Crossing the Line – Chapter 83
by Little PandaPassion Will Never Fail You
Jiashibi’s Autumn Auction in J City was divided into two phases.
The Gold, Stone, and Jade Department, where Jiang Siyi worked, took the first phase.
Only after the first phase concluded, following a one-week interval, would the Autumn Auctions of the two heaviest departments by volume — Chinese Painting and Calligraphy, and Oil Painting — take the stage.
In past years, the first phase had been a mere appetizer, warming the room for the back half.
This year was different.
The Gold, Stone, and Jade Department with Jiang Siyi in it was under intense scrutiny, and her personal solo special was slated to appear between the Painting and Calligraphy and Oil Painting sessions.
On the morning of the auction, Jiang Siyi and Lin Ji went out and jogged three kilometers together.
When they got back and showered, Lin Ji helped Jiang Siyi into her qipao.
This moonlight-white qipao was a limited “Autumn Auction” edition tailored specially for her by Lin Xuebo.
An elegant allure — the beauty of first ripeness.
Looking at herself in the mirror, her throat bobbed faintly.
Lin Ji was fastening the buttons at the side of her waist.
“Nervous?”
“Mm… a little.”
Once the buttons were done, Lin Ji wrapped her arms around her waist and kissed her cool lips.
“Go and have fun. Don’t let it weigh on you.”
Lin Ji’s soft, burning lips — and that word “fun” — calmed Jiang Siyi’s nervously racing heart considerably.
Right. Just go play.
Life was a playground. You picked the rides you wanted, and whether they thrilled or soothed, every one of them was just an experience.
At the Gold, Stone, and Jade Department’s auction venue.
Lin Ji and Lin Xuebo; Jiang Siling and Glenda, whose cervical spine had improved considerably; Yan Yu, Cen Lu, Qiao Jin, Kong Yuchen… a whole crowd of family and friends had come to cheer her on.
The turnout was practically on par with the wedding banquet.
At Jiang Siyi’s own wish, Lin Ji had briefed everyone in advance.
Come to lift Jiang Siyi’s spirits, keep her company at a pivotal moment in her life, witness her brilliance together — just don’t raise a paddle.
Lin Xuebo was rather wistful about it; she’d originally planned to buy out the entire room today and make her darling Siyi the brightest star of the Autumn Auction.
Backstage.
Countless flower baskets lined the corridor from one end clear out the other.
Jiang Siyi’s friends-and-family squad had arrived in force, practically taking over the place.
Naturally, however imposing the rest were, Lin Ji’s flower basket remained the most eye-catching, the most beautiful.
As always, a handwritten card sat on the basket.
【Dear Ms. Siyi — may you shine bright in the garden of art at this grand occasion, may your gavel fall in triumph. Passion will never fail you. Wishing you every success at the Autumn Auction. — Your wife, Lin Ji.】
The handwriting was elegant and sure; Jiang Siyi adored every word of it.
She snuck a photo of it for her private collection.
Then she had Duan Ning take a picture of her with the baskets.
Duan Ning shot her from every angle with consummate professionalism and was about to show her the results when someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind.
Duan Ning turned — and came face to face with a grandly elegant, stunningly beautiful lady of society.
“Xiao Duan.” The lady regarded her with a smile. “We meet at last.”
Duan Ning: ?
And you are…?
The lady took her hand and studied her face. “Even prettier than in your photos.”
Even the ever-flirtatious Duan Ning froze. What was going on — was her makeup that good today? Where had an encounter of this caliber even come from?
Jiang Siyi knew every VIC in the department by heart; even the ones she didn’t personally handle, she knew cold.
She whispered a reminder from behind Duan Ning.
“That’s Wang Tai Tai.”
Holy shit?
The Wang Tai Tai who rode every deadline to the wire, who forced Duan Ning into overtime revising catalogues, and whom Duan Ning spent 360 days a year wishing she could toss onto the mall’s flash-sale page?
The two of them had always communicated online — mostly through Wang Tai Tai’s agent, at that — so this was the first time meeting her in the flesh.
