I lent my brother 500 yuan, and he offered his wife as collateral.

……

As night falls, the lights are on.

Tianbao Pavilion.

The three large, gilded characters shimmered with a dark golden glow in the night. As the most prestigious auction house in the entire Southwest region, this place was destined to be the very center of fame and fortune tonight.

Luxury cars flowed in like water.

Rolls-Royce Phantom, Bentley Mulsanne, Maybach S680...

Those top-of-the-line vehicles that are rarely seen on ordinary days are now lined up like cabbages, slowly moving in front of the door.

A well-dressed tycoon, arm in arm with a bejeweled female companion, stepped onto the hundred-meter-long scarlet carpet, amidst a flurry of flashes and the clicking of camera shutters.

The air was filled with the scent of expensive perfumes and the decadent atmosphere of money.

"squeak--"

A Mercedes-Benz G-Class pulled up behind the Rolls-Royce convoy.

The car, which is usually quite good, seems rather mediocre at this moment.

The car door opened.

Qin Feng stepped out of the car and then reached his hand into the car: "Get out."

A foot wearing a flat lambskin shoe hesitated for a moment before gently stepping onto the ground.

Su Qingxue got out of the car.

Even though she was wearing a light pink Chanel dress she had just bought that afternoon, and even though Qin Feng had clumsily styled her hair into a fairly neat bun, she still seemed out of place in this world.

She looked at the magnificent golden gate before her, and at the upper-class people chatting and laughing, her eyes filled with a hint of panic.

So bright.

The lights were so bright that she felt the dark red birthmark on her face was nowhere to be hidden.

Su Qingxue instinctively lowered her head, her hands gripping the fabric on both sides of her skirt tightly.

"Feng...Brother Feng..."

Su Qingxue's voice was barely audible, and her body trembled slightly. "How about... I wait outside? I... I won't go in."

Qin Feng glanced at her fingers, which were almost twisting the hem of her skirt.

There was no comforting words, no preaching.

He simply stepped forward, his large hand enveloping her cold little hand.

Their fingers are intertwined.

"Look up." Qin Feng's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable power.

Su Qingxue froze, forced to raise her head.

"This is the Heavenly Treasure Pavilion, not the Palace of the King of Hell."

Qin Feng pulled her along, striding straight towards the VIP passage with its red carpet. "Besides," he said, "I've already taken you through the gates of hell once, what's there to be afraid of?"

His palms were warm, dry, and strong.

The heat spread from her palms throughout her body, and Su Qingxue's panicked heartbeat miraculously calmed down a bit.

The two walked side by side.

A man dressed in ordinary casual clothes, with one hand in his pocket, looked as lazy as if he had just finished shopping at the market.

A woman wearing an expensive haute couture gown was looking down like a schoolchild who had made a mistake.

This strange combination immediately attracted the attention of those around them.

"Who's there? You've come to the wrong door, haven't you?"

"He looks like a designated driver, but why is he with a girl?"

"Tsk tsk, these young people nowadays, they'll do anything to get on the red carpet. Why is that woman keeping her head down? Is she too ugly to show her face?"

Snickers and whispers swarmed around them like flies.

Qin Feng ignored them and continued walking without stopping. He led Su Qingxue directly to the front of the line and headed towards the carved mahogany gate.

Doorway.

A security manager with slicked-back hair and a sharp uniform was seeing off a coal mine owner with a big smile on his face, but the smile vanished the moment he turned around.

He put on a cold, hard face.

"stop."

The manager stretched out a hand, blocking Qin Feng's way.

He was wearing a white glove on his hand, and a police baton lanyard was hooked on his index finger, swaying with his movements.

The manager looked Qin Feng up and down, his gaze lingering for two seconds on Qin Feng's clothes, which totaled no more than two hundred yuan.

His eyes held undisguised contempt.

"What do you do?"

The manager raised his chin, his nostrils pointing directly at Qin Feng. "This is the VIP lane. Regular customers go that way!"

A murmur of laughter rippled through the queuing guests.

Several rich kids in custom-made suits stopped in their tracks, looking on with expressions of amusement.

"Dude, did you wander into the wrong movie set? This is a high-end auction." A young man with dyed yellow hair said sarcastically, his arm around his female companion.

"Haha, maybe he's here to appraise a treasure? Look, isn't he carrying an heirloom chamber pot in his pocket?"

Su Qingxue trembled, lowered her head even further, wishing she could bury her face in her chest.

Qin Feng glanced at the manager's name tag.

Lobby Manager: Liu Song.

"I'll pay for it," Qin Feng said calmly. "Get out of the way."

"Spend money?" Liu Song scoffed, as if he'd heard the funniest joke of the year, dramatically picking his ear. "You? Do you know how much credentials you need to cross that threshold? Five million!"

