Reborn in 2010, the AI ​​in my mind is too powerful.

After quietly getting out of bed, Chen Yiran called downstairs to order breakfast and began flipping through the product catalog.

Bonhams' hardcover catalog is so thick it could be used as a brick. The 598 lots are arranged alphabetically, starting with James Edge and ending with Émile Zola.

While these items are indeed valuable, their actual price isn't as high as one might imagine. They hold more of a cultural value, unlike porcelain or oil paintings which can command exorbitant prices.

Lily's follower CS Lewis's email is number 84; the actual transaction price shouldn't be too high. Based on the reference email from Chase yesterday, it's likely to fluctuate between a few hundred and a few thousand dollars.

Lily got up a little while later, a bit shy, her face flushed slightly. Pretending to be experienced, she walked over and naturally started eating breakfast.

Chen Yiran didn't say anything. He hadn't expected that this girl, who was two years older than Hannah, would be a virgin, which made Chen Yiran feel a little pressured.

The atmosphere between the two became somewhat awkward, but after finishing their meal, Lily still took Chen Yiran's hand and left the house.

Bonhams' preview was in a long, narrow gallery next to the auction room, where all the items were displayed in glass cases.

Yellowed sheets of paper lay on a dark velvet cushion, each with a small number tag in front of it.

There weren't many people in the exhibition hall. A few elderly men with gray hair were carefully examining the condition of a letter, while a few middle-aged men in suits were making quiet phone calls in a corner.

Chen Yiran led Lily to the ninth cabinet and stopped. Inside was a letter from CS Lewis. The paper was a little yellowed, the ink was dark brown, the signature was very neat, and the overall condition was very good.

Chen Yiran introduced softly: "Written in Cambridge, April 28, 1951, to Mr. Rutyearts."

The content is: I think Bradbury is an extremely talented writer. However, is his style too refined, too elusive, too delicate, unsuitable for science fiction? In this respect, he and I are at opposite ends—he is a humble disciple of Corot and Debussy, while I am an even more humble disciple of Titian and Beethoven.

Lewis rarely commented publicly on contemporary science fiction writers; comparing Bradbury to an Impressionist and himself to a Classicist was unprecedented.

Lily gave him a strange look: "I've realized you just have a good memory; you seem to remember everything you've seen. But you're not exactly a know-it-all, so how did you find out about this obscure information?"

"I looked at the auction details that Datong sent me this morning. The descriptions were very detailed. You also said I have a good memory, so I memorized them after just one glance."

The two walked a few more cabinets and stopped in front of Virginia Woolf's letter.

This is a letter Virginia Woolf wrote to her sister Vanessa in 1929, discussing her work at the time, "A Room of One's Own." The edges of the letter are slightly curled, and the ink in the last paragraph has clearly been changed, perhaps because she ran out of ink halfway through writing and changed pens.

As usual, Chen Yiran began her introduction: "You should know about 'A Room of One's Own,' which originates from Virginia Woolf's lecture at Cambridge University. It discusses the plight of women in a patriarchal society, historical prejudices against women, the common fate faced by women, and the impact of women's poverty on their creative work."

It suggests that women should recognize their own circumstances, actively strive for independent economic power and social status, think independently, and live freely.

Interestingly, the handwriting in the last five lines of this letter is different from the beginning. She applied significantly more pressure after switching pens, leaving a small hole in the paper. Perhaps she wasn't in a good mood when she finished writing this letter.

Lily looked at it for a long time, then turned to Chen Yiran and asked, "If I had the chance, which one do you think I should buy?"

"Buy both."

"It must be very expensive."

"It won't be too expensive. I asked around and it's probably a few thousand or a little over ten thousand."

Lily frowned and said, "You think they're all super-rich like you? This is a lot of money."

"You said I'm a millionaire, I'll buy it for you."

Lily pointed to Woolf's letter and said, "You just said that actresses should fight for independent economic power."

Chen Yiran remained unmoved and pulled Lily toward the auction hall: "I just said that women need to know themselves. You are mine now, and you have to accept what I said I would give you."

It was already 9:50 when I entered the auction hall. There were quite a few people inside, but there were still some empty seats.

Chen Yiran and Lily sat in the last row, and ten minutes later, the auction started on time.

The auctioneer was a gray-haired Englishman standing behind a wooden lectern at the front of the auction hall. To his right was a projection screen, and to his left were two rows of staff members sitting at telephone order desks.

