Urban Villain: The Game of Wealth and Women

{Chapter: 284 Heartbeat! Added Value!}

Hearing Ge Yuanshan's offer of 80 million yuan, the entire hall fell into a stunned silence.

The sheer weight of that number lingered in the air, and everyone instinctively turned their eyes toward Lin Yuan. It wasn't every day that one saw such an astronomical offer—especially not for a single piece of freshly written calligraphy.

As was well-known, Ge Yuanshan was not only a master calligrapher himself but also a passionate collector of rare and distinguished works of calligraphy. He had built one of the most respected private collections in the region, and many of the exhibits at the current showcase bore his name as the collector.

Though he always held a public demonstration of calligraphy at these exhibitions, it had been many years since he had been genuinely moved by someone else's work—especially someone so young.

Typically, his acquisitions leaned toward time-honored classics: works by masters long passed whose names were etched into history. And yet, upon witnessing Lin Yuan's flowing, cursive style—bold yet refined, chaotic yet harmonious—Ge Yuanshan felt a rare spark of excitement stir in his heart.

So rare was this feeling that he had not hesitated to offer a sky-high price of eighty million yuan for the piece Lin Yuan had just written.

Not eighty thousand, but eighty million.

Just a few lines of calligraphy had stirred up an offer that most people would never see in a lifetime.

"This… is absurd. Eighty million?!"

"Is that a joke? Eighty million yuan?!"

"Master Ge must've had a few drinks before coming here... right?"

Whispers spread like wildfire across the venue. The crowd was a mix of startled silence and vocal disbelief. The majority couldn't wrap their heads around the valuation.

Even famous calligraphers whose careers spanned decades rarely commanded such a price for one piece of work. And yet, Lin Yuan had written these words in under a minute—no preparation, no adjustments—just a single smooth display of talent.

Was it really worth that much?

To most of the onlookers, it seemed outrageous.

However, a smaller group—those well-versed in the art of calligraphy and Chinese culture—began nodding subtly. For those who understood the depth of Lin Yuan's style, the price, while shocking, wasn't completely unjustified.

Though it lacked the historicity of ancient scripts, the technique, spirit, and beauty of Lin Yuan's calligraphy embodied something rarely seen: a natural, instinctive brilliance that even seasoned veterans struggled to achieve.

Still, eighty million was a staggering number, and envy bubbled up throughout the room.

Yet, Lin Yuan's response was the true shock of the night.

Faced with an offer that could change most people's lives, Lin Yuan simply smiled and said, "I'm sorry, Old Master Ge. I truly appreciate your appreciation… but I wrote this piece for a friend. I'm afraid I can't sell it."

A simple, calm refusal.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

"He refused…?! Did I hear that right?!"

"Eighty million yuan—gone! Just like that?!"

"He must have gold mines back home! Who turns down a fortune like that for a friend?!"

People's jaws dropped. The disbelief doubled, not at the price, but at Lin Yuan's casual rejection.

Yet amidst the confusion, a few bystanders began to piece things together.

"I think… I think he wrote it for that beautiful young lady earlier."

"Oh right, the girl who gave him that handmade script earlier! He must be returning the gesture."

"Ah, I get it now. It's not about the money. It's a declaration of the heart."

"Well, my heart just got crushed. He wrote something worth eighty million for his girl. I'd be happy just getting a coffee text."

"And I thought I was romantic once for buying flowers…"

Jealous sighs and exaggerated groans followed, but even those wrapped in envy had to admit—it was deeply moving.

The air seemed filled with a kind of bittersweet admiration, or as some joked, the strong scent of "lemon essence"—a playful way to describe the jealousy in the room.

At that moment, Lin Yuan slowly walked over to Chi Qian.

Holding the rice paper gently in both hands, he smiled warmly and said, "This is in return for the gift you gave me earlier. It's a cursive script, a little wild and spontaneous. I hope you don't mind."

Chi Qian, whose calm demeanor had barely shifted throughout the night, looked up at him with slightly widened eyes. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she accepted the delicate rice paper.

"I don't mind… not at all," she replied softly.

There was a trace of unmistakable joy in her voice, subtle yet full of emotion. Her usually composed heart stirred with something warm and fluttering.

In truth, the value of a gift is not always in the monetary amount it commands.

A diamond is, scientifically speaking, just a piece of compressed carbon—but add symbolism, cultural meaning, and human sentiment, control and it becomes one of the most desired objects on Earth.

Likewise, a scarf knitted by a mother long passed away, a pair of worn sneakers gifted by a hardworking father, or an amulet passed down from a grandmother—all may be seen as simple items, but to the person receiving them, they become irreplaceable treasures.

It is emotion, history, intention—these are what imbue a thing with true worth.

In that moment, as Chi Qian stared at Lin Yuan's calligraphy, she understood this completely.

It may seem like just an ordinary piece of rice paper, but in truth, it carried with it something priceless—Lin Yuan's masterful calligraphy, inscribed with a poem that he had crafted specifically for Chi Qian. Her name was elegantly embedded in the verse, an artistic fusion of skill and sentiment.