As the most powerful, most famous widow in all of J City — a glamorous widow at that — Wang Tai Tai was far younger and more dazzling than Duan Ning had imagined.
Duan Ning mumbled some reply, her mind a complete blank.
Just then, Fan Qing came around the corner of the corridor, a beautiful flower basket in one hand.
One was for Jiang Siyi — without the Lady Boss, who knew whether her 20% raise this year would have gone through.
The other was for Duan Ning.
One of Duan Ning’s hands was clasped in Wang Tai Tai’s; her other hand fell into Fan Qing’s.
Fan Qing thanked her sincerely: “Thank you so much for all your help with my work these past weeks, Miss Duan. Wishing you every success at the auction!”
Duan Ning stared at this ice-cool beauty, utterly baffled.
When did I help you with your work? How do I know absolutely nothing about this?
Mid-daze, Duan Ning heard a cough.
“Duan Ning.” Wu Yilu stood at the lounge doorway, tone frosty. “What are you doing. Xiao Jiang, you’re up in the wings.”
Her gaze swept warily over Fan Qing; she gave Wang Tai Tai a stiff smile.
“Coming, coming.”
Duan Ning extracted her hands from both sides, looped her arm through Jiang Siyi’s, said “thank you” to Wang Tai Tai and Fan Qing, and hurried into the lounge.
What an absolute shura field!
And why had Wu Yilu just seemed so fierce — fiercer than she’d ever been?
She’d even seemed a little upset.
Watching Wu Yilu’s silent back of head, Duan Ning’s mind was already flying through a hundred coaxing lines.
Eight o’clock sharp that evening.
Staff were pouring champagne for the honored guests when a woman’s voice rang out from the main podium.
“Distinguished guests, dear collectors, good evening. Welcome to ‘Carved Jade and Chased Gold* * *Autumn Elegance Gathering,’ the Jiashibi Autumn themed auction.”
Jiang Siyi’s voice carried through the microphone and filled the hall — clear and bright, unhurried and steady, not loud, yet remarkably penetrating.
The murmurs and hum of conversation in the room were pressed down by her voice in an instant.
Lin Ji remembered that at the spring auction, which hadn’t even been this large, a detectable nervousness had clung to Jiang Siyi.
This time, meeting the gaze of the entire hall beneath a global livestream, Jiang Siyi could not only present the opening chapter of tonight’s auction with composure, but even catch Lin Ji’s eyes for a brief moment and smile faintly.
Truly, that loose ease of someone out to play.
And out of it flowed an even stronger air of command over the whole room.
Lin Ji, the “chief examiner” of the spring auction, was now utterly and completely her audience.
Lin Xuebo helped with photos and video, leaving Lin Ji free to savor her incomparably beautiful wife tonight.
After delivering the baskets, Fan Qing crept, bent low, to the VIP seats and found that Qiao Jin had at some point moved to the outermost seat of the row — with one place still empty beside her.
Saved for me?
Fan Qing’s heart thumped hard several times. Whatever — sit first.
Qiao Jin handed her the extra glass of wine she was holding.
When Fan Qing said “thank you,” Qiao Jin leaned in against her.
Her face was warm before she’d drunk a thing; Fan Qing quietly straightened her spine so Qiao Jin could lean more comfortably.
Qiao Jin: “Hand.”
Fan Qing: …
She passed over the hand not holding wine.
Qiao Jin laced their fingers and rested them on Fan Qing’s leg.
Fan Qing had never dated anyone; her sense of rhythm was hopeless. All the “study materials” in the world read as overwrought — technique that never quite touched ground.
Thank goodness Qiao Jin was leading her, walking her smoothly through the door.
What to do, and when — none of it was ever her worry; Qiao Jin arranged everything beautifully.
Even in bed she was a gifted teacher, showing her how to kiss, how to hold, how to make each other feel best.
It had Fan Qing half-convinced she was already something of an expert.
