Chapter 53 Exclusive Release Chapter 53 "Is it comfortable, ba..."
These words precisely pierced Meng Qianyue's last fig leaf. The fact that his legal wife mistreated his illegitimate daughter was nothing compared to the fact that it implied his weakness and incompetence as a father within the family.
The business world is like a battlefield; who doesn't have some shady secrets? But to have them exposed in such public and in such detail is undoubtedly extremely embarrassing.
Meng Qianyue felt a buzzing in his eardrums, blood rushing to his head, then instantly receding, leaving behind a cold sweat.
Looking at President Li's face, which was full of "I feel sorry for you" but actually gloating, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.
Mr. Li chuckled, deciding to call it quits while he was ahead. He raised his glass to Meng Qianyue and said, "Mr. Meng, don't mind me, I'm just a straightforward person. Let's talk again later!" With that, he turned and left.
The crowd's focus shifted, but Meng Qianyue knew that he had become the latest laughing stock in the circle tonight.
Meng Qianyue had no choice but to leave and go to the railing. He took a deep breath of the night air, and only the cold air filling his lungs could relieve the burning desire in his heart.
He thought of the daughter he had banished early on, who was only given love but no resources, and who was never taught how to take over the family business, yet she became the most promising one.
At that moment, the conversation between the two young people drifted into his ears.
"So, it's basically settled on Minister Jiang's side?"
"Yes, the information is reliable. However, Minister Jiang is a low-key person, and his son is even more so; they've always worked independently outside, never relying on their family's influence. The two didn't talk for long before Minister Jiang threw a tantrum, but ultimately agreed to the marriage. As the saying goes, even heroes can't resist the charms of a beautiful woman..."
"That's a biased view. How could a family like the Jiang's possibly agree to their son marrying a woman like that? No matter how beautiful she is, it's useless. But look at her daughter's career and studies in New York City. Everything she does is thriving and impressive. Marriages in wealthy families are about matching resources. This is a perfect match, a match made in heaven. Why would Minister Jiang disagree?"
"You're right. With all that honor and influence, the reputation of those illegitimate daughters and mistresses is no longer a stain. In her circle, any stain can be turned into a legendary story. So, people's vision and perspective are truly... tsk tsk."
The two young entrepreneurs walked away talking in hushed tones, leaving Meng Qianyue standing alone by the railing.
"Able to handle everything," "The best of both worlds," and "A perfect match of resources"—these are the words used to describe his daughter Yuan Ning and his former mistress Qiao Yiya.
And what about himself? In the eyes of others, he has become the one with a problem with "vision and perspective", who threw away a pearl as if it were a fish eye, and now he can only watch helplessly as the pearl shines brightly in the hands of others, and even reflects his own miserable state.
Ironically, Meng Qianyue now has a business that is sinking deeper and deeper into trouble, a troublesome young daughter, a domineering and resentful wife, and a son who is capable but lacks key support and is now also troubled by his sister's scandal.
But he had no choice in the way he had come up with. Was it wrong to exile that illegitimate daughter to New York?
His first wife suddenly wanted to punish them with ruthless measures, and he had no choice but to comply due to her power. Was he wrong?
If he was wrong, then he was wrong from the moment he committed adultery.
Meng Qingxing stood in his office in Hushi City and heard the news of his father's setback at the party.
The atmosphere at home has been tense lately. Mother Wang Xiulin does nothing but curse and cry, while father Meng Qianyue remains completely silent, saying that the family business was handed over to the eldest son and daughter long ago, and that his wife, who has suddenly become assertive in middle age, makes the decisions about the family affairs, and he doesn't care about anything else.
Unlike his father, Meng Qingxing was intelligent and knew how to be patient.
His real estate development project with Ms. Du Wenjin from Hong Kong had been stalled for months. The cash flow was tight; the initial investment seemed to have been thrown into a bottomless pit. There was no word from Du Wenjin; she was rumored to be overseas. He had exhausted all connections, but the other parties either claimed ignorance or implied that "it's Ms. Du's private investment, and we can't get involved." This project had become a noose tightening around his neck.
