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

After Jianzhen Pavilion closed, Wen Zhaoye locked the shop door and pulled down the roller shutter.

He didn't rush to leave. Instead, he turned around, walked to the counter, and asked Sun Bo'an to sit down.

Sun Bo'an had just finished settling the last few accounts for the day, his reading glasses still perched on his nose, and he was about to close the account book in his hand.

"Old Sun, don't go yet."

Sun Bo'an looked up and saw Wen Zhaoye pour a cup of tea and place it on the counter, knowing that he had something to say.

Wen Zhaoye pushed the teacup in front of Sun Bo'an and sat down opposite him: "I want to talk to you about Qian Bohong."

Sun Bo'an's hand paused on the teacup for a moment.

He picked up the teacup, took a sip, and before speaking, twirled the teacup in his hand twice before putting it down.

"Qian Bohong is a man who is not loud or soft. He is the executive director of the provincial antique association. On the surface, he is an authority, but in reality, he is just a front man."

"White gloves?" "They're for laundering antiques of dubious origin for the wealthy." Sun Bo'an's fingers traced the rim of his cup. "What if you have something with an illegitimate provenance that you can't sell? Go to Qian Bohong. He'll issue you a certificate of authenticity, saying it's an heirloom, a legally collected item, and you can sell it openly and legally. Once an item passes through his hands, black market goods become legitimate."

Wen Zhaoye remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"The Lin family is one of his major clients," Sun Bo'an said in a low voice. "You know the Lin family in the provincial capital, right?"

"I've heard of it."

"The Lin family deals in antiques, whether smuggled, unearthed, or imported from abroad, all of which are authenticated and endorsed by Qian Bohong. Qian Bohong collects an authentication fee, the Lin family takes the goods and sells them, and both sides make a fortune. This chain of interests is no secret in the provincial capital's antique circle, but no one dares to touch him."

Sun Bo'an paused his finger on the rim of the cup as he spoke.

"Was that thing your son did also done by him?"

Sun Bo'an was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Back then, Qiming went to the provincial capital to appraise a Warring States period jade disc, which was genuine. Qiming examined it and found all the features to be correct, and issued an appraisal certificate. However, in front of everyone at the provincial treasure appraisal association, Qian Bohong said it was a high-quality fake. He spoke very harshly, saying that Qiming 'lacked expertise,' 'had poor professional skills,' and 'brought shame to the industry.'"

Sun Bo'an's voice began to tremble, but he suppressed it.

"After Qiming returned, he was fired by three appraisal agencies within a month. People in the industry said he was 'appraising fakes,' so who would dare to hire him? He couldn't take it anymore, and three months later he jumped from the fourth floor."

Sun Wenzhaoye's fist clenched under the counter. "It's not about that jade disc." Sun Bo'an looked up at Wenzhaoye. "Qiming is blocking the smuggling chain behind him. If Qiming proves that the jade disc is genuine, it will reveal its origin—it came from a robbed ancient tomb in the provincial capital. Qian Bohong can't let it become genuine, because he's the one who authenticated and endorsed it for the Lin family."

Wen Zhaoye took a deep breath: "Do you have any evidence?"

Sun Bo'an shook his head.

"He cleaned his mess very well," Sun Bo'an said. "The code name 'Money Master' on the ledger is solid evidence. But it's just a code name; there's no direct evidence pointing to him. He's been in this business for over twenty years, and he never leaves any handle that could be handed over to someone else."

Sun Bo'an stood up and patted Wen Zhaoye on the shoulder.

"You'll find it more useful to investigate along this line than to ask me. I'm heading back now, so lock the door early." Wen Zhaoye saw him to the door, watching him disappear into the twilight. The streetlights were already on, and Sun Bo'an's silhouette stretched long in the old street's lamplight. He walked slowly, as if each step was treading on memories.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the door until Sun Bo'an turned the corner before turning back into the shop. He locked the door again, walked back to the counter, and sat down.

The ledger was still locked in the secret compartment, but he didn't rush to take it out.

He sat behind the counter, looking at the newly hung wooden plaque on the wall, which gleamed with the warm color of wood under the light.

"Qian Bohong".

He read the name aloud.

Then he took out his phone, opened Qin Fei's WeChat, and sent a message:

"Help me find out about someone—Qian Bohong from the Provincial Antiques Association."

After sending the message, he placed his phone on the counter, his finger pausing on the screen. He remembered what Sun Bo'an had just said—"He wiped his butt very cleanly." Cleanly?

Wen Zhaoye opened the ledger, turned to page 37, and looked at the code name "Qian Shi" on the line.

He stared at those two words for a long time, then closed the ledger and locked it back in the secret compartment.

He didn't turn on the light, but sat behind the counter, looking at the streetlights outside the window.

The streetlights in the direction of the provincial capital stretched into a blurry band of light, like some kind of silent summons. He suddenly remembered something his grandmother had said: "Your father used to be like that too, never coming home until the middle of the night."

He took out his wallet, opened the inner compartment, and looked at the family photo.

In the photo, his father, Wen Tiankuo, stood at the back, his face blurred. He stared at that blurry face for a long time, then put the photo back in his wallet, stood up, and walked to the door. As he pulled back the shutter, his phone vibrated. He looked down and saw Qin Fei's reply: "What happened to him?"

Wen Zhaoye thought for a moment and replied with four words: "White gloves".

After sending the message, he put his phone in his pocket, locked the shop door, and stood at the entrance of Jianzhen Pavilion. Most of the shops on the old street were already closed, and the streetlights cast a dim yellow light on the stone-paved road.

He looked up at the wooden plaque on the wall, the three characters "Jianzhen Pavilion" gleaming under the light.

Then he turned and walked to the other end of the street.

The provincial capital was in the direction of him.