HLM – Chapter 117 The Real Master of Flirting

When it was time for number 24 to go on stage, Eva called Wang Bo outside. Seeing his uneasy expression, the female teacher comforted him, “Don’t be nervous. You saw it yourself—everyone’s taking part quite casually in this event.”

Wang Bo gave a bitter smile. He stuffed the coin into the appraiser Wesker’s hand and said, “Buddy, you go show this for me.”

Although Wesker had never served as a “white-gloved assistant” at an auction, he’d seen plenty of them in action, so he nodded and said it was no problem.

At that moment, number 24 stepped onto the auction platform. When Wang Bo looked up, he realized it was that handsome guy named Downton. He shook his head immediately.

Sitting beside him, Charlie leaned over and asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong? Something off?”

Wang Bo said, “No, I shook my head because I’ve never seen anyone so shameless! There’s no way he’s here for charity—he’s clearly trying to suck up to Eva!”

Juan shrugged and said, “Obviously, that’s exactly what he’s planning.”

Bowen shrugged too. “Obviously, boss here has the same goal.”

Wang Bo and Juan both shot him death glares.

Once on the auction stage, Downton opened a box and revealed the auction item: a golden trophy about half a meter tall, dazzling and splendid.

Wang Bo had no idea what the trophy signified, but judging by the gasps from the crowd, it was clearly a big deal.

Holding the golden trophy with pride, Downton radiated confidence. “My friends, I believe you all recognize this trophy. Yes, this is Oak City’s very first Challenger Cup, which I, Downton Hughes, won one year ago…”

He then launched into a sentimental speech, detailing how hard it was to win the trophy and how glorious it was.

Wang Bo was speechless. “Sh*t. Is this a charity auction or an award ceremony? This guy is seriously full of himself!”

Bowen, trying to redeem himself after offending the others earlier, scoffed, “What the hell is a Challenger Cup? I’ve got a Phoenix pistol quick-draw gold medal myself.”

Charlie gave Wang Bo a brief explanation: the Challenger Cup was a well-known New Zealand extreme sports competition. The helmet on Downton’s trophy meant he had won the racing championship.

After his little speech, Downton changed tone and said, “…I must thank Irina. On the racetrack, I often thought of her. Her face gave me strength and helped me achieve this honor. So when she needs me, I’m willing to give up this trophy without hesitation!”

Saying that in public was essentially a love confession.

Many people turned to look at Eva, including Wang Bo.

Eva stood calmly at the side of the audience, wearing a polite smile—nothing more.

Wang Bo knew exactly what that kind of smile meant. Grinning mischievously, he muttered, “This loser’s about to make a fool of himself.”

Unfazed, Downton continued enthusiastically, “The starting price for this trophy is 5,000 NZD, with bidding increments of 500. Please place your bids!”

Unfortunately for him, the moment he called out the price, the room fell silent. Wang Bo was more than happy to see this: Downton was too full of himself. This kind of trophy meant little to the average person, and starting at 5,000 NZD was simply pushing it.

Especially after Charlie explained that the trophy was made of stainless steel, merely coated in shiny copper paint.

This was a textbook case of trying to show off and falling flat on his face. Even Downton, confident as he was, looked a little awkward.

After a brief silence, someone raised a hand and shouted, “Five thousand! I’m in!”

The room burst into laughter. Wang Bo chuckled and said, “Who was that? Do they think this is poker? What’s with the ‘I’m in’?”

Charlie turned to look and muttered in disbelief, “Who’s this idiot? Classic case of too much money and too little brain.”

Wang Bo glanced over too. The young man looked familiar—seemed like one of the guys Downton had brought along earlier.

With just one bid, the auction was over. Downton, clearly embarrassed, quickly declared it sold and stepped down.

Wesker was ready to go up. Wang Bo followed, grinning. “Go on, buddy, you present it—I’ll do the auctioning.”

He had to thank Downton: that 5,000 NZD bid had softened the crowd up, so his coin wouldn’t seem too outrageous.

Though Wesker wasn’t an official “white glove,” he’d attended many high-end auctions, so he moved smoothly and confidently.

After Wang Bo got on stage, Wesker stayed below and introduced himself as a Christie’s appraiser. Then he opened the box to reveal the gleaming gold coin to the audience.

Once everyone had a good look, Wang Bo beamed with pride and declared, “Ladies and gentlemen, our next auction item comes from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It was minted in 1887 at the London Mint No. 4 and is called the Maundy Gold Coin.”

“This coin was part of my ancestral collection and has always been one of my treasured possessions. But I believe the most valuable things in this world are not precious metals or money. It’s the crystal-clear love and the brightest star of human nature—kindness.”

“I donate this Maundy coin to this auction, to a school with a strong sense of social responsibility, and to the kind-hearted teachers and staff. I must say, your humanity shines brighter than gold, your hearts are purer than crystal!”

“This Maundy gold coin weighs 0.85 ounces and has a gold content of 92.2%. Starting price: 20,000 NZD. Bid increments: 1,000 NZD!”

As soon as his voice fell, thunderous applause broke out—along with a flurry of discussions.

“Wow, that kid speaks well! Who is he? He looks so familiar!”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s clearly filthy rich. Twenty thousand NZD? That’s more than half a year of my salary!”

“What’s a Maundy gold coin? Is it really that valuable? My God, this feels like one of those auctions you see on TV!”

Amidst the chatter, the big-time builder Porter raised his hand and shouted, “Twenty thousand NZD!”

Most people didn’t know about Maundy coins, but they could look it up on their phones. Once they saw the lowest value was already 20,000 USD, the bids came in fast:

“Twenty-one thousand!”

“Twenty-two thousand!”

“Twenty-four thousand!”

“…”

“Thirty thousand!” Porter raised his hand again, sealing the deal.

Wang Bo hadn’t expected the coin to be so well-received. He called out each bid enthusiastically before pointing to Porter and shouting: “Mr. Porter bids 30,000! Anyone else? Thirty thousand once—”