What made it even more astonishing was the fact that Lin Yuan had just turned down an astronomical offer of 80 million yuan. He didn't hesitate, didn't consider the money for even a moment.

While for both Lin Yuan and Chi Qian, 80 million yuan wasn't a life-altering sum—given their backgrounds and resources—it was still a considerable amount by any standard. Yet what made the piece so valuable wasn't just the beauty of the calligraphy or the quality of the rice paper. It was the thought, the intention, the emotion behind it. It was a personal gift from Lin Yuan to Chi Qian, and that made it irreplaceable.

And for Chi Qian, that made all the difference.

Though she had originally given him a gift, she hadn't expected anything in return—certainly not something of this magnitude. Despite her usual calm, reserved demeanor, something within her stirred. A soft turbulence, like ripples on a still lake, danced through her heart.

Chi Qian was no longer in her usual teasing, composed state. Her walls were being gently breached.

It was all a part of Lin Yuan's plan, of course—but it was working.

She realized she couldn't run from the feelings welling up inside her. She couldn't mask them with poise. And in this moment, she didn't want to.

"Thank you, Brother Lin Yuan. Your handwriting is truly beautiful. And the poem... I really like it. Thank you," Chi Qian said softly, her voice slightly breathy, her smile brimming with sincerity.

It was rare for her to express herself so openly. Usually, her face bore a gentle, unreadable expression. But now, the corners of her lips curved upward into a radiant smile. Her eyes, shaped like crescent moons, sparkled with joy and emotion.

She looked stunning. Absolutely stunning.

Lin Yuan, staring at her exquisite smile, felt his heart skip a beat. He found himself glancing at her again and again, unable to look away.

He let out a small sigh before replying with a warm smile of his own. "It's nothing much. Just a gift in return."

[Ding! Chi Qian's favorability +5! Reward: 5,000 counterattack points!]

A system prompt chimed quietly in Lin Yuan's mind just as he finished speaking.

Another five points. Another big reward. He was quite pleased with the result.

Chi Qian's smile grew even brighter when she saw Lin Yuan watching her with that gentle expression. She clutched the rice paper close to her chest, her heartbeat quickening.

It was in this simple exchange that something meaningful passed between them.

Unspoken feelings. Unspoken hopes.

Though neither of them would say it aloud, they both knew—Chi Qian had lost this round. Again.

But in this little emotional game of theirs, maybe there weren't any real winners or losers. Maybe both had surrendered a little piece of their hearts to the other.

While the two of them stood there quietly, gazing at each other with a depth of feeling, an unexpected voice broke the moment.

"Qian Qian, let me take a look too! I want to see the ghost symbols my cousin scribbled," said Yu Shanshan as she popped up out of nowhere and reached out her hand.

Chi Qian and Lin Yuan both laughed softly at Yu Shanshan's comment.

In the eyes of someone like her, who knew little about cursive calligraphy, Lin Yuan's artistic handwriting probably did look like mysterious ghost talismans.

Nevertheless, Chi Qian handed the rice paper over.

Yu Shanshan took the piece and stared at it with furrowed brows, doing her best to decipher the strokes. Even though she couldn't read a single word, she remained captivated. There was a certain charm in the lines, a kind of flowing power that drew the eye—even for someone who didn't understand calligraphy.

She tried to remember what Chi Qian had said earlier—that her name was included in the poem.

Softly, she muttered the lines to herself, "The mist and light rain are like smoke, and The Painted Boat in the pond, smoke in the shallow…"

Then, puffing up with pride, she announced, "Brother Lin Yuan, your writing really is impressive. I mean, obviously. Don't forget that when we were kids and I helped you practice calligraphy, I even skipped lunch just to teach you! You've improved thanks to me!"

She shamelessly tried to take credit for Lin Yuan's talent.

Without missing a beat, Lin Yuan reached out and pinched her cheek gently. "You again? First it was piano, then singing, now you're saying you taught me calligraphy too? Do you want me to pay you tuition or something? Huh?"

Yu Shanshan pouted, her cheek squished between his fingers. "Okay, okay! It's all good! Just don't pinch me too hard, or my face will swell up and my future wives won't want me anymore. You'll be responsible!"

She rubbed her cheek and added honestly, "I admit it—your poem is really something. And the fact that it includes Qian Qian's name makes it even more special."

Satisfied with her words, Lin Yuan finally let go.

Chi Qian watched their playful banter with a faint smile tugging at her lips. The scene was warm, familiar, and full of life.

Then Yu Shanshan turned to Chi Qian with a mischievous grin and declared, "Actually, Qian Qian, I want to say—it's really not easy for Brother Lin Yuan to compose a poem that includes your name so naturally. So... I came prepared too!"

She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with exaggerated flair.

"I made a poem too—with your name in it! Want to hear it?" she asked with a wink.

*****

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