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

The next morning, before Wen Zhaoye had even gotten out of bed, his phone rang.

He squinted and reached for his phone, only to see it was Sun Bo'an. It was 6:30.

"Mr. Sun, what are you doing...?"

"Get up, I'll take you to see the shop."

Wen Zhaoye was taken aback: "What shop?"

"You're opening your own shop without a storefront? You're going to sleep on the street to run your shop?" Sun Bo'an's voice was sharp on the other end of the phone. "The owner of that tea shop on the second floor corner of the jade market is quitting and wants to sublet it. I've already spoken to him, so you can come and take a look first."

Wen Zhaoye jumped up in a flash: "I'll be right there."

He brushed his teeth and washed his face in less than three minutes, then put on a clean T-shirt and ran outside.

Grandma is still in the hospital, the shop is not open yet, and he is still living in that dilapidated rented room—but soon, once the shop opens, he will be able to bring Grandma to live with him.

There weren't many people in the jade market in the morning, and the gates were still locked.

Wen Zhaoye went around to the side door and entered. Sun Bo'an was already standing at the top of the stairs on the second floor, with a woman in her forties standing next to him, wearing work clothes and holding a bunch of keys.

"This is Xiao Zhang from the management office," Sun Bo'an introduced. "Sister Zhang, this is the young man I told you about."

Sister Zhang glanced at Wen Zhaoye, her gaze complex, unsure whether it was admiration or worry.

"Wen Zhaoye, right?" she said. "You're the one who brought down Bao Dequan's shop?"

"Not really..." Wen Zhaoye scratched his head. "He started the trouble himself."

Without saying much, Sister Zhang turned and walked deeper into the corridor: "Come on, let me show you the shop."

The shop on the second floor at the corner used to sell tea.

The words "Prime Location for Rent" were pasted on the roller shutter door, and they were already covered in dust.

With a whoosh, Sister Zhang flung open the door, and a whiff of aged Pu'er tea wafted out.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the door and glanced inside.

It's about forty square meters, not big, but it's square and regular.

There is a narrow south-facing window on the east wall. At this time, the sunlight has not yet shone in, but one can imagine that in the afternoon, a beam of slanting sunlight will shine in.

The ceiling is very high, I estimate it's over four meters, enough to make a small loft for storing goods.

A thought suddenly popped into his mind—it would look quite nice if this were labeled "Jianzhen Pavilion".

"How much is the rent?" he asked.

Sister Zhang glanced at Sun Bo'an and said, "The original price was three thousand five hundred a month, but Old Sun said you're running a legitimate business, so I'll give you three thousand. But there's a problem."

"What's the problem?"

"Several long-time business owners at the management office have jointly objected."

Wen Zhaoye remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

Sister Zhang sighed: "They said you caused too much trouble at the jade market. Bao Dequan had been running his shop here for over ten years, and you just brought it down like that. They're worried that if you open a shop in the jade market in the future, you'll cause even more trouble."

"Who co-signed it?" Sun Bo'an asked.

"Old Zhou, Fatty Li, and Old Liu who makes jade pendants," Sister Zhang said. "They were all waiting for you at the management office this morning, saying they wanted to explain things to you in person."

Sun Bo'an's expression was not good.

Wen Zhaoye smiled and said, "Alright, let's talk about it in person." The management office was on the first floor and was a small office. When Wen Zhaoye followed Sister Zhang inside, there were already three people sitting in the room: an old man in his sixties, a fat man in his forties, and a middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

The three people had different expressions when they saw Wen Zhaoye enter.

The old man glanced at him but didn't say anything.

The fat man leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and had a "I'll see what you're capable of" expression on his face.

The man with the gold-rimmed glasses frowned and spoke first: "You're Wen Zhaoye?"

"it's me."

"My name is Liu Zhiming," said the man with the gold-rimmed glasses. "I've been making jade pendants in the jade market for nine years. Let me be frank with you—I don't object to you opening a shop, but I don't want the jade market to become a mess because of you."

Wen Zhaoye nodded: "I understand. Anything else?"

The fat man chimed in, "And then there's me. My name is Li Guofu, I sell miscellaneous items. You caused such a commotion at the jade market, the Bao Dequan matter isn't over yet, is it? He's out on bail, who knows what other trouble might follow?"

"He'll have more trouble later," Wen Zhaoye said, "but it's not my trouble." "What do you mean?"

"I only started the investigation into Bao Dequan's case. How the investigation proceeds and who is investigated is a matter for the public security bureau."

Liu Zhiming pushed up his glasses: "What if Bao Dequan's men cause trouble after your shop opens?"

"If one comes, call the police. If two come, send them both away," Wen Zhaoye said casually. "The jade market has surveillance cameras, and I have witnesses. Why would I be afraid of him?"

The three of them exchanged a glance.

The old man finally spoke: "Young man, you make it sound so easy. But none of us in business want to cause trouble."

"I understand," Wen Zhaoye said. "That's why I'm showing you three pieces of paper."

He took out three pieces of paper from his inner pocket and laid them out in a row on the table.

The first document is a photocopy of the materials regarding the handling of Bao Dequan's Yumantang for violations.

The second photo is of Wang Ming at the highway toll station on his way to the provincial capital—Qin Fei sent it to him yesterday.

The third picture is a corner of a newspaper from five years ago about the Warring States jade disc case, with pencil annotations on it.

"The first picture shows why Bao Dequan fell from grace. The second picture shows that the people in charge are investigating. The third picture shows who is behind Bao Dequan."

Wen Zhaoye looked at the three people.

"If you want to be like Bao Dequan, you can continue to oppose him."

The room was silent for three seconds.

Fatty Li Guofu was the first to back down. He leaned over and looked at the three pieces of paper, his expression changing: "How did you get these things?"