Just before he was about to fly to Hong Kong for one last try, a Chinese consultant based in New York City, whom he had finally managed to contact through multiple connections, gave him an unexpected message over the phone.
"Mr. Meng, the breakthrough for your project is right here, why bother going through so many troubles?"
"What do you mean?" Meng Qingxing's heart skipped a beat.
“Ms. Du Wenjin has rarely handled specific projects personally in recent years, especially those in mainland China. But she has a characteristic of trusting a small number of people with whom she has long-term cooperation and whose taste and ability are recognized by her. I have heard that your sister, Ms. Meng Yuanning, is now Ms. Du’s private consultant at Chanel. In addition, the two have a very close personal relationship and have also cooperated a lot in private business.”
Meng Qingxing's fingers tightened suddenly around his phone. His sister? Meng Yuanning?
"Is the information reliable?" he asked in a low voice.
"Ms. Du's schedule and social circle are very private, while Ms. Meng is now a well-known figure in New York's fashion and high-end service circles. It's perfectly reasonable for them to have connections. For someone of her social standing, a mainland real estate project might just be a casual investment, and she might not care about the profits or losses. But if you could put in a word with Ms. Meng, the project might take a turn for the better."
After hanging up the phone, Meng Qingxing sat blankly in his office for a long time. The ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts.
Absurd. Utterly absurd.
Just as he was in a state of confusion, trying to figure out how to use the information, there was a knock on the office door. Before he could respond, the door was pushed open.
The one who came in was his eldest sister, Meng Qingmeng.
Meng Qingmeng was three years older than Meng Qingxing. She wore a well-tailored dark gray suit, her long hair was neatly tied back, and she had a face that resembled Wang Xiulin's but was more cold and shrewd.
She is one of the few senior executives in the Meng family business who has established herself in the finance and strategy departments through her own abilities. She has a strong style, sharp eyes, and does not always give in to her younger brother, Meng Qingxing, the "crown prince".
"I heard Dad didn't have a good time at the party last night?" Meng Qingmeng walked straight to the chair opposite him, crossed her legs, and got straight to the point. She was always well-informed.
Meng Qingxing rubbed his temples and did not deny it: "That old bastard Li Guofu is deliberately picking a fight."
"It's not just picking a fight, is it?" Meng Qingmeng's tone was calm, yet penetrating. "Right now, everyone in the industry is saying that Qiao Yiya and her daughter are living the high life, having climbed up the social ladder, while our Meng family is being ridiculed for not recognizing talent and not being able to keep people. Qingxing, your project was the last straw that broke the camel's back. If the project had succeeded, Dad could have saved face by proving his abilities. Now that the project is half-dead, our whole family has become the subject of gossip."
Meng Qingxing's face was grim: "I know. I'm trying to figure something out."
"Think of a way?" Meng Qingmeng raised an eyebrow slightly, her gaze sweeping over the messy ashtray on his table and the phone he was clutching tightly. "Have you thought about asking our 'good sister' for help? Qingyuan suffered such a huge loss at her hands before. If you still want to ask her for help, have you thought about where our family's dignity will go?"
"Sister, what kind of time is this to still care about dignity? When necessary, an enemy can be a friend. In the business world, interests come first."
"What do you want to do?" Meng Qingmeng's voice turned cold.
At the private auction following the Metropolitan Museum of Art's charity ball, Yuan Ning was there as Elias's companion.
This is the scene of a private auction of postwar art and jewelry, by invitation only, with no media present.
Yuan Ning took Elias's arm and entered the hall.
She wore an extremely simple black silk halter-neck dress, paired with a full-green jade bead necklace that Theodora had given her.
The vibrant, rich green of jade flowed across her porcelain-white neck, creating a stunning contrast with her black dress; there were no other embellishments. Her hair was styled in a sleek low bun, not a single strand out of place.
Elias himself wore a midnight blue velvet tuxedo, which looked more elegant than the usual black, and his blonde hair was neatly combed.
The auction hall was small, covered with thick Persian carpets, and the deep red velvet chairs were arranged in an arc.
They sat in the front row, slightly to the right, their chairs very close together.
As soon as she sat down, Yuan Ning frowned slightly and took a very light breath.