Liu Song took a step closer, slapping his baton loudly in his hand: "Kid, if you want to show off in front of women, find somewhere else. Tianbao Pavilion isn't a place you can run wild with. Get lost, or I'll have you thrown out and you can't afford to pay for the red carpet you've stained!"

The commotion attracted even more onlookers.

Hearing the commotion, the security guards also gathered around, their hands on their walkie-talkies, and the atmosphere immediately became tense.

Looking at Liu Song's snobbish face, Qin Feng suddenly found it somewhat amusing.

This is what is known as high society.

The threshold is gilded, but people's hearts are rotten as mud.

"I find verifying funds too much trouble." Qin Feng removed his hands from his pockets, rummaged around inside for a moment, and said, "But I have this."

All eyes were on his hands.

The rich kids stared wide-eyed, waiting to see what amazing treasure this poor kid could pull out.

Even Su Qingxue couldn't help but raise her head, her eyes filled with anticipation.

Qin Feng withdrew his hand.

He was holding an envelope in his hand.

It was less of an envelope and more of a wad of scrap paper.

It was an extremely ordinary kraft paper envelope, crumpled and wrinkled, with a thumb-sized patch of red oil stuck to the seal—it was chili oil that Qin Feng had casually left on the table while eating wontons.

"Here you go." Qin Feng handed over the envelope.

Quiet.

The entire room fell silent.

Immediately afterwards, a burst of laughter erupted.

"Pfft—hahahaha! What the hell is this?!"

The blond rich kid laughed until tears streamed down his face. "This is your invitation? Did you just snatch it from a trash can? What's that on it? Lao Gan Ma chili sauce?"

"This is incredible! Absolutely incredible! Is this guy trying to be funny?"

"Oh no, I can't take it anymore, this is performance art!"

Liu Song was so angry he laughed.

He'd been in this line of work for over a decade and had seen people sneak through with fake invitations and others force their way in, but this was the first time someone had insulted his intelligence with a wad of greasy scrap paper!

"You're playing me?" Liu Song's face darkened, and a fierce glint appeared in his eyes.

He didn't even reach out his hand; he simply pinched a small corner of the envelope with two fingers, as if he were holding a used condom.

"You dare call this piece of junk an invitation?"

Liu Song held up the envelope, showing it to everyone around him, and loudly mocked:

"Look everyone! This is our 'VIP's' admission ticket! I think you were begging for food and lost your mind? Trying to get into Tianbao Pavilion with toilet paper?"

Qin Feng's eyes turned slightly cold.

"Look carefully at the seal before you speak," Qin Feng reminded him calmly.

"A seal? I think you're out of your mind!"

Liu Song didn't even bother to look at it. With a flick of his wrist, he was about to throw the envelope back at Qin Feng's face: "Take your trash and get the hell out of here! Security! Get these two beggars to me..."

He had only swung his hand halfway through.

"Snapped!"

A hand suddenly reached out from the side.

It was an extremely beautiful hand.

Her skin was as white as jade, her fingers were long and slender, and she wore a top-quality imperial green jadeite bracelet on her wrist, which made her hand look even more noble.

But this seemingly delicate hand firmly intercepted Liu Song's wrist.

The envelope hung in mid-air, less than ten centimeters from Qin Feng's face.

Liu Song was taken aback and subconsciously tried to break free, but found that he couldn't move at all.

"Who the hell is meddling..." Liu Song cursed as he turned his head.

Before he could finish speaking, he froze.

Like a male duck with its neck being choked, all its sounds are stuck in its throat.

Standing beside him was a woman.

She wore a well-tailored black velvet cheongsam with a white mink vest draped over her shoulders.

Her long hair was pulled up high, revealing her slender swan neck.

Her face was beautiful yet aloof, especially her phoenix eyes, which now exuded a chilling aura.

She didn't look at Liu Song; her gaze was fixed on the crumpled envelope that Liu Song was holding between his fingers.

To be precise.

He stared at the corner of the envelope, at a dark red sealing wax stamp that was still faintly visible despite being stained with chili oil.

The design on the seal was very simple.

A blooming ink plum blossom.

"stop."

The woman's voice was clear and cold, carrying an air of authority that had long held a high position, piercing through all the surrounding noise.

She released Liu Song's wrist and took the envelope from his hand with extremely gentle, even respectful, movements.

She didn't mind the dirt; she stretched out her finger and gently wiped away the smear of red oil.

verified.

Ink Plum Seal.

This is the personal seal of Mr. Liu Songhe, the president of the Southwest Antiques Association and a leading figure in the field of antique appraisal!

Seeing this letter is like seeing the person in person!

There are probably no more than three handwritten letters of this caliber in the entire Southwest!

"Manager Liu."

The woman slowly turned her head, her gaze sweeping across Liu Song's already deathly pale face like a knife.

"You think you can just throw away Chairman Liu Songhe's handwritten letter?"