Just as the first lot was about to go up, someone settled into a very unremarkable corner of the very last row, diagonally behind Fan Qing.
After sitting, Bo Ting adjusted the hearing aid in her right ear.
Her previous one had been broken; to hear Jiang Siyi’s Autumn Auction, she’d had a new one fitted in a hurry just yesterday.
It wasn’t comfortable — but so long as it let her hear Jiang Siyi’s voice, Bo Ting could bear it.
On the podium, Jiang Siyi began introducing the first lot: a set of Song dynasty jade lezi.
She finished with the piece’s features and collectible value, and the bidding officially opened.
“Starting price, 2.8 million RMB, with increments of 50,000.”
Jiang Siyi’s gaze swept the hall.
For a moment, no one raised a paddle.
No bids came in online either.
A brief silence settled over the room — entirely expected.
Mid-priced lots meeting a cold open was the norm; the veterans in the hall were all waiting for a first bidder to test the waters.
Bo Ting sat with her arms crossed. A cold open is every auctioneer’s nightmare, and a problem that surfaces again and again.
Handled poorly, the chill spreads, and the whole session may never heat up.
It takes seasoned experience to control and manage.
What she wanted to see was how Jiang Siyi responded.
If she was all surface, she wouldn’t clear even this first hurdle.
Jiang Siyi didn’t mechanically repeat the price. She cradled a lezi in her palm and introduced it with quiet confidence:
“Connoisseurs, look closely at this set of Song-dynasty treasures. Across thousands of years of jade-working history, only Song craftsmen dared a cut this bold — not one carving on the body, the whole form set and boned by nothing but this ring of string-pattern grooves at the waist. And observe the drill channel: straight as if ruled. Today’s artisans with their powered tools could scarcely reproduce it.”
In a few short sentences, she laid the lezi’s value and artistic refinement utterly bare.
She knows her stuff, Bo Ting thought. A top student of Chinese art history — and thoroughly prepared.
“Tonight’s reserve is a mere 2.8 million — less than half of what contemporary jade sculpture fetches.”
Having unpacked the lot’s collectible value, Jiang Siyi moved to horizontal comparison, goading the collectors’ competitive instinct further.
“Allow me to tell you, connoisseurs — in a rival house’s catalogue next month, a comparable piece carries an estimate of 5 million.”
The moment she finished, paddle 198 rose in the VIP seats.
Jiang Siyi: “2.85 million.”
After paddle 198, the telephone bidding desk joined in.
Jiang Siyi kept an even pace, her eyes catching every increment in the room and online.
“…3.05 million, 3.1 million… 3.55 million.”
Paddle 198 in the VIP seats raised the stakes outright.
“4 million.”
“4.05 million.” The telephone desk refused to let go.
Bidding steadily under control, Jiang Siyi kept the numbers rolling, and the competitive fever caught fast.
Lin Xuebo was suffering. She’d wanted to jump in during the cold open, and now Jiang Siyi’s pitch had her genuinely tempted — she wanted to buy the piece back for her own collection.
Too bad Lin Ji wouldn’t let her bid.
In the end, collector 198 took the pair of lezi at a hammer price of 4.7 million.
Nearly a million over estimate.
Wu Yilu and Duan Ning, standing at the edge of the hall, exhaled in unison.
“So steady. So steady.”
The consignors watching the livestream were extremely satisfied — one even called CEO Gu specifically to praise Jiang Siyi: young, yet seasoned, with a general’s poise.
CEO Gu took the call while sitting with President Yan in an upstairs box watching the auction.
He hung up, beaming, and turned to President Yan. “That was someone singing Xiao Jiang’s praises. The consignor’s over the moon.”
She had traveled a long way to J City, and getting to watch a junior perform like this in person, President Yan gave a faint nod of approval.
CEO Gu confirmed it: President Yan genuinely admired Xiao Jiang.
In all his years, he had never seen her acknowledge anyone’s performance this directly — even if it was only the barest dip of a nod.
The auction went on.
