Chapter 180: The Ebony Box
Ryder Clark was momentarily taken aback when he heard that.
Who would have thought that Dylan had such an impressive secret identity?
No wonder he wielded so much clout at Platan Heights and could decide who got to stay and who got booted from the Villas.
And he had offered Ryder a gold membership card so easily!
Still, Ryder Clark was curious. "If Dylan’s got such a powerful background, why is he sticking around here in Houston? He could be making big moves in the state capital."
Nathan shook his head, admitting, "That, I don’t know, but thanks to my old man, I’ve known Dylan for years. Trust me, he's solid. It wouldn't hurt to get on his good side in the future."
Ryder Clark nodded in agreement.
Click.
Suddenly, the lights in the auction hall dimmed.
A spotlight illuminated the auction stage.
Then, a shapely woman dressed in a revealing, sexy outfit took to the podium, greeting the attendees.
She started by warming up the crowd with her professional hosting prowess.
Without further delay, she announced the start of the auction.
"First up for bid tonight is a Qing Dynasty blue and white porcelain bowl, starting at $30,000..."
"I bid $30,000!"
"I'll raise to $35,000!"
"$40,000, coming this way, please!"
"..."
Ryder Clark peered through the glass of the private booth, watching the lively interaction between the auctioneer and the crowd below.
He couldn't help but murmur softly, "This auction is way more buzzing than I expected. The first item is already getting so much love!"
At that moment, Nathan chimed in. "You know, Ryder, what you see is just for show. Every auction house has its unspoken rules. They always have plants in the crowd to drive the bids up! Take this place, for instance, I'd bet there are at least twenty shills mingling around, and they're good at what they do."
"So that's the game," Ryder realized, a lightbulb flicking on in his head.
He had heard rumors of plants at auctions before. After all, auctions were a commercial endeavor, and chasing profit inevitably meant employing all sorts of tactics—it made sense.
The fierce bidding continued unabated.
An hour flew by, with twelve lots making their appearance. Eight sold, and four went unsold. The star of the show was a statue of Christ that fetched a final bid of $1.8 million, scooped up by Nathan himself. His mother was a devout Christian who loved to collect various statues. Though the actual value of the statue might have been closer to $1.5 million, he didn't mind spending the extra $300,000. After all, money wasn't an issue for him.
The female auctioneer then spoke up, "Our next item is, without a doubt, one of the most peculiar I've ever come across. Let me show you why."
An assistant approached, bearing a tray with the next item: a square, black wooden box that barely stretched over four inches on each side. Simple, jet black, and with no intricate patterns, its only distinguishing feature seemed to be its apparent age.
"Don't underestimate this little black box," the auctioneer said. "It was crafted from ebony, the king of woods!"
What is ebony? Commonly known as blackwood, it's a precious timber, buried underground for hundreds of thousands of years, eventually transforming into a coveted material, often referred to as the 'wood of the Gods.'
An old saying went, "A box of gold is worth less than a chunk of blackwood."
That underscored the value of the ebony.
Recognizing the significance, a voice from the audience asked, "What's inside the box? Can you open it to show us?"
The auctioneer responded with a wry smile, "The mystery of the item is exactly why it's peculiar. We can't open the box! Many have tried different methods, to no avail. What's inside is a mystery—it could be a treasure map, it could be jewelry, or it could just be an empty box."
A heckler from the crowd shouted, "I don't believe it can't be opened! Bring an ax up here and we'll split it open right now!"
The auctioneer's laughter filled the room. "If that gentleman wins the bid, I'll look forward to seeing his live performance!"
A wave of hearty laughter swept through the audience.
Without further ado, she continued, "Let's not waste words, folks. The opening bid for this wooden box has been set at fifty thousand dollars! Let the bidding begin!"
Clusters of attendees began murmuring among themselves.
"Do you think that wooden box is worth the investment?"
"Ha! It’s worth squat! Sure, its genuine ebony, but a box this small? If you got an identical one made, it would cost you no more than twenty grand tops!"
"But what if there's treasure inside?"
"What are you dreaming about? This is clearly a marketing ploy by Wisteria Pavillion to drive up the price. Besides, if it really contained treasure, would it look so ordinary? There’s not even a single pattern on it!"
"Good point! I'm out then!"
"..."
Thus, no one in the room made a move to bid.
Just as the auctioneer was about to declare the item unsold, a voice suddenly rang out, "I bid fifty thousand!"
All eyes turned toward the source of the sound.
There, in the VIP box, someone raised a paddle!
It was Ryder Clark!
‘Someone's actually buying this thing?’
‘Is that guy nuts?’
That was what everyone was thinking.
Of course, they had no idea just how stunned Ryder had been the moment he laid eyes on the ebony box.
He had seen that box before!
It was back when he was just a kid, at a gathering of the Jones family in New York. Despite being neglected due to his father's status as an in-law, and having endured countless slights, Pas a member of the Jones clan, he attended some of the major family gatherings.
He vividly remembered, at the age of eight, the 60th birthday celebration for the Jones family patriarch.
A guest had presented a gift.
That gift was an ebony box—not large, pitch-black, and without any pattern.
When the Jones family patriarch saw the box, he stood up excitedly, as if he had been greeted by a priceless treasure.
He even invited that guest to join him at the main table, a place of honor.
Some of the other gifts were worth millions—priceless antiques and calligraphy— but the patriarch had barely glanced at them.
Yet his attitude was different for this ebony box.
It was peculiar indeed.
And so, even after more than a decade, Ryder Clark had never been able to forget it.
Ryder was not certain whether the box on the stage had any connection to the one Mr. Han had cherished all those years ago, and he wasn’t sure what was so special about this ebony box, but intuition screamed at him not to let it go.
As the auctioneer was about to declare that the ebony box had been sold to Ryder Clark, a new voice suddenly cut through the crowd. “I’ll bid $600,000!”