Even the most expensive new shoes can be tiring on the feet if they're high heels.
The subtle movement went almost unnoticed, except by Elias, who was standing beside her.
He didn't turn his head, his gaze remaining fixed straight ahead as if examining the auction catalog. However, his right hand, which had been casually resting on the armrest, fell down naturally into the shadow between the two seats.
His fingertips gently pressed against her soft calves.
Yuan Ning has naturally slender legs with little muscle on her calves, and her calves are so soft that they can be kneaded and rolled at will.
Yuan Ning was slightly stiff at first, but relaxed when she saw his movements were subtle.
She was wearing stockings, and he massaged her legs soothingly, precisely relieving the soreness.
She subtly moved her leg half a step closer to him so that he could serve her more easily.
Elias remained silent for a while, and as the auctioneer on stage began introducing the first item, he suddenly asked, "Are you feeling comfortable, baby?"
Yuan Ning turned a page of the catalog, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she looked at a ruby crown.
"Mmm," she managed to squeeze out a very soft murmur from her throat, "a little harder."
Elias bent his index finger and applied a little more pressure, scraping across one of her particularly sore tendons.
The sensation was both tingling and numb. Caught off guard, Yuan Ning gasped for breath and quickly grabbed Elias's wrist.
"No, no, look, that crown is coming up."
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"A little."
Elias was silent for a few seconds. He didn't continue the massage, nor did he withdraw his hand. Instead, while she was holding his hand, he slowly and soothingly rubbed his thumb against the softest part of her calf. The sensation was clear and tantalizing even through her stockings.
On the stage, a crown inlaid with dozens of Burmese pigeon blood rubies was solemnly presented. Under the lights, the gemstones flowed with a rich, blood-like luster, and the gold-threaded base was so intricately crafted it was breathtaking.
“A work by Russian court artisans from the late 19th century,” Elias’s voice rang in her ears, deep and professional. “Originally belonging to an empress, it came into existence after the revolution. The ruby’s quality… is good, but the gold wire on the base is too fragile, and the signs of repair are obvious.”
His comments were calm and critical.
"So, you think it has investment value?" Yuan Ning asked, otherwise Elias wouldn't have paid attention to this collection in advance.
But he asked, "Do you like it?"
Yuan Ning looked at the magnificent yet slightly melancholic crown and shook her head: "It's too heavy. Wearing it on your head will probably make you dream of exile and tears."
This answer seemed to surprise Elias.
“A very interesting perspective. But don’t you think it’s precisely those ‘exiles and tears’ that give this thing a value that transcends the gem itself? That’s its true allure—not beauty, but the absolute possession of beauty by power.”
Yuan Ning understood Elias's logic of power—to transform the suffering and failures of others into decorations and proof of one's own authority.
"So, will you take a picture of it, Elias?"
"If the price is right and it's within a reasonable range, I will."
The auctioneer began to call for bids, and Elias initially raised his paddle a few times, but the crown was clearly attracting a lot of attention and eventually sold for a price far exceeding expectations.
“It’s not worth it.” He said calmly in the silence after the gavel fell, his voice devoid of any regret, only a pure assessment. “The emotional premium is too high. Collectors can pay for the story, but capitalists can’t.”
He put down the bidding paddle, leaned back in his chair, and Yuan Ning remained silent.
The following lots were unremarkable: an Edwardian diamond brooch and an Art Deco sapphire necklace. Elias showed little interest, only making two token bids on a pink diamond ring of exceptional quality.
During halftime, the waiter quietly brought over champagne.
Elias picked up his glass but didn't drink. Instead, he looked through the pale golden liquid at a figure not far away who was talking with several European collectors.
“Look at that person,” he tilted his head slightly, gesturing to Yuan Ning, “the one in the gray suit, with silver hair, talking to the director of the Vatican Museums.”
Yuan Ning followed his gaze. He was a man around sixty years old, dressed in seemingly unassuming clothes, but Yuan Ning immediately recognized that his cufflinks featured the classic Cartier screw design and his watch was an extremely rare Patek Philippe Sky Moon Phase Tourbillon.
"who is he?"