Under cover of swiping the electronic screen at the podium, eyes lowered, Jiang Siyi let the tension of moments ago breathe out of her.
To everyone else she looked flawless; inside, she had still been strung tight.
Her mind had spun out countless contingencies of “what if it stays cold” — and what had just played out was the optimal answer.
Thank goodness.
She lifted her head, ready to bring up the second lot.
Her gaze settled, as naturally as before, on Lin Ji.
Lin Ji gave her a thumbs up.
— Absolutely incredible.
Jiang Siyi pressed her lips together, happy.
Wherever Lin Ji was, there was always safety.
She gathered her thoughts quickly and returned her focus to the auction.
From there, whether bidding wars deadlocked, or prices stalled below a consignor’s hopes, or the room went cold again, Jiang Siyi turned every situation with a light touch.
The experience she had built up attending everyday auctions and lectures all year now fused into one flowing whole.
The finale lot of this year’s Gold, Stone, and Jade Autumn Auction was Wang Tai Tai’s Burmese natural jadeite bead necklace — a sister piece to the glass-species imperial green necklace that had hammered past 100 million at another house four years ago.
Many people had come tonight for this piece alone — a queen of bead necklaces rarely seen in recent years.
Wang Tai Tai had come herself, to see whether her collection could break 100 million.
It was the first time in Jiang Siyi’s career that she wielded the gavel over a lot estimated above 100 million.
Under the spotlights, she kept a composure beyond her years.
Drawing out the price, stoking the competitive fire, commanding the room… flawless.
When several English-speaking collectors entered the bidding, she even ran the numbers in two languages at once.
In the end, this queen of bead necklaces hammered at an astronomical 140 million RMB.
In the instant Jiang Siyi brought the gavel down, her hand trembled slightly.
But she still let no one see the nervousness.
Not a single lot passed. Jiang Siyi carried her “White Glove” legend onward.
Wang Tai Tai gave a soft round of applause and told the agent beside her that next year she would continue her partnership with Jiashibi.
Backstage, Duan Ning had all but collapsed into a puddle, downing a tall glass of water in one go, as if she were the one who’d been up on that stage.
Wu Yilu pinched the back of her neck.
Duan Ning sucked in a breath. “Ow!”
Wu Yilu: “Perking you up. You’re on next.”
Moments from taking the podium for the second session, Duan Ning drew a deep breath.
Let’s go!
In the hall, Bo Ting slowly leaned back in her seat and discovered her spine had gone stiff.
Beneath the still surface, her heart was resonating hard with Jiang Siyi’s professional mastery.
She hadn’t felt a shock like that in a long time.
She gazed for a long time at the young woman on that stage — envied by so many, yet never boastful, her eyes always limpid.
This wasn’t just auctioneering. It was something close to an artist’s power to move.
Bo Ting was certain now: Jiang Siyi was not, as those people claimed, a pretty shell stuffed with nothing, propped up by resources.
Her ear was bothering her a little; Bo Ting was reaching up to take the hearing aid out when she heard three Jiashibi colleagues standing by the door snickering softly.
“Quite the glory days for Out-of-season Haute Couture — oh, pardon me, ahead-of-season Haute Couture now.”
“Why bother with all this pageantry? Just sell it through private treaty. A small goal, that’s all — it’s not as if the Lin family can’t afford it.”
“What would you people know? She’s after this year’s Global Emerging Auctioneer title.”
“The rich people’s world — way beyond our pay grade.”
The three of them drank and laughed — then suddenly sensed an icy gaze sweep over them.
It was Bo Ting.
Bo Ting rose and walked straight through their midst.
They pretended nothing had happened and drank with heads bowed.
Bo Ting: “Gossip is the only skill trash ever masters.”
The three: …
She dropped that line — the one that lodged in their chests, choking them — and walked off without once looking back at their impotent, sputtering fury.
Out of the auction hall, the cold wind lifted Bo Ting’s always-loose long hair.
She paced a little, then decided to send Jiang Siyi a text anyway.
