Chapter 1215 - The Struggle
The moment Sonia Lily Shapur stepped onto the stage, she piqued the buyers' interest. Before the auctioneer had even finished announcing the start of bidding, Lin Hanlong lightly waved his cigar. To his great alarm, the transmigrators waiting for this girl numbered not just two—himself and Dongmen—nor even three or four as he had estimated, but a full ten!
While He Fanghui was still incrementing the bids by twenty-five per gesture, Dongmen Chuiyu impatiently extended his right hand with all five fingers spread. Five hundred circulation notes! That instantly doubled the bid. Lin Hanlong didn't hesitate—he extended his right hand with thumb and pinky spread, signaling six: six hundred circulation notes!
Who's afraid of whom! Dongmen Chuiyu turned to glance at Lin Hanlong, then extended his thumb and index finger at a right angle. Eight hundred circulation notes! But turning his head had cost him a moment—the eight hundred bid had already been called by someone else. It was Yu Eshui from the Grand Library!
Never expected you, with your honest face, to also be interested in big foreign mares, Lin Hanlong thought, waving his cigar again.
"Eight hundred fifty!"
Sonia's price soared from two hundred yuan upward. In just a few minutes it surpassed the previous record of twelve hundred yuan. The venue grew lively; many whispered among themselves, some faces showing excitement.
After that price, only three transmigrators continued this fierce competition. Lin Hanlong, Dongmen Chuiyu, and Yu Eshui were practically biting at each other's heels, adding fifty at a time. Soon the bid reached eighteen hundred yuan.
After the price exceeded two thousand, Yu Eshui dropped out, leaving Lin Hanlong and Dongmen Chuiyu to intensify their battle. Finally, the price soared to twenty-five hundred yuan. Even the transmigrators present thought this was excessive—some began shaking their heads, others murmuring quietly. Beads of sweat appeared on He Fanghui's forehead; he feared some kind of "political incident" might erupt.
"Twenty-five hundred!" He Fanghui shouted. "Twenty-five hundred! Does anyone else want to bid?!"
Dongmen Chuiyu leaned forward, expression twisted, eyes fixed on the golden-haired girl on stage. He himself didn't notice, but the transmigrators at his table had all shifted their seats slightly, subtly putting distance between themselves and him. At this point each bid increment was fifty circulation notes, and it had already reached twenty-eight hundred. Dongmen Chuiyu ground his teeth until they cracked. He suddenly raised three fingers of his right hand toward the stage: three thousand circulation notes!
The whole room fell silent. What did three thousand circulation notes mean? The transmigrators' accounts certainly held far more than that, but to prevent the auction from spiraling out of control, the Government Office had stipulated that tonight each transmigrator could only access three thousand circulation notes from their savings accounts for the auction—beyond that, without someone to front cash, this was the limit. By naturalized citizen income standards, an ordinary worker earned less than a hundred circulation notes per month, enough to support a family of four. Three thousand notes would take over three years of going without food or drink.
For this reason, the naturalized workers at the auction were not only few in number but entirely composed of maids under the Government Office's direct control, ensuring the entire auction process and contents remained confidential.
Lin Hanlong's heart skipped a beat. He didn't have much cash on hand—if he continued bidding, he had room for only another seven or eight hundred. His previously confident feeling vanished. But there was no time for deliberation—he immediately called out thirty-one hundred.
"Three thousand five hundred!" Dongmen Chuiyu jumped ahead, apparently trying to crush him outright.
"Three thousand six hundred!" Lin Hanlong was starting to lose confidence—his total cash was only eight hundred, meaning he could bid at most thirty-eight hundred.
"Four thousand!"
A buzz of commotion swept through the room. Lin Hanlong was utterly frustrated—he hadn't expected Dongmen Chuiyu to be this stubborn! And with so much cash on hand! He was just a military-industrial otaku who had worked in commerce and now sat in the General Staff office—what could he possibly have in common with a science-otaku girl! As "Four thousand, going once... going twice..." was about to become "going three times," he suddenly felt someone poking his arm. He turned to see Speaker Qian Shuiting. Qian Shuiting said nothing—just slapped his own admission ticket into Lin Hanlong's hand. Lin Hanlong's spirits surged; he immediately raised his hand to signal an objection.
On stage, He Fanghui had just raised his hammer, about to declare the third call and strike. This stopped him cold. He hadn't expected anyone to continue bidding after the limit was reached.
"Very well, I understand. Please wait a moment." The auctioneer signaled a naturalized worker beside him to hurry over and inquire. The room immediately buzzed with whispers. Lin Hanlong saw the golden-haired girl standing behind the auctioneer still looking completely unconcerned, hands behind her back, eyes roaming everywhere. This girl is quite interesting!
