Divine Eye Appraisal: Starting with a Lucky Pickup of a Beautiful CEO's Family Heirloom

The next morning at 8:30, Qin Fei called and asked if I was free to come to the teahouse across from the police station to make a formal statement.

When Wen Zhaoye arrived, she was already sitting in the private room.

There was a cup of Tieguanyin tea on the table, the tea had gone cold and hadn't been touched.

A notebook with the city bureau's seal was spread out next to it.

"Sit down." Qin Fei pointed to the chair opposite her.

Wen Zhaoye sat down and glanced at the now-cold tea: "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long." Qin Fei opened the notebook. "Let's begin."

She asked very detailed questions. Every detail of the day Bao Dequan was arrested—what time he arrived at the store, who made the first move, how the security guards pressed him down, and how the jade pendant was slipped into his sleeve.

Then there's the story of the night Bao Hu committed the murder with a knife—what kind of knife it was, how long it was, and from which direction it was stabbed.

Wen Zhaoye answered each question calmly, as if reciting a text.

Qin Fei kept her head down, taking notes, occasionally glancing up at him. "Have Wen Nian and her brother contacted you recently?"

"no."

What happened to Wen Chengjie after he was released from detention?

"They haven't contacted me."

Qin Fei made a mark on the notebook and turned to the next page.

Wen Zhaoye noticed that when she turned the pages, her finger paused for two seconds on a certain page—it was a few printed copies tucked inside the notebook.

He glanced at it and saw a few words: "Recent Records of Cultural Relics Transaction in Jiangcheng".

A thought flashed through his mind. "Officer Qin."

"Um?"

"Are you looking up this too?"

Qin Fei didn't look up, but tapped her pen twice on the notebook: "Continue."

Wen Zhaoye didn't continue. Instead, he took out his phone, opened the photo of Bao Dequan's gold ring that he had taken last night, and turned the screen around: "Take a look at this."

Qin Fei glanced at it and narrowed her eyes.

"That mark on the inside of the ring isn't jade powder, it's rust. I saw it clearly yesterday downstairs in your office, less than twenty meters away from him. Bao Dequan has recently handled bronze artifacts, and they're the old kind."

Qin Fei pushed the phone back and remained silent for a few seconds.

Then she closed the notebook and looked at Wen Zhaoye: "Your eyes are indeed very sharp."

Wen Zhaoye did not respond.

"But remember," Qin Fei inserted the pen into the loop of the notebook, "solving cases relies on evidence, not intuition."

"I know."

Qin Fei stood up and tucked the transcript under her arm: "Alright, the transcript is done. Call me if there are any new developments."

Wen Zhaoye didn't move. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the corner of a neatly folded newspaper.

Sun Bo'an gave him the newspaper from five years ago about the Warring States period jade disc case.

There was a pencil annotation in the corner of the newspaper: "Qian Bohong received 30,000."

He unfolded the newspaper, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Qin Fei.

"Take a look at this."

Qin Fei glanced down and her gaze fell on the line of small print.

She didn't pick it up immediately, but stared at it for a few seconds before looking up at Wen Zhaoye: "Where did this come from?"

"Sun Bo'an. You've heard about his son's case five years ago, haven't you?"

Qin Fei didn't say anything.

"Sun Qiming was the one who appraised that jade disc and issued a report confirming it was genuine. But the next day, Qian Bohong came out with several experts and said it was a fake, a setup by Sun Qiming and tomb raiders. Then Sun Qiming jumped off a building, but he didn't die and has been paralyzed ever since."

Qin Fei picked up the newspaper, looked at it against the light, and then turned it over to look at the back.

Then she took out her phone and took a picture.

"This newspaper has been kept for at most five years?" she asked.

"It should be."

"Do the ink marks on the annotations match the yellowing of the newspaper?"

Wen Zhaoye was stunned for a moment—this woman's mind works really fast.

"It matches."

Qin Fei put away her phone and pushed the newspaper back: "You do your investigation, I'll do mine. If we run into each other, let me know in advance."

She turned to leave.

Wen Zhaoye called out to her from behind, "Officer Qin."

She turned around. "If I want to investigate that case, what can I do for you?"

Qin Fei did not answer.

She walked back to the table, picked up the cold Tieguanyin tea, stirred the tea leaves a couple of times with the lid, and then looked up at Wen Zhaoye.

That look in his eyes was indifferent, as if to say—"You know."

She put down her teacup, turned around, and left.