Jiang Siyi had just returned to the lounge, accepting the hot drink Wu Yilu handed her, when her phone began to buzz.
A flood of congratulatory messages had come in — among them, a text from an unknown number.
【Bo Ting. Talk? Back door.】
A few terse words — and an unexpected hope rose in Jiang Siyi’s heart.
Her dealings with Bo Ting had been about the search for the jade pendant, nothing else.
Could it be — she’d agreed?
Jiang Siyi threw on her coat at once and headed for the back door.
It was indeed as she hoped.
Bo Ting had refused Jiang Siyi before because she’d taken her for a product inflated by resources — a bias, of a sort.
Having watched her Autumn Auction from beginning to end today, something had moved in her; a conversation with herself turned up jealousy at work, a certain narrowness of spirit.
She wanted to wait for Jiang Siyi to arrive, add her as a contact, send over pictures of the pendant.
Off the podium she was a woman of few words; agreeing to help Jiang Siyi find that jade pendant was her silent apology for all the hostility before.
The deserted back door offered only gusts of cold wind.
Bo Ting’s phone-holding hand had gone numb with cold; she kept it buried in her pocket.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
She turned — and it was not Jiang Siyi she saw, but…
“Why did you sneak off to that woman’s auction? You never used to do this…”
The Crazy Woman stood in the frigid night wind, advancing on Bo Ting step by step.
“You really are trying to throw me away.”
When Bo Ting saw the tear-streaks covering her face, she closed her eyes for a moment, then said, evenly:
“We’ll talk at home.”
The other woman wound herself around her, and heedless of the open air, forced a kiss onto her cold lips.
Bo Ting frowned and turned her face away, trying to escape the kiss.
Once again her hair was seized, her face wrenched back.
A flush of pain surfaced on Bo Ting’s face.
Behind the lenses, her cold eyes glimmered faintly wet.
“Don’t do this to me.”
The Abusive Woman, absurdly, was the one wronged to the core, her weeping face twisting harder with every deep breath.
“How dare you throw me away — don’t even think it… If it weren’t for you, I’d never have become this. Bo Ting, for the rest of your life you’ll look at me and only me, love me and only me. Even the face you make when you’re humiliated belongs to me alone — do you understand?!”
In the struggle, the hearing aid in Bo Ting’s right ear was ripped away; her glasses fell — and were deliberately ground to pieces underfoot.
Nearsighted to the point of blindness, unable to hear a thing, Bo Ting could only let that hand close around her throat.
Her slender neck was on the verge of being crushed again when a figure swung in front of her and pulled her behind its back.
The clear woman’s voice she’d heard at the auction reached her left ear, muffled, as if through layer upon layer of packed cotton.
It was Jiang Siyi.
The person shielding her was Jiang Siyi.
Jiang Siyi had never imagined she would walk into something like this.
On pure panicked instinct she covered the weaker Bo Ting and asked:
“Teacher Bo — who is this person?”
Before Bo Ting could open her mouth, the other woman’s venomous gaze locked dead onto Jiang Siyi, and she shrieked, hysterical:
“Don’t touch my wife!”
The scream stabbed Jiang Siyi’s eardrums with pain.
Wife?
Teacher Bo is married? Then this is — domestic violence…
The Crazy Woman pulled a stun baton from her pocket and drove it toward Jiang Siyi.
Zhou Ni, who had already broken into a run, saw a figure closing in fast — and fell back.
The Crazy Woman had taken a single step when her hair was seized and she was wrenched two whole steps backward.
The force of it was far heavier than any yank she’d ever given Bo Ting’s hair — it felt as if her entire scalp might be torn away.
The wrist holding the stun baton was clamped in an overwhelming grip; in terror the Crazy Woman twisted her head around and met a pair of terrifying, frigid eyes.
“Trash that hurts my wife — how do you even have the face to keep living.”
Lin Ji flipped the stun baton around and drove it savagely into her.
The author has something to say:
Lin Ji: Wife-pampering, Step 41 — when my wife’s claws aren’t sharp enough, I do the scratching.
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