“Hans Peter von Eisenberg. A German, whose family controls the largest private art restoration fund in Europe and several top-tier laboratories that are not open to the public.” Elias sipped his champagne. “He rarely appears at auctions like this. Looks like there’s something he really wants tonight.”
The first lot in the second half of the auction was a complete set of twelve 17th-century Persian miniature paintings depicting hunting and court banquets. They were remarkably well-preserved, with colors remaining vibrant and dazzling despite the passage of centuries.
The core of the painting lies in two very special colors: industrial gray powder and cobalt blue oxide.
The starting price was not low. Bidding quickly ensued between several Middle Eastern collectors and a representative of a Japanese foundation.
Von Eisenberg didn't raise his paddle until the price had climbed to a breathtaking number. He was relaxed, as if he were just buying a newspaper.
But Elias also started raising his placard.
Yuan Ning looked at him in surprise: "Elijas, you want this?"
Elias nodded: "My expectation is $100,000, but von Eisenberg wants it tonight too, so I can raise my expectation to $150,000. Anything more than that would not be worth it."
Yuan Ning realized the German's status in Elias's words.
Initially, she was not optimistic about this item. She remembered that the catalog noted that "its aesthetic value outweighs its investment value, the material is fragile, the maintenance cost is extremely high, and it is worth collecting if it is under $100,000."
Yuan Ning was already dazzled by the various expensive items at the auction, and it wasn't until the price climbed to $150,000 that she was drawn to this painting.
She seemed to see its enormous cultural value and investment potential.
Elias put down the bidding paddle and leaned back in his chair again.
But von Eisenberg continued.
The price has reached $180,000.
Elias raised an eyebrow and decided to stand by and watch.
After he withdrew, it seemed that no one else was bidding against von Eisenberg.
The other person glanced at him from afar and nodded in acknowledgment, seemingly as a way of expressing gratitude for the concession.
Elias responded with a nod and a smile, indicating that the other party would gladly accept.
As the gavel struck twice, the auctioneer asked if anyone else was bidding.
Elias remained calm and composed when Yuan Ning suddenly nudged his hand under the chair and gave him a look.
Elias frowned for a moment, then understood and raised his paddle to call out: "200,000."
Von Eisenberg, who had already secured the item, looked over in surprise, his face showing some annoyance, wondering why a perfectly respectable gentleman would make fun of him.
Elias picked up his top hat, lightly pressed it to his chest, sat down in his chair, and bowed in apology.
The annoyance on von Eisenberg's face vanished, replaced by a deeper, almost dangerous calm. He no longer looked at Elias, but directly at the auctioneer, and clearly announced: "Two hundred and fifty thousand."
The price jumped by 50,000. This was a clear signal: I was determined to get it, and I wasn't going to waste any time.
A low gasp filled the auction hall. This price had completely deviated from the norm.
Elias placed his fingers on Yuan Ning's calf; he hesitated, deep in thought.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand, the first time."
Yuan Ning tugged at him again, and he understood, raising his sign once more: "Three hundred thousand."
The tone is equally determined.
The entire auction hall was completely silent.
Von Eisenberg glanced back at him again, seemingly quite surprised.
Elias nodded to him again, indicating that he was determined to win and would compete on financial resources, and that the other party was no match for him.
Von Eisenberg looked at him for about three seconds, then, very slowly, turned his head back. He did not raise the sign again.
"Three hundred thousand, for the first time."
"Three hundred thousand, the second time."
"Three hundred thousand, third time. Sold!"
The hammer fell, leaving a lingering resonance.
Elias stood up and walked towards the signing table. As he passed von Eisenberg, the elderly German man spoke again, this time in English, his voice hoarse:
“Mr. Van der Berg, the price to win a smile from a beauty is not cheap.”
Elias stopped and turned slightly to the side: "Why do you say that?"
He was half a head taller than von Eisenberg, and the way he looked down at people at that moment carried an innate arrogance.
"You don't understand this painting. The only person who could make you pay such a high price to buy it is that Asian girl next to you."
Elias paused, a thoughtful look flashing across his icy blue eyes, but he quickly realized something and laughed: "So, this painting is indeed very valuable, and it wasn't just for making a beauty smile."