The worker walked over to Lin Hanlong, examined the two admission tickets, exchanged a few words with Qian Shuiting, then turned and walked back to the stage to whisper to the auctioneer. The auctioneer nodded.
"Sir, your bid is valid. The current bid is forty-five hundred circulation notes!" By auction rules, above one thousand the increment was one hundred. To continue bidding now meant sparring with Lin Hanlong for several hundred more notes—possibly even over a thousand—requiring substantial accumulated savings. At twenty-five hundred no one had stepped up to compete; at forty-five hundred there would be even fewer challengers.
"Forty-five hundred, going once!"
Dongmen Chuiyu's face contorted. He grabbed the transmigrator next to him: "Brothers! Does anyone still have an unused admission ticket?!"
"Forty-five hundred, going twice!"
Everyone at the table shook their heads. They were sitting in the front row—they had all come determined to get a big foreign mare. After all these rounds of auction, everyone had succeeded. By the rules, one auction opportunity per person; winners had to hand their tickets to staff for processing. Who still had one now? Going to find someone else would take too long.
"Forty-five hundred, going three!" Bang—the hammer fell. Dongmen Chuiyu slumped dejectedly in his seat. The room erupted in scattered applause.
Lin Hanlong handed both admission tickets to the worker, then turned to find Qian Shuiting, but he had already left. Unable to spot Qian Shuiting's figure in the darkness, Lin Hanlong gave a thumbs-up toward the crowd, nodded, then walked over to Dongmen Chuiyu and patted his shoulder.
"Brother Dongmen, I owe you one this time. I hear there'll be another batch later this year—I'll give you my quota then, how about it?"
Marina had watched this scene tensely. Though she didn't understand Chinese, she could tell from the atmosphere that these people had fought fiercely over Sonia. That's good, she thought. They value her so much—they surely won't mistreat her.
Marina was the last to be brought out for auction. She was led to the stage, and a maid indicated she should stand in the auction position—where the lights were brightest, allowing every detail to be seen clearly.
"Doña Marina de Arellano. Spanish. Nineteen years old. Noble birth! Measurements..." Someone loudly read out the display board contents.
He Fanghui began calling for bids:
"Starting at two hundred."
"Three hundred." Dongmen Chuiyu bid again.
Someone raised the price, but Dongmen Chuiyu immediately followed: "Five hundred!"—adding by the hundred as if venting frustration.
The room fell silent. Marina looked at Leib Trini and saw he had no intention of opening his mouth.
"Six hundred!" Another bidder immediately jumped in.
Though Marina wasn't the golden-haired, blue-eyed type the transmigrators favored most, her distinctive Latin beauty and noble birth sparked another round of fierce bidding. The price quickly shot up to one thousand, and bidders noticeably thinned. That's when Leib Trini joined the competition:
"Twelve hundred circulation notes!"
Dongmen Chuiyu immediately called fifteen hundred. Then another transmigrator joined the bidding—Xiao Bailang.
He Fanghui found this strange. Throughout today's auction, Xiao Bailang—notorious as a big foreign mare enthusiast—hadn't bid once. Could he have had his eye on this Spanish girl all along?
"Eighteen hundred!"
The room quieted. Marina looked at the dark-skinned man with muscular arms and saw his eyes gleaming with cruelty and contempt, full of lustful desire. At the thought of what fate awaited her in such a master's hands, she felt her blood run cold.
"Two thousand!" Trini's voice broke the silence.
"Twenty-one hundred." Dongmen Chuiyu immediately followed.
"Twenty-two hundred!" Xiao Bailang sneered. "I want to let her savor what a Chinese man tastes like." His gaze fell upon Marina as if already stripping off her clothes.
"Twenty-three hundred!" Trini's bidding gesture had begun to tremble. Marina knew this price already exceeded his means.
"Twenty-five hundred!" Dongmen Chuiyu bid stubbornly.
Another buzz of discussion swept through the room. Marina looked pleadingly at the Italian, who was now sweating profusely, his face dark.
"Twenty-eight hundred."
Marina shuddered with alarm and quickly looked at Mr. Trini—he remained silent. This was far beyond his resources. After a long hesitation, the Italian raised his hand with the expression of a martyr.
"Someone bids three thousand circulation notes! Three thousand circulation notes!" He Fanghui called loudly. "Does anyone else want to bid?"
Xiao Bailang rose calmly and called out himself: "Three thousand five hundred circulation notes!"
"Thirty-five hundred! Anyone else want to bid?"
He Fanghui's gavel hung suspended in mid-air, his arm seemingly frozen. Everyone stared with wide eyes, waiting for the decisive hammer to fall.
"Thirty-five hundred, going once! Thirty-five hundred, going twice!..."
(End of Chapter)