Truly a reincarnated butterfly, radiating charm wherever she goes.
Qiuyun's expression remained calm.
She was equally experienced in dealing with playboys of his ilk.
Just like last time, she let him know she wasn't like other women who would easily fall for his tricks or play his games. With that kind of meaningless flirtation, the frequency would naturally drop.
A veteran of the dating game wasn't a greenhorn. Once he realized you weren't easy to win over, he'd simply cut his losses, aiming to charm as many women as possible in the shortest time. He wouldn't waste energy on a tough bone to gnaw.
"We really do keep running into each other—who knew selling a bracelet would bring me face to face with family," Qiuyun said with a smile. "I do hope Young Master Jiang won't lowball me just because we have a connection, or I won't dare come back here to sell again."
Rebuffed lightly but firmly, Jiang Yifeng clicked his tongue twice. Playing games with a smart woman was exhausting—she could always twist everything back to business.
"Alright, I'll make sure they give you a fair price."
With everyone assembled, the bracelet disassembly began.
To ensure perfect restoration, six cameras were positioned at the left, right, front, overhead, chest level, and beneath the glass plate.
Every angle was covered.
The master craftsman picked up his tools and went to work.
The two stood a short distance away, and Jiang Yifeng idly remarked, "I heard you found this at a street stall? Or was it a freebie thrown in when you bought that jade bi?"
Hmm?
His intelligence network was pretty sharp.
"Yeah, I had karma with this bracelet." Qiuyun stared at the live feed on the wall-mounted TV.
"..."
Jiang Yifeng went quiet.
Inside the workroom, sweat beaded on the master craftsman's forehead.
Taking it apart wasn't hard.
What was hard was preserving every tiny component intact.
Fortunately, the craftsman was highly experienced with Lu Ban locks, and after half an hour, he successfully opened the bracelet and placed the paper strip inside into a constant temperature and humidity chamber set at 20°C and 55% relative humidity.
The paper, over a thousand years old, was brittle and stiff, and needed moisture and warmth to restore a bit of flexibility before it could be unrolled.
Ten minutes later.
With tweezers, the craftsman carefully unrolled it. When he saw the contents, he froze in disbelief for a moment, then quickly photographed the text.
Qiuyun took the iPad handed over by a staff member, showing what the craftsman had just captured:
To my beloved Yaoniang:
Suiyang's grain is spent, our rescue has failed, and the city's fall is imminent. I know my death is certain, so I leave this letter of divorce, hoping that in the latter half of your life, you may keep far from the flames of war, and know peace and joy—like the spring streams of Jiangnan, flowing long through the years.
I have wronged you in this life; I only ask that you take care.
May my soul become the wind over Suiyang, guarding you from afar.
— Jiyun's final words.
Times of war pressed urgent, and the paper was small.
Just seventy-five characters, yet they captured farewells too numerous to tell.
After wishing her peace, he couldn't bring himself to end the letter without adding wishes for her to take care.
After wishing her to take care, he added one more line in the margin: hoping that even after his death, he might stand a distant watch over Yaoniang's safety.
This letter of divorce left one achingly wistful...
"Jiyun, Suiyang." Jiang Yifeng handed over his phone with the search results. "This is the historical figure I found related to it."
Qiuyun snapped back to attention, took the phone, and read carefully.
#
Nan Jiyun (c. 729–757 AD), a native of Dungqiu, Weizhou (modern-day Qingfeng, Henan), was a general under the famous Tang dynasty commander Zhang Xun during Emperor Suzong's reign, known for his ferocity in battle.
During the An Lushan Rebellion, he and Zhang Xun held the city of Suiyang (modern-day Shangqiu, Henan), the gateway to Jianghuai. Faced with over a hundred thousand rebel troops besieging the city, Nan Jiyun led a suicide squad to break out and seek reinforcements, even cutting off his own finger to refuse surrender.
When the city ran out of food and eventually fell, Nan Jiyun was captured, refused the rebels' offer of amnesty, and was executed at just 28 years old.
Later generations praised him for "loyal courage and unyielding integrity." Han Yu once wrote in "Postscript to the Biography of Zhang Zhongcheng," extolling his deeds.
#
"Once carbon-14 dating confirms the paper dates to around 757 AD," Jiang Yifeng turned his head, "it's a parting letter from a famous general who died for his country during the An Lushan Rebellion, preserved untarnished and unopened—never even received by his wife, discovered by the world only a millennium later, a story of lasting regret."
Hearing this, Qiuyun, who had been lost in melancholy moments ago, now had to almost bite her lip to keep from smiling.
A story that tugs at the heartstrings, a relic from a Tang dynasty hero—boasting both a noble death for one's country and a tender farewell to a beloved wife. Men and women alike would be moved by this blend of grand and personal love.
This could easily fetch seven or eight figures at auction!
"Eight million. Do you sell?" Jiang Yifeng turned more serious and cut straight to an offer.
Qiuyun arched an eyebrow.
Eight million wasn't a lowball offer. In fact, it would skip the auction process entirely, saving her the auction house commission.
But...
These were the Jiangs—a merchant family that bought low and sold high, never at a loss.
If the bracelet had no real value, would Jiang Yifeng have offered such a price so readily?
Seeing Qiuyun hesitate, Jiang Yifeng said plainly: "Our auction house experts have appraised it. The bracelet plus the letter, at auction, might not fetch eight million. I'm only offering this because I genuinely like it, and since you're Little Seven's assistant, I'm counting you as family."
He emphasized: "Think it over carefully. This offer won't last forever."
Tsk.
Genuinely likes it?
Qiuyun leaned back against the cabinet behind her, tilting her head. "I never thought the young and carefree Mr. Jiang possessed the mettle to die for his country and a thread of tender melancholy."
"..."
Well then.
Jiang Yifeng could see it now: she was sharper than a hawk's eye!
"Fine." Unfazed by being caught out, he admitted, "I do have another plan for buying the bracelet and that letter, but business always carries risk. For a natural person like you without a corporate backer, taking a full buyout is far better than waiting for a percentage of profits after all the accounting is said and done."
Qiuyun raised her hand, gesturing for him to go on: "What plan? Enlighten me."
Jiang Yifeng: "..."
Tsk. He hated women he couldn't fool.
The two moved to another office, and Jiang Yifeng said outright: "I plan to turn this letter into viral content."
Huh?
He got straight to the point: "I'll use TV appearances, long-form video analyses, marketing accounts, and WeChat articles to spread the story behind it, stir up mass resonance, and then release a replica silver bracelet with a hidden storage compartment, bundled with a printed copy of the letter, retailing at 688 RMB."
Silver currently ran about five or six yuan per gram. A bracelet weighing roughly twenty-five grams could net four to five times the base cost. But this silver bracelet wasn't ordinary—the engravings were complexd, and there were various small components requiring production and assembly. The real selling point, though, was the cultural value behind it.
The 688 was mainly selling emotional value.
Qiuyun had reviewed the law and knew that as long as it wasn't deliberately aged to deceive, and clearly stated as a reproduction, such sales were allowed.
Jiang Yifeng asked: "So? Interested?"
"Definitely."
"Alright." For such a minor project, Jiang Yifeng couldn't spare much effort: "Assign the bracelet and the letter to me, and I'll give you one percentage point of revenue."
One percent?!
As the original owner supplying the artifact, the distributor, and the manufacturer had only offered her one measly percent!
"Think that's too low?" Jiang Yifeng asked.
Qiuyun smiled demurely: "It is rather little."
Compared to the thirty percent she got from DreamLore, it was a insult.
Damned capitalists!
