"Precision is everything," Qian Guang remarked.
He was right. There's an old saying in the jade-gambling world: those who gamble on jade do not trade it, and those who trade jade do not gamble on it. This stems from the high risk of losses. Professional jade merchants, like Boss Wei, typically avoid gambling entirely. But even he couldn't resist the allure a few times, only to lose millions each time.
As Qian Guang and I strolled into Zone Six, he scrutinized the materials with a puzzled look. "Why are they all partially revealed pieces? Where are the fully uncut ones?"
I explained, "That's their strategy. By revealing just a small section, they can exponentially inflate the price. Their materials, often purchased at high prices from auctions, are partially exposed to ensure a quick profit margin of several times the cost."
Qian Guang nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, let's begin. I've got twenty million."
I nodded back, adding, "And I have ten million. Together, that gives us thirty million." Despite the seemingly large sum, in the jade-gambling world, thirty million barely buys a single stone—and sometimes not even that.
The pieces in this area were decent, mostly sourced from old mines. I picked up one—a weathered, grayish-white piece with a rough texture. It was a semi-gamble piece from Mo Xi Sha, characterized by weak structural integrity, uneven weathering, and a chaotic, haphazard appearance. Its small exposed section showed a faintly icy texture, decent clarity, and mild luster, though the cotton-like inclusions were pronounced. The base color was greenish, with the potential to yield a bracelet, but overall, its value was limited.
The price? A shocking 1.2 million for just 10 kilograms. Daylight robbery.
In Zone Six, small pieces are usually overpriced and frustratingly low in quality. The only way to mitigate that frustration is by moving to the larger pieces, which, though expensive, feel more worthwhile due to their sheer size.
In the large materials section, one particular piece caught my eye. It was a massive, relatively new stone with a grayish-black exterior and a faint oily sheen. Its aged surface and pleasing shape suggested it wasn't a top-tier stone, but it still intrigued me.
I shone a light onto it. The revealed portion showed promising quality—good clarity and vibrant color. However, I couldn't pinpoint its origin. It resembled Mo Xi Sha, Pa Gan, or even Mo Wan Ji, but I was certain it came from an old mine.
Weighing over 200 kilograms, it was a rare find from any old mine, especially with its oily surface and impressive potential. I resisted the urge to rely on the tiny exposed section to identify it, choosing instead to test my skills in deducing its origins. Yet, after much deliberation, I remained uncertain and had no choice but to examine the exposed part.
The window, frustratingly small—no larger than a fingernail—was clearly designed to maintain the seller's advantage. I shone a light into it and observed a faintly icy texture, fine crystalline structure, decent clarity, and a mild greenish tone. The stone had potential but carried risks: visible cotton-like inclusions, a grayish base, and an uneven green hue with the possibility of further color shifts.
Analyzing it, I concluded that with precise craftsmanship, the stone could yield floating-color pendants worth over a hundred thousand each. But the chances of internal fractures or undesired changes were high, which could render the entire piece worthless.
Despite the risks, the stone's size—it could produce over ten thousand pendants if fully utilized—made it a potential goldmine, possibly worth millions. However, its uncertain origin still nagged at me. After further analysis, I deduced it might be from Ge Yin Jiao, a lesser-known but high-quality source akin to Mo Wan Ji, yet often mistaken due to their similarities.
Ge Yin Jiao is part of the southern regions of the old mining areas, distinct from the mid-northeastern Mo Wan Ji. The geological differences, particularly during the jade's crystallization and weathering phases, contribute to their unique characteristics. Ge Yin Jiao's stones are typically denser with finer grains, occasionally transitioning into a waxy surface, unlike the coarser sandy textures of Mo Wan Ji.
Realizing this, I smiled. Ge Yin Jiao, though less renowned than Mo Wan Ji, produces exceptional stones with vibrant colors and refined textures. If this stone contained quality jade, it could yield incredible returns.
Priced at 12 million for 250 kilograms, this was relatively affordable for a piece of its caliber. I approached Qian Guang and proposed, "Let's bet on this one. The material is decent, though slightly flawed. It's a gamble on structural integrity and water clarity. If it pays off, the profits could be massive."
He handed me his bank card without hesitation. "You're the expert. I trust you."
"Split evenly?" I suggested.
He chuckled, "Seventy-thirty. I am still the elder brother, after all."
Respecting his sentiment, I agreed. We paid—3.6 million from me and 8.4 million from him—and sent the stone to the cutting station.
At the station, I specifically requested Wang Gui, dismissing the less experienced cutter with a red envelope to smooth things over. Examining the stone, Wang Gui remarked, "The bracelet slots are limited. The uneven surface complicates things."
I nodded. "Focus on the edges. Cut from the corner first. Let's see if we uncover better quality deeper within."
As the blade descended, I felt my heartbeat quicken. The anticipation was intoxicating—a mix of hope and trepidation. Experience had taught me to temper my expectations; after all, the jade-gambling world is as unforgiving as it is alluring.
Still, as the blade neared completion, I couldn't help but dream of striking gold—vivid colors, exceptional clarity, and unparalleled texture. Would this be the jackpot we were waiting for?