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

Early the next morning, before Wen Zhaoye even reached the entrance of Jianzhen Pavilion, he heard a series of knocking sounds coming from inside.

He peeked out and saw Ma Guoliang squatting at the base of the east wall, holding an old hammer and nailing wire grooves into the wall.

His shirt was completely soaked and stuck to his back, but he didn't take a break.

"Master Ma, you're here so early?"

Ma Guoliang glanced back at him, grinned, and said, "I was just killing time anyway. The renovation team said they need to bury wires in this wall, so I thought I'd lend a hand."

Wen Zhaoye went over to take a look.

The cable trays have already run along most of the wall, with neat joints, no different from what experienced workers do.

"With your skills, you could be a decorator."

Ma Guoliang wiped his sweat: "I used to build my own house back in my hometown, and I've practiced martial arts there."

Seeing that he wouldn't stop, Wen Zhaoye didn't try to persuade him anymore.

He put down his bag and began to count the pieces of raw material that had been delivered yesterday.

The two were busy with their own things, and the only sound in the shop was the hammer hitting the wall.

Around noon, Wen Zhaoye put down his powerful flashlight and said, "Master Ma, let's go eat."

Ma Guoliang stood up from the wall, patted the dust off his body, and his hands were covered in white powder.

He glanced at the progress chart on the wall and nodded in satisfaction: "Almost done, just need to wrap things up this afternoon."

A small noodle shop on the street. Two bowls of beef noodles were served, steaming hot.

Ma Guoliang didn't touch his chopsticks; instead, he picked up his bowl and took a sip of soup.

He drank very slowly, as if he couldn't bear to finish it all at once.

Seeing his expression, Wen Zhaoye didn't urge him on, and instead picked up a mouthful of noodles for himself.

"Boss Wen," Ma Guoliang suddenly spoke up.

"Hmm?" "I went to Xiaoxiao's parent-teacher conference last week."

Wen Zhaoye's hand, which was holding his face, froze in mid-air.

Ma Guoliang looked down at the noodles in his bowl and said in a low voice, "She has good grades, she's in the top three in the class. The teacher has praised her by name several times."

He put down his chopsticks and rubbed his fingers on the edge of the table as he said this: "Then, when the meeting ended, a classmate recognized me. He said, 'Ma Xiaoxiao's dad cuts stones.'"

Wen Zhaoye put down his chopsticks and looked at him.

Ma Guoliang's voice lowered, as if afraid of being overheard: "Xiaoxiao didn't cry when she got home that night. She hid in her room and did her homework until eleven o'clock. The more sensible she is, the worse I feel."

He paused, picked up the bowl, took another sip of soup, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Boss Wen, I'm not afraid of hardship. I'm just afraid that Xiaoxiao will be looked down upon."

Wen Zhaoye looked at him.

The man's hands were covered in calluses and old wounds, his fingernails were embedded with stone powder, and he was still wearing clothes that were faded from washing.

He has been cutting stones for over a decade, and his knife skills are more precise than a machine's, but in this city, people call him "the stone cutter."

Wen Zhaoye put down his chopsticks. He reached into his pocket, took out the business license, and laid it out on the table.

The new store is named "Jianzhen Pavilion," and his name is listed as the legal representative.

Ma Guoliang glanced at it, somewhat puzzled: "What's this?"

"We've left you a three-meter worktop on the second floor at the corner." Wen Zhaoye looked at him. "Set a time; it's time to move in."

Ma Guoliang paused for a moment while holding the chopsticks.

He looked up, his eyes a little red.

"Boss Wen, are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Ma Guoliang remained silent.

He looked down at the bowl of noodles, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed the words back.

Finally, he picked up the bowl and drank all the noodle soup in it.

Then he wiped his mouth, stood up, walked to the counter, and took out a crumpled ten-yuan note and placed it on the table.

"Boss, I'll pay for the noodles."

"I've already given it," Wen Zhaoye said.

Ma Guoliang turned around and stood at the doorway. Sunlight streamed in, casting a long shadow of his short hair. "Boss Wen, I've asked Xiaoxiao to come over this weekend so you can meet her."

Wen Zhaoye remained seated without turning around.

"it is good."

Ma Guoliang turned and walked out.

Wen Zhaoye slowly finished the rest of the noodles.

As he put down his chopsticks, he suddenly remembered something his grandmother had once said: "Some people are worth helping because they won't ask you for help."

Ma Guoliang never asked him for anything.

He worked harder than anyone else, never complained, never slacked off, and never even asked for a raise.

At that time, Bao Dequan treated him like a beast of burden, but he didn't say a word.

Wen Zhaoye stood up and walked out of the noodle shop.

The sun was blazing, and cars were coming and going on the road.

When he returned to Jianzhen Pavilion, Ma Guoliang was already squatting at the base of the wall, continuing to knock on it.

Sandpaper rubbed against the edges of the old stone-cutting platform, and dust danced in the beam of light.

He went inside, took the business license out of his bag, and walked to the east wall.

The nail for hanging the wooden plaque was still empty.

He flipped the business license over in his hand, facing the door, and then placed it on the counter. "Master Ma."

Ma Guoliang looked up at him.

"Why don't we move your control panel over this afternoon? The sooner we move it, the sooner we can get used to it."

Ma Guoliang paused for a moment, then smiled, and lowered his head to continue polishing the stone-cutting table: "We'll move it this afternoon."

Wen Zhaoye didn't say anything more and turned to walk to the backyard.

Sunlight streamed in through the narrow south-facing window, illuminating the freshly painted white walls, and a faint smell of cement lingered in the air.

He took out his wallet and pulled out the family photo from a hidden compartment.

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

He placed the photo against the wall, letting the sunlight shine directly on it.

Then he squatted down, looked at the photo, and said, "Dad, I've opened a shop." No one answered him.

But the mother in that family photo smiled with a warmer smile than before.

He stood up and put the photo back in the pocket of his wallet.

When I walked back into the store, Ma Guoliang was still working hard.

"Master Ma, I'll help you move this afternoon."

Ma Guoliang looked up and wiped his sweat: "No need, no need, I can do it myself."

"I'll help you," Wen Zhaoye said. "Then I'll print out your business card."

Ma Guoliang was stunned: "Business card? Why would I need a business card?"

"It reads: Ma Guoliang, Chief Stone Cutter of Jianzhen Pavilion."

Ma Guoliang's hand stopped on the sandpaper.

After a long time, he lowered his head and continued to grind the old stone-cutting table.

"Boss Wen, just let my daughter know that her father isn't a stone cutter, and that will be enough for me."

Wen Zhaoye remained silent.

He walked to the east wall and looked at the white wall.

The wooden plaque with the inscription "Jianzhen Pavilion" carved by carpenter Lao Zhou is still sitting in the corner, unhung.

Wait until he's steady on his feet before hanging him up.

Wen Zhaoye bent down, turned the wooden plaque over, and looked at the words on the back: "First year on the journey home".

His fingers traced the wood grain for a moment before he placed the wooden plaque against the wall.

He thought to himself: If there really is a way back, then it will start from the first day that Ma Guoliang's daughter calls him "Uncle Wen".