!" he said, oblivious to the reaction of the man across from him.

When the red silk was removed and the relic revealed, the man opposite him—dressed in a black suit, exuding an air of chilly elegance—suddenly looked up. His eyes, black as icy onyx, deep and unfathomable, fixed on the stage. The slender, pale fingers that had been rhythmically tapping his knee came to an abrupt halt.

Meanwhile, the bidding continued fiercely in the ballroom.

"Twenty million!" a noble young man called out suddenly.

"Twenty-five million!"

"Twenty-six million!" another voice quickly followed.

"Thirty million—" the young noble refused to be outdone, raising his paddle once more.

The competition was intense.

"Thirty-five million."

"Fifty million!"

Hearing the bidding rise ever higher, the young aristocrat boldly called out his offer. Even for a millennium-old treasure, it was just half a chess manual, more suited for collection than practical use.

He looked every inch the wealthy scion of some grand family, though he hardly seemed the type to collect antiquities. After making his bid, he glanced around proudly, a smug smile on his lips.

For someone like him, splurging to win the finale item was all about prestige—and perhaps the admiration of the city's heiresses.

Yet, as he basked in the attention, a clear female voice rang out:

"Seventy million—"

The crowd was stunned, all eyes turning toward the source. Who in the capital could so casually offer seventy million for a fragment of a thousand-year-old chess manual?

And an incomplete one at that!

As they looked, a vision of pure white appeared amid the throng: Shen Xin, serene as a rose, the very picture of a refined and gentle noblewoman. The lights cast a glow on her delicate, beautiful face.

She offered the crowd a gentle, composed smile.

Sheng Ting watched the fierce contest below.

"It seems the item you want is about to be taken from you," she teased deliberately.

A cold smile touched Sheng Ting's lips as she looked down at the girl in the pure white gown.

"No one can take what's mine," she replied, her voice icy.

Shen Zhaoxi's expression was unreadable. Her soft, almond-shaped eyes froze over, as if winter snow were falling within them, settling on Shen Xin.

As she spoke, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet—like the chill of an ice cavern.