Von Eisenberg chuckled: "That's strange. You didn't understand its value. Did you bid so recklessly just to win a smile from the beauty, or did you trust her investment acumen? You, Elias van der Berg, don't seem like the type to do business at a loss."
Nighttime, Van der Berg mansion, Elias's study.
Elias handed her the painting he had just won: "Now can you tell me what I bought for three hundred thousand dollars?"
Yuan Ning took the specially made painting box with a dark velvet lining, her fingertips brushing against the cold metal clasp on the surface.
Only a green-shaded desk lamp was lit in the study. Elias sat behind his desk, the high-backed chair enveloping him in an aura of near-judge's authority.
He leaned back slightly, his fingertips touching, forming a tower shape, and rested on his abdomen. His posture was completely relaxed, yet it carried an unmistakable scrutiny.
Yuan Ning was standing in front of the desk, right within his field of vision.
But Yuan Ning ignored the invisible differences in social class. She walked around the desk and moved her Apple computer in front of him.
"Two of the colors in this painting, cobalt blue oxide, are not ordinary cobalt blue, Elias."
She inserted her external hard drive and skillfully opened the file.
Throughout the entire process, Elias leaned back in his chair and watched quietly.
"That's the 'sighing blue' unique to court painters of the late Rajput dynasty. On the lower edge of the Jataka tale of the Deer King in Cave 257 of the Mogao Grottoes in Dunhuang, there is a similar, almost blackish deep blue, used to depict the Ganges at night. Professor Gao Ran took me to do pigment sampling analysis. It was lapis lazuli from a specific vein in the Badakhshan region of Afghanistan, and it was top-grade ultramarine extracted through the 'cold immersion glaze extraction method,' a technique that was lost after the tenth century."
Elias wasn't really listening; these things weren't his forte. He glanced down at the screen.
Before entering the study, the two rested in their respective rooms for a while and changed out of their formal attire.
She was wearing light pink fluffy shorts with a pom-pom design at the back waist, like a tail, making you really want to pinch it.
“I saw a description in the annotations of an unpublished manuscript from the Dunhuang Academy about the Silk Road pigment trade during the Tubo period: ‘The Rajput court had a blue, like the last breath of a dying night, called ‘Sigh.’ It was made from the heart of lapis lazuli, mixed with snowmelt and myrrh, and was prepared over three hottest and three coldest periods of summer to produce only an inch of it.’ The formula and process have long been lost and only exist in legends.”
She paused, sensing Elias's body freeze for a moment, and continued, "What is the von Eisenberg family laboratory best at?"
Elias understood what she meant, but...
“Wynne,” he called her name, his tone strange, “you know so much.”
Yuan Ning tilted her head slightly and smiled.
She was just wearing her usual fleece shorts that she would wear at home, and her tone was very serious.
“In Parsons’ library, in the Dunhuang Academy’s archives, and… countless nights I forced myself to swallow every bit of information I could find about art history, archaeology, materials science, and the unspoken rules of high society in order not to be exposed.” Her voice was soft, but carried a heavy weight. “When you have nothing and can only rely on your mind and knowledge to disguise yourself, you learn things very quickly and remember them very well.”
Her lips were slightly pursed, opening and closing occasionally as she explained, their natural, healthy, moist sheen shining under the light.
Vulnerability and resilience, naivety and erudition, an unguarded girlishness and an aggressive intelligence... these contrasting qualities intertwine and collide within her, creating a dizzying attraction.
Elias felt his Adam's apple bob slightly. The low hum of the thermostat in the study became unusually clear at that moment.
"Are you done talking?" he finally spoke, his voice a few decibels lower and hoarse than usual.
"Are you done talking?" Yuan Ning replied, then turned to him and asked, "So, do you think it was worth spending 300,000?"
His gaze was fixed on her, slowly sliding from her eyes to her slightly parted lips, then down to her chest rising and falling gently with her breath, and finally settling on the pink pom-pom at her waist.
Elias patted her head: "It's worth it, of course it's worth it."
Yuan Ning was delighted to hear this, and Elias's hand patted her head gently, almost too gently, yet his gaze pressed down heavily, and then he said:
"Take your pants off."
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