Chapter 187 The worldviews of all the celebrities in attendance collapse! The second layer of danger

A courtyard house within the Second Ring Road!

How about a jar of muddy wine that crumbles and turns to dust?!

These words were like a powerful, heavy hammer blow, slamming into the skulls of everyone in the banquet hall.

The entire room was deathly silent; you could hear a pin drop.

All that remained was the heavy, greedy breathing of wine connoisseur Chen Ping.

The aunt, who had just been yelling about calling security, was now as pale as a sheet.

She felt her knees go weak and her high heels twisted suddenly.

With a "thump," he slumped back into the mahogany chair behind him, completely losing his composure.

The expensive evening gown was wrinkled, but she was completely unaware of it.

My aunt stared blankly at the dusty earthenware jar on the main table.

Then he turned to look at the eighty-eight-pound, gleaming pure gold peach he had given her.

Just now she thought the longevity peach was the most dazzling thing in the room.

But now, standing before that clay jar, exuding the weight of history and the aroma of unparalleled wine.

This pure gold peach is so tacky that it looks like a piece of scrap metal just picked up from a junkyard.

The surrounding relatives all seemed to be frozen in place at that moment.

The mockery, disdain, and amusement on their faces were completely frozen in place.

Instead, there was a profound sense of shock and fear.

How did they just mock Lin Mo?

They said he was a beggar, that he was carrying junk, and that he had dirtied the Persian carpet.

What now?

Even a national treasure-level master would trade his courtyard house in the Second Ring Road for this jar of wine!

The combined wealth of all of them probably couldn't even buy a single drop of wine from this jar!

The way all the celebrities and dignitaries looked at Lin Mo underwent a dramatic change in just half a minute.

From the very beginning, I felt contempt for the Joker.

In an instant, it turned into a fanatical and awe-inspiring feeling, as if looking up to a living god.

Who exactly is this young man in the black suit with no logo?

Lin Mo, however, stood upright in place as if nothing had happened.

Despite the fervent gazes of the entire audience, his eyes remained completely unmoved.

It still has that relaxing feeling of using the sky as a blanket when it falls.

Jiang Ruoyun stayed close to Lin Mo.

The girl proudly raised her snow-white chin, like a victorious little tiger patrolling the mountain.

Her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes swept over the relatives who had been jumping the loudest earlier with a smug look.

Wherever they looked, the relatives lowered their heads guiltily, not daring to utter a single word.

Jiang Ruoyun was overjoyed.

She quietly reached out her finger and gently scratched Lin Mo's large palm twice.

This action exudes a sticky dependence and worship.

This is her man.

He usually looks like a retired old man, who only knows how to sunbathe, chop wood, and cook every day.

But as long as you stand up, even without saying a word, you can crush these arrogant snobs to the ground.

Jiang Jianguo, the richest man in China, was completely stunned.

He sat imposingly in the armchair, his chest heaving violently as he gasped for breath.

The century-old walnut in his hand had long since fallen onto his lap.

Jiang Jianguo stared intently at the jar of fragrant Hundred Flowers Wine in front of him, his Adam's apple bobbing wildly.

He wanted to burst out laughing, and point at his relatives, cursing them as "a bunch of blind idiots."

But he stubbornly held back.

To maintain his status as the richest man, he pinched his thigh hard under the table.

He forcibly suppressed the wide grin that had stretched to his ears.

"cough……"

Jiang Jianguo cleared his throat, trying to appear calm and knowledgeable.

But his gleaming eyes couldn't bear to look away from the wine jar.

"Master Chen, you're too kind."

Jiang Jianguo put on airs, but his voice carried an barely suppressed smugness.

"This is just a small token of our appreciation, a simple meal brewed at home. It's not worth exchanging your courtyard house for."

Upon hearing this, the surrounding business tycoons cursed inwardly.

What the hell is this simple food?!

You old fox Jiang, what are you pretending to be, acting like a big bad wolf!

Whose simple meals could brew a unique, lost art that has been lost for eight hundred years?

Lin Mo looked at his father-in-law's tsundere appearance and a faint smile flashed in his eyes.

He ignored the wine connoisseur who was still trembling with excitement on the side.

Instead, he slowly extended his right hand.

His long, slender fingers pressed down on the long strip wrapped in old newspaper on the table.

That was the piece of junk that everyone had just treated like trash, something to be used as wrapping paper for fried dough sticks, something to be utterly despised.

Lin Mo tapped the edge of the yellowed newspaper with his long, slender fingers.

Then, he casually pushed the roll of old newspaper in front of Jiang Jianguo.

"dad."

Lin Mo's voice was calm and composed, carrying a natural air of ease.

"Please enjoy your wine slowly, and save it for later tonight."

"Here's a little gadget for you to look at for now."

That "Dad" was uttered so naturally, without the slightest hint of flattery or ingratiation.

It's as ordinary as inviting an elderly neighbor over for a bowl of hot soup on a snowy day in a courtyard house.

Jiang Jianguo shuddered violently.

This was the first time Lin Mo had formally addressed him in public.

The richest man felt as sweet as if he had eaten honey, and every pore on his body felt comfortable and open up.

Even looking at this greasy old newspaper seemed much more pleasing to the eye.

But he still maintained his airs, grumbling and whining as he reached out to take it.

"What little gadget? All this mystery, not even a proper box..."