"Someone gave it to me."

Liu Zhiming hesitated for a moment before speaking: "Are you connected to the police?"

"Make a friend."

The old man was silent for a moment, then sighed, "Forget it, I won't get involved. You can open your shop if you want, just don't make too much of a fuss."

Sister Zhang had remained silent the whole time. Seeing that none of the three had any objections, she patted the table and said, "Then it's settled. Sign the contract, rent is three thousand, one month's deposit and three months' rent in advance. Any problems?"

"no problem."

Wen Zhaoye signed the contract and transferred the money on the spot.

The moment he got the keys, an indescribable feeling welled up inside him—this shop was his own.

The three men stood up to leave, but as they reached the door, Liu Zhiming turned back and glanced at him: "Wen Zhaoye, I heard you can appraise stones?"

"I know a little."

"Come visit my shop sometime when you have time."

"OK."

After they left, Sun Bo'an stood in the empty shop and looked around.

He suddenly pulled an old wooden plaque the size of a palm from his pocket and handed it to Wen Zhaoye.

Wen Zhaoye looked down and saw three characters carved on the wooden plaque, with traces of paint still remaining.

"Jianzhen Pavilion".

"This is..." He paused for a moment.

"I had Old Zhou, the carpenter, carve it," Sun Bo'an said. "He carved the characters I wrote with a brush. Don't hang it up yet; wait until you can stand steadily for a day."

Wen Zhaoye took it with both hands and ran his fingers along the wood grain.

The characters are written very well, each stroke is steady, and the engraving is deep.

He turned the wooden plaque over and saw a few words written in pencil on the back: "First year on the journey home".

He looked up at Sun Bo'an.

Sun Bo'an didn't look at him, but stood by the window looking out: "Bao Dequan's matter isn't over yet. Now that you've opened a shop, you need to be prepared for a fight."

"I know."

"Good to know." Sun Bo'an turned his head. "I've arranged for Ma Guoliang to have his stone-cutting spot on the first floor, at the old Yu Mantang counter. Do you agree?"

"agree."

Sun Bo'an nodded, turned around and left.

As he reached the door, he paused: "The renovation workers will be here this afternoon. Keep an eye on things yourself."

"Okay." After Sun Bo'an left, Wen Zhaoye stood in the empty shop.

The sunlight hasn't yet shone through that narrow window on the east wall.

He squatted down, placed the wooden plaque on the ground, took out his wallet, and pulled out the family photo from a hidden compartment.

The photo shows a seven-year-old version of myself, a smiling mother, and a father whose face is blurred.

He placed the photo next to the wooden plaque and looked at it for a while.

Then he stood up, walked to the east wall, and touched the dust on the wall with his finger.

Sunlight will shine through this wall in the afternoon.

He will hang a wooden plaque there.

He will open a shop here. He will establish himself in Jiangcheng.

He took out his phone and sent a message to Qin Fei: "The shop space is booked. Jianzhen Pavilion, second floor corner of the Jade City."

Qin Fei replied less than a minute after the message was sent.

I passed by this afternoon.

It was evening. Wen Zhaoye was standing by the east wall, hammering nails.

He measured it several times to make sure the height was just right and it wouldn't hang crooked.

Qin Fei's voice came from the doorway: "What are you nailing?"

He turned around and saw Qin Fei leaning against the door frame, wearing a black jacket and carrying a plastic bag.

I didn't go inside; I just leaned against the door.

"A wooden plaque," he said. "It's not hung up yet; we'll just hammer in a nail first."

Qin Fei walked in, stood next to him, and looked up at the nail.

Then, without saying anything, she took a bottle of water out of the plastic bag and handed it to him.

"Thanks." Wen Zhaoye took it, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

"I just finished a meeting at the Municipal Public Security Bureau," Qin Fei said. "I have two things to tell you."

"Speak."

"First, Bao Dequan's list of stolen goods included a bronze artifact fragment. The appraisal report stated that it may have entered Jiangcheng from an unapproved excavation site in the provincial capital. I followed this lead."

Wen Zhaoye put down the water bottle: "And the second thing?"

Qin Fei looked at him: "Bao Dequan asked someone to pass on a message to Qian Bohong from the detention center. The message was four words—'The shop cannot be opened.'"

Wen Zhaoye remained silent for a few seconds.

"He still hasn't given up."

"Of course he's not giving up," Qin Fei said. "His shop is gone, he's in jail, and now that you've opened a shop, he'll never be able to recover."

Wen Zhaoye laughed: "Then he should hate me."

"He doesn't just hate you," Qin Fei said. "He's afraid of you."

"What are you afraid of me for?"

"I'm afraid of your eyes."

After Qin Fei finished speaking, she turned and walked towards the door.

As she reached the doorway, she glanced back at the nail on the wall—the slanting sunlight shone brightly on it.

"After I hung up, the first person I came to ask was you to look after a rock."

"Stone?"

"I found it," Qin Fei said. "I don't know if it's true or not."

"Okay." Qin Fei nodded, turned around and left.

Her figure turned the corner of the stairs and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Wen Zhaoye turned around and walked into the empty shop.

The slanting rays of the east wall shone brightly on the nail on which he hung the wooden plaque, making it dazzlingly shiny.

He squatted down with his back against the wall and took out the family photo from his wallet.

In the photo, the father's face is still blurry.

But now he knows that his father didn't abandon him. His father simply couldn't come back.

He placed the photo on the floor tiles three feet in front of him, laying it flat. He looked at it for a while.

Then he stood up, turned the wooden plaque over, took a pen from his pocket, and added a line of small characters below the inscription "First Year of Return" on the back: "Jianzhen Pavilion".