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

Wen Zhaoye didn't answer immediately. He placed his phone face down on the counter and tapped his fingertips lightly on the pear wood table twice, tap, tap, the rhythm was very slow, as if he was mentally weighing the chips in his hand.

After a few seconds, he spoke, his tone steady: "First, organize the evidence. Document all the material identification, authenticity comparisons, and aging techniques for each item, clearly indicating their source and basis."

"and then?"

"Then wait." Wen Zhaoye raised his eyes, a cold smile playing on his lips. "On the day of the provincial hearing, I'll put all this on the table again. Doesn't he want to crush me with the association's rules? Then I'll use the very rules he values ​​most to expose his true colors. If I don't strike, I won't strike; if I do strike, I'll make sure he can't recover."

Sun Bo'an looked at him and suddenly smiled again. This time, the smile was relaxed, as if a stone that had been pressing down for five years had loosened a bit.

"You and your father are just two of a kind."

Wen Zhaoye sensed the hidden meaning in his words and pressed further, "Do you even know my father?"

Sun Bo'an was silent for a moment, his fingertips tracing the rim of his teacup. "I wouldn't say I know him personally, but I've heard of him. More than twenty years ago, he was a tough guy in the antique world, someone who dared to speak the truth." After saying that, he picked up his teacup and took a big gulp, clearly not wanting to discuss the topic any further. Wen Zhaoye didn't press further, and continued organizing the information on his phone.

He entered each of the twelve problematic auction items into an encrypted folder, attaching detailed data and authentication evidence from the ShenTong readings for each item.

When he got to the huanghuali wood pen holder, he paused, his finger pausing: "Mr. Sun, do you know this Mr. Zhou Demao?"

Sun Bo'an leaned closer to look at the name: "Zhou Demao? A retired dentist, he's quite well-known in the huanghuali (Chinese rosewood) collecting circle, and he has over a hundred items in his collection. A few years ago, he contacted me, wanting me to appraise his collection, but I was busy with Qiming's affairs at the time and didn't have time to go."

"Then he was truly swindled out of this money."

"Yes, as you said."

After thinking for a moment, Wen Zhaoye added Zhou Demao's information to the folder as well.

"Are you planning to help him seek justice while you're at it?" Sun Bo'an asked.

"It's not just a side effect." Wen Zhaoye shook his head. "At the hearing, I want Qian Bohong to stand up and explain why a retired old man who saved up his whole life's money bought a counterfeit product. Doesn't he talk about industry rules? Scamming an uninformed old man, what kind of rule is that?"

Sun Bo'an listened without saying anything, but nodded emphatically.

After recording the last message, Wen Zhaoye closed his phone, stood up, and stretched his neck. He heard a slight cracking sound in his cervical spine and realized he had been sitting for almost two hours.

The sunlight outside the window had moved from the east wall to the west wall, casting narrow, elongated patches of light on the floor. Ma Guoliang was still squatting beside the stone-cutting table, the rustling sound of sandpaper sharpening the blade never ceasing.

Wen Zhaoye glanced at the clock on the wall; it was 2:30 PM.

He sat down again, flipped the yellowed address book back to the cover, took a picture of the addresses of the three stores on the inside page with his phone, then closed the book and pushed it back to Sun Bo'an.

"Please keep this notebook safe. It was earned through our old friendship. Don't reveal it easily."

Sun Bo'an took the address book, bent down and put it back at the bottom of the drawer, and even put an old iron box on top of it.

"When are you planning to go to the provincial capital?" he asked, straightening up.

"I definitely need to go there before the hearing," Wen Zhaoye said. "Transaction records alone are not enough; I need to see the actual goods to be considered solid evidence. I need to investigate these three stores first and see if the goods displayed in the stores match the records on the books."

Sun Bo'an nodded, then suddenly seemed to remember something, reached into his pocket, pulled out a small brass key, and opened the locked drawer at the bottom of the counter.

He took out a brown paper envelope from it; the cover was already frayed.

"These are some things I've collected over the past few years." He gently pushed the envelope towards Wen Zhaoye, his movements slow, as if handing over something heavy. "It's all about Qian Bohong. It may not be entirely accurate, but I wrote it all down point by point. You can use it as a reference."

Wen Zhaoye took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a stack of handwritten manuscripts, several yellowed newspaper clippings, and photocopies of association documents. The edges of the papers were brittle, and some corners were stained with old watermarks that looked like tears.

He flipped through a few pages, which were filled with Qian Bohong's actions over the past five years—which directors were his protégés, which auctions he had manipulated behind the scenes, and which appraisal reports he had altered.

The handwriting changes from neat to messy, which shows how much energy the person who wrote these things had been holding back all those years.

"How did you accumulate so much?" Wen Zhaoye asked, looking up.

Sun Bo'an remained silent for a moment, his gaze falling on an old jade bracelet in the corner of the counter. It was a gift that Sun Qiming had brought him on his last trip home before his accident.

"I started taking notes after Qiming got into trouble." His voice was soft, but his enunciation was steady. "I didn't have the ability to overturn his case immediately, so I could only write it down bit by bit. I thought that one day I would be able to put all this in front of Qian Bohong."

Wen Zhaoye noticed that his fingers, which were gripping the temples of his reading glasses, had turned white and his knuckles were taut.

He carefully folded the envelope, put it in the pocket of his inner shirt, and kept it close to his body.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sun. I will settle Qiming's case and all these scores together."

Sun Bo'an didn't speak, but simply nodded, picked up his teacup, and took another sip.

The tea had gone cold, but he seemed not to notice.

Wen Zhaoye stood up and walked to the shop entrance, standing there for a while. The afternoon sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow on the black lacquered signboard of Jianzhen Pavilion.

Passersby strolled along the old street, carrying shopping baskets and chatting about everyday matters. No one knew that inside this newly opened shop, a scheme was being plotted against a bigwig in the provincial capital's antique circle.

He took out his phone, opened the encrypted folder, and the screen's light shone on his face. Twelve problematic items, three stores, a Qian Bohong hiding behind them, and the five-year-old unjust case against Sun Qiming.

He stood for a moment, then walked back to the counter, sat down, opened the memo app, and added three words after the title of the encrypted file: "Pending Verification".

Then he looked up at Sun Bo'an and said with certainty, "Old Sun, I'm going to the provincial capital tomorrow."

Sun Bo'an put down his teacup, looked up at him, and asked, "Which company should we investigate first?"

"We'll go to all three," Wen Zhaoye said, "but let's start with that huanghuali wood pen holder. Do you have Professor Zhou Demao's address or contact information?"

Sun Bo'an nodded, took out his phone's contacts, swiped a few times, and stopped at a name.

"He called me before, wanting me to appraise a batch of his collection. I didn't go, but I saved his number."

He read the number aloud, and Wen Zhaoye quickly wrote it down in his phone.

"Are you planning to contact him first?" Sun Bo'an asked.

"Hmm." Wen Zhaoye tapped his finger on the screen. "Words are not enough. I need to see the pen holder with my own eyes to confirm it. Only with physical evidence can the hearing stand."

Sun Bo'an didn't say anything more, but just nodded again.

Wen Zhaoye put his phone away, sat up straight again, opened the encrypted folder, and slowly flipped through the records page by page.

Sunlight streamed through the windowpane, falling on his hair and the thick stack of old papers on the counter. The shop was quiet, save for the soft rustling of Ma Guoliang sharpening his blades and the occasional rustling of turning pages.