The gavel came down hard on the podium.
"To paddle number 47 for 25 million yuan!"
Applause erupted in the room, hesitant at first, then growing stronger.
Some clapped in genuine admiration, others simply out of disbelief. A few were still whispering in shock.
Chen Lin exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Paddle 47 didn't stand up, didn't celebrate, didn't even look around. He simply sat down, calm, hands folded in front of him.
The only hint of emotion was in the stillness—too controlled, too deliberate.
Chen Lin stared down at her lap, heart thudding.
25 million yuan.
It was for charity.
That part she repeated to herself like a mantra.
The money would go to the children—new facilities, better care, maybe even futures they never imagined.
It would change lives. It was supposed to be something to be proud of.
And maybe—just maybe—if the people bidding were doing it purely out of goodwill, she could have smiled.
