The two men had their eyes on a piece of raw jade from the Mawanhqi region, known for its black tungsten-sand skin. Such stones were famous for their vibrant color but short water head. If the color emerged, it would be exceptional; however, black tungsten-sand stones often led hopeful gamblers to ruin.
In the world of jade betting, black tungsten-sand stones were the riskiest, as they could result in a total loss.
Despite my reluctance, I crouched down to examine the stone. This piece had brushed skin typical of Mawanhqi material. Though some areas revealed hints of color, the foundational structure was limited, with uneven weathering. The internal texture seemed immature, the meat coarse. The base tone was gray, the color uneven, and there were signs of gradient transitions. The probability of yielding a high-grade finished product appeared slim.
I focused on the cut window of the stone, which was the most critical aspect. The revealed texture was of the "glutinous" variety, not particularly fine. The water head was moderately decent, with a fair gloss, though the hue leaned toward a melon-skin green. The texture felt youthful, with some evidence of moss spreading through. The gradient in color was pronounced.
Considering the foundation, the internal structure seemed uncertain, lacking a clear space for stable water or texture. While there was a chance of floating colors within, achieving concentrated clusters or large patches of color seemed unlikely. If it did end up as a floating color, the stone would be a loss—there was no chance for bracelet-quality cuts. At best, it might yield a few smaller pieces, but the scattered color would reduce their value, and producing simple beads or cabochons would result in financial loss.
Even in the best-case scenario, where the gamble was successful, the gains would be minimal. Failure, on the other hand, would leave us with nothing.
The two men turned to me for my opinion. Despite my hesitance, I had to be honest. "This material doesn't seem promising. The cost-to-benefit ratio is low, and the probability of success is slim. Plus, without bracelet-quality cuts, I recommend against betting on it."
In jade betting, bracelet material was the priority—it sold well and had high demand.
As a gambler, I had to calculate profit and yield with precision. A stone without bracelet potential immediately halved its betting value. Every aspect—the estimated price, the texture and color, the number of bracelets it could yield, the smaller pieces that could be carved from the leftover core—all had to be considered.
Processing a 100-kilogram stone could take only two or three days, with fast market turnover. But if calculations weren't precise, valuable time for the craftsmen could be wasted. With stones worth millions, they couldn't afford to cut recklessly.
For a jade gambler, cash flow was critical. If material couldn't be quickly sold, there wouldn't be funds for the next bet. Boss Wei, as a jade seller, faced intense competition. With rising prices, high-quality stones with vibrant colors and premium textures were in high demand.
Top-tier raw materials like black jadeite, red jadeite, and violet jadeite had surged in value. Glass-like jadeite with vibrant hues, once sold in bulk, was now cut into smaller pieces and sold individually, tripling the profit. But success hinged on producing bracelet-quality cuts. Without them, particularly in risky black tungsten-sand material, I couldn't advise the gamble.
Kun Sang furrowed his brows. "This Mawanhqi material has already been windowed. There's base color and water inside. It's only 200,000 euros. Even without bracelet cuts, it could still produce cabochons and plaques, right, Boss Wei?"
Boss Wei nodded. "The material is cheap, with both color and water. There's no reason not to take the gamble."
I chuckled. "I don't gamble on black tungsten-sand stones, so I won't comment."
Boss Wei nodded and turned to Kun Sang. "Zhao Fei is right—he never gambles on black tungsten-sand. Kun Sang, I think this piece has potential. Shall we test the waters?"
Kun Sang nodded. "Alright, fifty-fifty."
With that, Boss Wei retrieved a bidding slip from the staff. After some discussion, they decided to place an initial bid of 300,000 euros.
Watching their bid flash onto the large screen in the banquet hall, I finally understood its purpose: to display the bidding process in real-time. Each raw stone had a serial number, and bidders, equipped with invitation cards, could see their offers displayed immediately.
Moments later, the price for stone #1952 jumped to 500,000 euros.
I scanned the room. No one else had been inspecting this piece, so why was there competition?
"Someone's inflating the price," Boss Wei muttered, visibly annoyed.
Kun Sang nodded. "This is the danger of betting in Myanmar. There's always price manipulation. Sometimes, you can't tell if it's genuine competition or the seller artificially inflating the price. More often than not, you end up overpaying for material that isn't worth it."
I agreed, unease settling in. In Myanmar's jade market, it wasn't just about luck or capital—you also had to guard against manipulation. Where profit existed, shadows lingered.
"It's likely the seller driving up the price. No one but us has even looked at this stone," I said.
Boss Wei nodded. "We'll try one last bid. If we can secure it for 700,000 euros, we'll proceed. Otherwise, we'll let it go."
Kun Sang agreed, submitting a bid of 700,000 euros. Watching the screen, I sighed inwardly. Nearly 600,000 euros for this piece wasn't worth it—it lacked value.
The screen eventually stopped scrolling, confirming the final bid. A notice instructed Kun Sang to proceed with payment.
Kun Sang asked, "Zhao Fei, will you contribute?"
I shook my head. "I don't gamble on black tungsten-sand, so I'll sit this one out."
Though surprised, neither of them pushed further. This was a test run, after all—nothing too serious.
After settling the payment, they retrieved the stone and brought it to the cutting room. Inside, the hum of machines filled the air, with several craftsmen at work.
Kun Sang handed the stone to a cutter. "Zhao Fei, how should we cut it?"
"Start with the weak area," I advised. "There's a patch of moss here. Moss often indicates green beneath, but it could also consume the color. Start there."
The cutter examined the stone, then positioned it under the saw. The buzz of the blade was deafening, and as it bit into the stone, tension hung in the air.
Finally, the cutter paused, rinsed the pieces in water, and handed them over. Kun Sang's expression darkened.
"The color dispersed too much. It's veering toward brick material," he muttered.
Boss Wei nodded grimly. The stone had significant cracks, scattering the color further. This cut had already halved its value.
Kun Sang asked, "What next, Zhao Fei?"
"Go big," I replied. "This side is already a loss. The back section has a better window, but it's a gamble. If the gradient runs off, it's over."
The cutter resumed work, slicing a three-centimeter layer from the window. The moment the stone was opened, we all crowded around to inspect it.
I couldn't help but smile—the interior was a disaster. The color had all but vanished, leaving only traces near the surface. The core was hollow and resembled nothing more than a brick.
Kun Sang and Boss Wei exchanged bitter smiles.
"Well," I said lightly, "you could still carve a few beads from this and sell them for a couple thousand."
Boss Wei shook his head, sighing. "Zhao Fei, spare us. This proves it—gambling isn't just about intuition. Careful analysis is essential."
Kun Sang turned to me. "Alright, Zhao Fei. It's your turn. Let's see what you can do."
I smiled faintly. Now they were ready to hand me the reins—but I'd make sure to seize control entirely. Better to lay everything on the table upfront.