Before Jiang Jianguo's hand could even touch the rolled-up newspaper.

Lin Mo had already taken the initiative and grabbed the edge of the newspaper to seal it.

There was no careful disassembly.

There was no pretense or mystification.

Lin Mo suddenly tightened his grip on his fingers.

"Sizzle—"

A piercing sound of paper tearing suddenly rang out in the silent banquet hall.

The matchmaking newspaper for middle-aged and elderly people, which was printed with "Traditional Chinese Medicine Doctor Specializes in Curing Hair Loss," was roughly torn up by Lin Mo.

Shredded newspaper fell onto the surface of the expensive rosewood table.

Immediately afterwards, Lin Mo flicked his hand.

The scroll, which was originally rolled up, rolled forward on the wide table with the help of this clever momentum.

Silk and satin without any framing.

There were no precious gold or jade scrolls.

There was only one sheet of Chengxintang Xuan paper, cut perfectly square and with a slightly yellowed patina from years of use.

It was laid out right in front of Jiang Jianguo without any warning or suspicion.

The moment the paper was unfolded, a faint scent of pine soot and ink miraculously pierced through the rich aroma of wine.

It drifted around the main table.

Just as the painting "Crane Soaring to the Sky - Birthday Celebration" was completely laid out.

"Clang!!!"

A second loud crash, as if a table had been overturned, suddenly erupted from the VIP seating area on the other side of the hall!

The sound was even more muffled and terrifying than when the wine connoisseur slammed his fist on the table.

All eyes were once again drawn to it.

In the very center of the VIP section.

A thin, elderly man wearing a dark blue long gown and sporting a goatee was standing in an unbelievable pose.

Because the movement of getting up was too sudden.

He forcefully overturned a corner of the heavy solid wood round table in front of him.

The table full of exquisite dishes and expensive bone china bowls and plates were smashed to pieces on the floor.

Soup splattered everywhere, leaving a mess.

But the old man didn't even glance at his feet.

This elderly man was none other than Zhou Qingfeng, the president of the Huaxia Calligraphy Association, a longtime friend whom Song Wan had invited at great expense!

Zhou Qingfeng's status in the calligraphy world can be described as that of a grandmaster among grandmasters.

He has an eccentric personality and scoffs at modern calligraphy innovations, only respecting ancient methods.

Many high-ranking officials and nobles offered huge sums of money to have a single piece of his calligraphy, but they couldn't even get through the gate of his house.

When the Hundred Flowers Brew was opened, Zhou Qingfeng was also surprised by the aroma of the wine.

However, he doesn't drink alcohol, so he can still maintain the demeanor of a superior person, sitting in his chair as still as a mountain.

But now.

Just as Lin Mo tore open the newspaper and laid out the rice paper, it was the exact moment.

Zhou Qingfeng's old eyes, which were always half-closed and seemed to have no interest in anything, suddenly widened in surprise.

His eyeballs are practically bulging out of their sockets!

He stared intently at the blank sheet of Xuan paper on the main table, which didn't even have a frame.

next second.

This nearly 70-year-old calligraphy association president took off like a zombie!

He shoved the chair that was blocking his way aside.

The old man unleashed a speed that would put even Olympic track and field athletes to shame.

With the ferocity of a 100-meter sprint, it recklessly rammed through guests and security personnel along the way.

"Get out of my way!"

As Zhou Qingfeng ran, he frantically rummaged through his pockets for something.

It was a high-magnification professional magnifying glass in a velvet bag.

The surrounding guests were all dumbfounded.

Is this a birthday banquet or a mental hospital's exercise break?

Why are these usually aloof and powerful figures acting so erratically today?

Zhou Qingfeng slammed into the rosewood table at the main table, creating a gust of wind.

His strength was astonishing; he even pushed Jiang Jianguo to the side.

But all he could see was the calligraphy on the table.

Zhou Qingfeng lay almost parallel to the table.

He held the edge of the Xuan paper tightly with one hand, as if afraid it would fly away.

He held a magnifying glass in his other hand, his cheek almost touching the paper.

Overwhelmed with excitement, his chest heaved violently, and his breathing was as heavy as a broken bellows.

Each breath sprayed onto the edge of the rice paper.

The banquet hall was eerily quiet.

The only sound was the old man's violently trembling joints grinding together.

Jiang Jianguo sat to the side, watching Zhou Qingfeng's posture as if he were about to go mad with qi, and his whole body stiffened.

Although he didn't understand calligraphy, he could tell that this piece of calligraphy was definitely a powerful weapon.

What kind of nuclear bomb did Lin Mo hide in those scraps of newspaper?!

Time passed by, second by second.

Zhou Qingfeng's gaze swept over every single character on the Xuan paper, inch by inch.

His eyes grew increasingly red, and tears mixed with sweat streamed down his cheeks.

Sudden.

The old man suddenly sat up straight.

The expensive magnifying glass in his hand fell to the table with a "crack," cracking open.

He didn't care at all.

The president's hands trembled violently as he pointed at the words on the table, his breathing so rapid it was as if he were about to pass out.

"That dry brushstroke returning to its original position... that penetrating, incisive sharpness! The Slender Gold style!"

"This is a genuine work of the 'Slender Gold' calligraphy style, perfectly capturing both form and spirit! Who wrote it?! Which reclusive, national treasure-level master wrote it?!"