Wen Zhaoye sat in the private room, staring at the cup of tea she had stirred, and his lips twitched slightly.

He took out his phone and, sure enough, saw a text message from Qin Fei: "Bao Hu has spoken to Qian Bohong's driver three times recently. The last time was at 11:07 PM the night before last."

Wen Zhaoye read the text message twice, then deleted it.

He stood at the entrance of the teahouse, looking at the gray sky over Jiangcheng, and pressed his finger on the corner of the newspaper in the inner pocket.

The case is from three years ago, involving Sun Bo'an's son.

It was like a hole that someone had deliberately buried in the ground, and he was already holding a shovel in his hand.

While Grandma was taking a nap, Wen Zhaoye slipped out of the hospital.

He originally planned to go to the store to check on the renovation progress, but halfway there, he accidentally turned into the antique market.

This was the first time he had properly visited an antique market since awakening his divine eye—his previous awakening at the jade market was done while he was pinned to the ground, so it didn't count.

The antique market is located in the old town of Jiangcheng. The street is winding and lined with shops on both sides.

Wen Zhaoye had visited before, but back then he didn't know anything and could only watch the excitement.

Things are different now. He has the money he earned from Bao Dequan in his pocket, and a pair of eyes that can see through everything.

He stood at the street corner and took a deep breath.

There weren't many people on the street. It was a little past two in the afternoon, the time when the vendors were getting sleepy and the shoppers were getting lazy.

Wen Zhaoye walked from house to house, his divine eye occasionally flashing on a certain object.

Most of them are fake.

He walked past a stall selling bronzeware, and his divine eye revealed that the "Xuande incense burner" was a modern sand-cast imitation, with the characters on the bottom printed crookedly.

As we passed a porcelain shop, Shen Tong said that the glaze on that "Yuan blue and white porcelain" piece was applied using a microwave oven.

As I walked past a shop selling calligraphy and paintings, my eyes immediately displayed "Printed materials, paper contains fluorescent agents."

Wen Zhaoye said that this ability is too honest; he doesn't let go of even a fake one.

When he reached East Third Street, there were even fewer people.

This street is the most remote part of the antique market, with cheap rent and small-time vendors.

Wen Zhaoye originally planned to just glance at it and move on, but he stopped in front of a stall.

It's a stall selling miscellaneous items.

On the rag were copper coins, small Buddha statues, wood carvings, broken porcelain shards, and all sorts of random things.

The stall owner was a man in his fifties, sitting on a small stool, dozing off, his drool almost dripping down his face.

Wen Zhaoye squatted down, pretending to look at a string of copper coins. But Shen Tong had already caught a glimmer of light in the corner.

There were several dirty jade pieces piled up in that corner.

A jade pendant was pressed at the bottom, covered in grease and dust, looking as if it had been carelessly thrown in.

It's not very big, it's a round sculpture, and it depicts an auspicious beast.

The divine eye revealed a few words: Mid-Qing Dynasty Hetian white jade pebble, skillful craftsmanship, undamaged.

Wen Zhaoye's heart skipped a beat.

Without making a sound, he picked up the string of copper coins and asked, "Boss, how much is this string of copper coins?"

The stall owner was woken up by the noise, rubbed his eyes and looked at the skewer: "That one, six hundred."

Wen Zhaoye shook his head, put down the copper coin, and started rummaging through other things.

He ran his fingers across the stall a few times before finally touching the jade pendant.

He picked up the jade pendant and weighed it in his hand.

It feels warm and heavy to the touch.

"What about this one?" he asked casually.

The stall owner glanced at it: "That one? Three thousand."

Three thousand.

Wen Zhaoye understood.

If he were to buy it now for three thousand, he could resell it for seventy or eighty thousand.

But he can't show too much interest, or the stall owner will raise the price.

He frowned: "Three thousand is too expensive. Look at this, it's covered in grease, you can't even see what it's carved on."

The stall owner chuckled: "That's how old things are; just wash them clean."

"Does anyone know if there are any cracks inside?"

"If it's cracked, take it back."

Wen Zhaoye pretended to hesitate for a moment, then flipped the jade pendant over in his hand: "Two thousand five, I'll take it."

The stall owner thought for a moment, then readily nodded: "Okay, it's yours."

Wen Zhaoye took out his phone, scanned the QR code, and 2,500 yuan was transferred.

He put the jade pendant into his pocket, and his legs trembled slightly when he stood up—not out of fear, but out of excitement.