Chapter 185 The Empress Dowager rises! The countdown to the nuclear bomb sealed beneath the mud.
In the banquet hall, the laughter that had been buzzing like flies was suddenly cut off by an invisible blade.
The uncles and aunts who were just jumping the highest and shouting that they would throw the mud jar into the kitchen were now like roosters with their necks being choked.
Their faces flushed red, and they swallowed back the words they were about to say.
Song Wan's voice was not loud, and her speaking speed could even be described as gentle.
But these words carried an undeniable air of authority in the ears of the crowd.
In this dazzling arena of fame and fortune, Jiang Jianguo is the richest man in Beijing, a powerful figure in the business world.
But within the Jiang family, everyone knew that this professor from the History Department of Peking University was the true pillar of stability.
She usually keeps to herself and never gets involved in the group's business or in the social interactions among relatives.
But once the Empress Dowager speaks, even Jiang Jianguo has to obediently step aside.
If you anger her, even the richest man will have to kneel on a washboard when he gets home.
The collateral relatives looked at each other, exchanging glances.
Although they were wary of Song Wan's authority and obediently kept their mouths shut, their eyes betrayed a wealth of emotions.
There was still an undisguised disdain and sarcasm in it.
In their view, Song Wan's words were nothing more than an attempt to forcefully support her daughter.
In order to prevent Jiang Ruoyun from losing face in front of all the celebrities in the capital, the usually aloof Empress Dowager had no choice but to bite the bullet and save face for her poor son-in-law.
What is meant by the sedimentation of time?
Even if dragon meat were pickled inside a lump of yellow mud covered in dried grass, it wouldn't be worthy of this level of presentation!
This is nothing more than a fig leaf used by intellectuals to cover up their poverty.
Jiang Jianguo, sitting at the main table, secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
He almost lost his temper and was about to flip the table and yell at people.
Fortunately, my wife intervened in time and brought the situation under control.
But as he looked at the jar that was still dripping fine mud, his brows remained furrowed in a tight knot.
Jiang Jianguo was filled with doubt.
He had complete faith in Lin Mo's skills, but the packaging was really pushing the richest man's limits.
How can he boast to his old rivals now?
Just as the entire place fell into an eerie silence, Lin Mo made a move.
He ignored the malicious stares from those around him, his expression still one of nonchalant indifference, as if he wouldn't care even if the sky were to fall.
He turned slightly to the side and felt the soft little hand in his palm tightly gripping him.
Jiang Ruoyun was very close, with half of her body almost touching his arm.
She was wearing a well-tailored evening gown today, and should have looked like a dignified and elegant heiress.
At this moment, however, she resembled a little tiger guarding its food, slightly raising her snow-white chin and sharply scanning her relatives.
It was as if she would pounce on and bite anyone who dared to say another word.
A barely perceptible smile flickered in Lin Mo's eyes.
He turned his hand and completely enveloped the girl's slightly cool fingers in his large palm.
He gently rubbed the back of her hand twice with the pad of his thumb.
This is an extremely natural and reassuring gesture.
Jiang Ruoyun's previously tense shoulders instantly relaxed with this small movement.
She bit her lower lip, swallowing back the words of anger she had intended to utter.
Only a soft hum, audible only to the two of them, remained, carrying a sticky, dependent feel.
After calming his fiancée down, Lin Mo casually raised his free right hand.
He was holding the long, rolled-up object wrapped in old newspaper.
It wasn't held up carefully, nor was it deliberately displayed.
It's like buying a fried dough stick from a breakfast stall and casually putting it on the table.
"Clatter".
The Beijing Evening News, with its yellowed edges and even half-exposed "blind date" clippings, landed steadily on the rosewood table at the head of the table.
As luck would have it, it was right next to the 88-pound pure gold longevity peach that my aunt had given me.
One gold and one gray.
One is expensive, the other is cheap.
The visual contrast between the two items placed together is so strong as to be absurd.
Jiang Jianguo's eyelids twitched uncontrollably.
He stared intently at the rolled-up newspaper, his breathing becoming heavy.
Others may not know what's inside, but how could he not know?
Yesterday, he personally witnessed the imposing manner with which this young man wrote in Lin Mo's courtyard house.
If that calligraphy were put up for auction, it would definitely cause collectors to fight tooth and nail for it.
Even if you're unruly, you should at least buy a painting tube to put it in!
Half of the newspapers have now been spread out, with the words "Traditional Chinese Medicine Doctor Specializes in Treating Hair Loss" prominently displayed on them.
Jiang Jianguo felt a dull ache in his back molars.
How could he possibly have the nerve to boast to others that this was a priceless gift from his future son-in-law?
He glared at Lin Mo fiercely, his eyes filled with a resentful look that said, "You just wait."
Lin Mo, however, acted as if nothing had happened, and raised an eyebrow slightly at his father-in-law.
That calm gaze seemed to say: The goods have been delivered; how you handle the situation is your problem.
This self-righteous and defiant attitude almost made Jiang Jianguo suffer internal injuries from anger.
At this moment, Song Wan didn't bother to explain anything.
She stood gracefully before the table, every movement exuding the composure of a well-bred young lady.
She stretched out her hands and personally held up the dusty mud jar.
The jar was sealed tightly, and the outer layer was a thick layer of red clay. Due to its age, the surface had dried and cracked with fine lines.
