The masked bidder raised the price twice, each time just after Yan’s offer. Yan watched the blue screen. The person behind it did not inspect the manual or speak to the clerk. Their attention seemed fixed on Yan’s side of the room.
“Could be a collector,” Bai whispered.
“Could be someone who dislikes me.”
“You don’t have to decide which. Watch the price.”
The auction clerk nodded to a runner, who carried tea down the row. The runner stopped beside Yan and glanced at his bronze visitor token. “Young Master Shen, Registrar Wuchen’s office sent word that your seat was reserved.”
Yan looked up. “The office issued the token. It did not reserve a seat or pay for the bid.”
The runner flushed. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
“Don’t worry about it. Just bring the tea to the next row.”
