The Bodyguard and the Sidekick Want In

"With a business as big as yours, Mr. Qiao, and your love of antiques, of course a junior like me knows who you are," Zhang Yang said, using antiques to establish a connection.

Qiao Jin smiled faintly. It was true: thanks to his interest in antiques, many people in the trade knew his name.

Antiques were also how Qiao Jin had come to know of Zhang Yang. Impressed by Zhang Yang's performance just now, he said a little more.

"It's rare to find someone your age who likes antiques and has the nerve to compete with foreigners. What's your name?" Qiao Jin studied him.

Zhang Yang's clothes were so ordinary that nothing about him stood out. People could see him and forget him the moment they turned away. The saying about clothes making the man existed for a reason.

"Zhang Yang," he answered honestly. He had never hidden his name, not even from his enemies.

They chatted a while longer, then parted when it grew late.

Chang Wu had earned Zhang Yang's trust, so they rode together. After such a successful night, Zhang Yang decided to celebrate.

Chang Wu had stepped in and helped Zhang Yang sell the Bronze Zun. Zhang Yang wasn't ungrateful; he intended to give him something for it. It just had to be appropriate. Throwing more money at him would be so crass.

They went for a late-night meal. Zhang Yang didn't have much to say. With a thousand years of experience behind him, he saw Jiao Long and Chang Wu as juniors. Talking to them was like an adult talking to three-year-olds.

Jiao Long, though, was thrilled. He had spent five million on a Hainan Rosewood Square Table.

He hadn't bought the table purely as an investment. He liked it, so he bought it.