The first item up for auction was a handwritten letter from James Edge. The auctioneer read a passage explaining that in the 1940s, Edge was a commentator for Time magazine and wanted to write an in-depth report on Pulitzer Prize winner William Saroyan. The manuscript was taken away by the editor at the last minute, so this was a one-page apology letter he wrote to Saroyan.

A magnified photo of the letter was projected onto the screen, with a small water stain on the left edge. The starting bid was three hundred. Someone raised their paddle, and then a telephone bidder added to the price. It finally sold for three hundred and forty-one.

The second item is a four-piece set by Edward Albee. It includes a page from the manuscript of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?", a 1963 letter to writer James Herrich discussing the French edition of "The Zoo Story", a thank-you letter, and a signed photograph. This set is relatively complete, with a starting bid of one thousand.

Although it wasn't a handwritten letter from Virginia Woolf, it was still relevant, and since it wasn't expensive, Chen Yiran participated in the auction and eventually won it for $4,300.

The third item was something Chen Yiran was quite interested in, since it was considered a celebrity's possession in China.

The auctioneer introduced in a booming voice: "This is a handwritten letter in English sent by Hans Christian Andersen from Copenhagen in 1858 to the British novelist Wilkie Collins. Andersen wanted to bring Dickens's play 'The Ice Abyss,' which he co-wrote, to Copenhagen and wrote to Collins asking for the script. However, the script wouldn't be published for another eight years after this letter was written, and Andersen never received it before his death."

A large image of the letter was projected onto the screen. Hans Christian Andersen's handwritten English was so fluent that it didn't seem like he was Danish. There was a small yellowish stain on the paper next to his signature.

The starting price was set at four thousand. After several bids, Chen Yiran began to raise his paddle, with a phone commissioner following closely behind.

The two were locked in a stalemate for about five minutes, neither willing to give in, but in the end Chen Yiran won with 9,400 dollars.

After that, Chen Yiran kept resisting his desire to buy everything, since the prices of the items on the field seemed too cheap to him.

Moreover, Chen Yiran is a rather sentimental person, or rather, somewhat of a literary youth. In his previous life, he was the kind of person who would pay for all sorts of strange and unusual cultural products.

In his eyes, these letters and manuscripts from famous figures all evoked a sense of historical resonance.

Besides helping Lily buy CS Lewis and Virginia Woolf letters, Chen Yiran also made several purchases herself.

This includes acquiring Tolkien's manuscripts for $8,000.

For $25,000, they got Katharine Hepburn's letter.

$21,000 to get Audrey Hepburn's letter.

It seems the crowd has already tacitly agreed that there's a wealthy person on this side, going on a buying spree to get whatever he wants.

Chen Yiran thought that there would be no competition in this auction, but a letter from F. Scott Fitzgerald, the author of The Great Gatsby, became the fuse that ignited the war.

The price was bid up to $40,000 before a chubby guy in the front row stood up, glanced at Chen Yiran, and stopped bidding.

Fitzgerald had three items up for auction, one of which was a dinner invitation letter to Aina Clare that Chen Yiran had just acquired.

The words were incredibly extravagant: A creation of unparalleled beauty, impeccably adorned; I will arrive shortly after five, boarding one of my fleet of swift Rolls-Royces, and within three minutes you will be swiftly transported to our palace of pleasure on the banks of the clear Delaware River. A thousand Circassian maidens and servants will procession, and we (at six o'clock) will enjoy Batwings and 1909 château d'Yquem wine.

Secondly, because he had ruined the dinner with a hangover, he had to write another apology letter to Aina Clare: "I don't know whether I was out of it or more offensive. The only thing that's to my advantage is that ever since Hergesheimers left, I've had a vague premonition of disaster and I want to see you as soon as possible."

Hey! But I still like you too much and can't stand the bad impression you inevitably leave behind, which is why I sob sob, and all those old-fashioned, unpopular, unavoidable apologies that you can easily make up for yourself.

Could you at least have breakfast with me? I'll be waiting for you downstairs. (The entire letter is true, and it's written in a really childish way.)

The last one is the unpaid contract MGM gave Fitzgerald.

There were no bids for the next two items, and Chen Yiran won them both for just over four thousand dollars.

Chen Yiran wasn't particularly happy. He felt there would be some minor trouble after the auction because he had seen that chubby guy in the news in his previous life; he was a very troublesome person.