Song Wan's fair fingers gently explored the rough edges of the mud seal.
She could feel the weight and solidity hidden beneath the soil.
She knows Lin Mo too well.
He doesn't care about appearances or formalities.
But every time he brings something out, he manages to precisely shatter everyone's preconceived notions.
Since he's willing to bring this jar of stuff to the birthday banquet today...
Beneath this mud lies a wealth of hard work that could awe the entire audience.
At this moment, in the VIP seats about ten meters away from the main table.
The atmosphere at this table was completely different from the noisy business people on the outside.
Sitting on the far left was an elderly man with gray hair, wearing a crisp Zhongshan suit.
The old man's name is Chen Ping, and he is a nationally recognized master of liquor tasting.
He was arrogant and had extremely discerning tastes.
Normally, at the dinner table, I only drink Maotai raw liquor that is over fifty years old.
Those expensive foreign wines that cost tens or hundreds of thousands of yuan don't even qualify for a place on his table.
He only came to sit down today because he gave Jiang Jianguo a huge favor.
While the relatives were mocking Lin Mo, Chen Ping had been resting with his eyes closed.
In his view, this was nothing more than a group of nouveau riche, tainted with the stench of money, putting on a monkey show, not worth his time.
but.
Just as Song Wan's fingers gently caressed the mud seal, causing the dried red mud to loosen slightly.
Chen Ping's nose suddenly twitched without warning.
That was an instinctive reaction belonging to a top wine taster.
His eyes, which had been closed, suddenly opened a crack.
His brows furrowed slightly, and a hint of doubt flashed in his eyes.
The hall was filled with the luxurious aromas of high-end perfumes, cigars, and various expensive dishes.
But beneath these strong flavors...
A very faint, almost wisp-like breath entered his nostrils.
The aura was so faint that ordinary people couldn't detect it at all.
But Chen Ping's body suddenly stiffened.
His hand holding the blue-and-white porcelain teacup froze in mid-air, and even his breathing slowed down.
He was like an old hunting dog that had caught the scent of its best prey, slowly stretching its neck forward an inch.
Another wisp of breath drifted over.
This time, it was a little clearer than before.
Chen Ping's pupils contracted violently in an instant!
His fingers, which were holding the teacup, began to tremble uncontrollably.
A few drops of scalding tea splashed onto the back of his hand, burning a patch of skin red, but he seemed to have completely lost the sense of pain.
"What...what is this taste?"
Chen Ping muttered to himself, his voice hoarse beyond belief.
He suddenly turned his head and stared intently at the broken mud jar in Song Wan's hand, ten meters away.
As a national treasure-level sommelier, his olfactory memory bank stores the flavors of almost all the world's famous wines.
But he swore he had never smelled such a peculiar fragrance in his life.
It doesn't have the pungent alcohol smell of modern industrial distilled spirits.
It also lacks the thin, cloying sweetness of ordinary fermented wine.
It was a profound weight that seemed to have traversed hundreds of years and countless seasons before finally settling down.
It was only one-thousandth of the odor that seeped out from the cracks sealed by the mud.
This alone made Chen Ping, a connoisseur who had been drinking Moutai for fifty years, break out in a cold sweat!
Sitting next to him was Zhou Yang, a master carpenter, who took in Chen Ping's reaction.
Zhou Yang picked up his teacup to cover the smile on his lips, his eyes filled with anticipation for a good show.
He was all too familiar with the rule that anything produced by Lin Mo was guaranteed to be a masterpiece.
The most exciting part of today's performance is about to begin.
In front of the main table.
Song Wan, of course, did not notice the commotion in the VIP section.
Her attention was entirely focused on the jar in her hand.
To avoid soiling her Suzhou-embroidered cheongsam, she leaned slightly forward.
Then, she turned to look at the waiter next to her.
"Bring me a screwdriver."
Song Wan's voice was calm, yet it carried an irresistible power.
The waiter paused for a moment, then quickly handed over a sterling silver wine opener from the tray.
The relatives around them dared not make any more sarcastic remarks.
But everyone craned their necks and stared wide-eyed.
They were just waiting to see what kind of cheap, bulk liquor was inside the mud jar, so they could laugh at it in their hearts.
Song Wan took the screwdriver without hesitation.
She aimed the sharp tip at the thickest part of the mud seal edge.
With a slight force applied to the wrist, press downwards.
"Click".
A crisp, dry cracking sound suddenly rang out in the quiet banquet hall.
Covering this earthenware jar is a thick red clay seal that has been dormant for three months.
It shattered instantly!
Several pieces of dried yellow clay rolled down the side of the jar and landed on the sandalwood table with a dull thud.
The moment the seal was broken.
It lacks the exaggerated, glittering special effects often seen in movies and TV shows.
There was no deafening sound.
There was only one smell.
A rich floral fragrance that blends the scents of hundreds of precious flowers picked at their most splendid moment.
It is interwoven with the purest, rich aroma of aged wine, which seems to melt into one's very bones.
It was no longer that faint, wispy thread.
Rather, it was like a torrent that had been suppressed for countless days and nights, finally finding its outlet.
It was like an invisible level 10 nuclear storm.
A thunderous explosion erupted, centered on the main table!
In less than half a second, the aroma swept through the entire luxurious banquet hall, which spanned over a thousand square meters, with overwhelming force!