"One million seven hundred thousand!" A small business owner started bidding.
"One million eight hundred thousand!" Someone followed suit.
"Two million!" Another bid was called.
The audience was still in chaos.
"What kind of taste is this? It's gaudy, like a Western painting, with gilding, so tacky." Chu Xianling didn't like this piece.
"If you don't like it, someone else does. Look at those fat-headed, big-eared rich bosses; they love these brightly colored things. They buy them and display them at home, glittering, wanting people to notice from afar, terrified others might not know they're wealthy." Song Xiaodong looked at this group of rosy-cheeked, potbellied businessmen with disdain.
"Two million five hundred thousand!" Zhang Dongfang called out the highest price.
There was a hush after a gasp from the crowd, and no one else bid.
