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

The sun shines brightly in the backyard of Jianzhen Pavilion.

Yu Tinglan stood at the door, holding her phone in her hand, the screen still lit up.

The call had ended, but her father Yu Huaiyuan's voice still echoed in her ears—"Xuanji Pavilion has taken notice of what happened in Jiangcheng. Our Yu family cannot take sides at this time. Keep your distance from him."

She didn't reply.

To be honest, she didn't know how to respond.

Father is right. She is the holder of the Heavenly Secrets Disc fragment of the Yu family in this generation. Her initial intention in approaching Wen Zhaoye was indeed to verify whether the bloodline of that Wen family descendant had truly awakened.

This is the family's mission, a responsibility she has carried on her shoulders since she was twenty.

But the problem is—she can no longer tell whether she is completing a mission or genuinely wants to stay here.

In the courtyard, Wen Zhaoye squatted in front of a pile of waste materials, rubbing his fingers back and forth on the leather.

Ma Guoliang squatted down next to him, holding sandpaper in his hand, and drew a mark on the waste material to show him the structure of the fracture.

"Look, this fracture surface looks a bit dull, which means the internal structure isn't dense enough." Ma Guoliang turned the scrap material around. "Good material should have a smooth, oily fracture surface, feeling like a baby's skin."

Wen Zhaoye looked down, saying nothing, his fingertips tracing the broken edge. He was so focused on his gaze that he didn't notice the person standing at the door.

Yu Tinglan watched his retreating figure, remained silent for a few seconds, and then looked down at her phone.

She took out her phone, typed a line, deleted it, typed another line, and deleted it again.

Finally, biting his lip, he sent a message: "I will attend the hearing. Not in the name of the Yu family."

After sending the message, she put her phone in her pocket, turned around, and left.

Wen Zhaoye was looking down at the scrap when his phone vibrated.

He took it out, glanced at it, read the message, and paused for a moment.

He looked up and gazed at the backyard gate.

Yu Tinglan's figure was disappearing by the door frame. She didn't turn around, but walked very slowly, as if waiting for him to call her back, or as if waiting for herself to stop.

Wen Zhaoye didn't say anything, put his phone back in his pocket, and looked down to continue looking at the stone.

Ma Guoliang watched from the side without asking any questions.

Sun Bo'an, behind the counter, glanced at the direction Yu Tinglan had left, then at Wen Zhaoye, who was squatting on the ground looking at the stones, before lowering his head to continue flipping through his account book, muttering, "These young people nowadays, they can hold back even more than we did back then."

Wen Zhaoye didn't reply, but his finger paused on the scrap for a moment.

In the evening, the setting sun bathed the east wall of Jianzhen Pavilion in a warm yellow hue.

Yu Tinglan's car was parked at the entrance. She opened the door, got in, and started the engine, but didn't leave immediately.

She rolled down the car window and looked at Wen Zhaoye standing at the door.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the entrance of Jianzhen Pavilion, still clutching the piece of scrap in his hand, as if he had just come out of the backyard and hadn't had time to put it down yet.

Yu Tinglan looked at him and said, "What you owe me isn't money, it's trust."

After saying that, she didn't wait for his reply, but directly closed the car window and stepped on the gas.

The taillights gradually faded into the twilight, finally disappearing around the corner of the old street.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the door, watching her car disappear into the twilight.

He didn't say anything, he just stood there for a while, then looked down at the scrap in his hand and put it on the counter.

He took out his wallet, unzipped the inner compartment, and took out the family photo.

In the photo, the seven-year-old boy stands in the middle, his mother is smiling beside him, and his father, Wen Tiankuo, stands at the back, his face blurred.

He stared at the blurry face for a long time, then put it back in his wallet, zipped it up, and put it back in the inner pocket.

He turned around, locked the door of Jianzhen Pavilion, stood under the streetlight, and looked in the direction of the provincial capital.

The streetlights formed a blurry band of light, like some kind of silent guidance.

He took out his phone, opened the message Yu Tinglan had sent, and read it again.

"I will attend the hearing. Not in the name of the Yu family."

He stared at the words for a few seconds, then turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket.

He strode into the night. Behind him, the three characters on the wooden plaque of Jianzhen Pavilion gleamed warm yellow under the streetlights.

The lights in the old street are on.

It was 5:40 a.m., just as dawn was breaking.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the entrance of Jianzhen Pavilion, stuffing the black leather account book, bank statement printouts, and information about the Warring States jade disc case into an old canvas bag.

He zipped the zipper halfway, then unzipped it again, stuffing in the stack of notes that Sun Bo'an had sorted out the night before.

He looked up at the wooden plaque on the wall; the three characters "Jianzhen Pavilion" gleamed dimly in the morning light.

Ma Guoliang poked his head out from the second floor, clutching the old stone-cutting knife in his hand: "Boss Wen, are you gone?"

"Um."

"Hey, when you get back, let's sharpen this knife together." Ma Guoliang held up the knife and shook it. "You said the blade was dull last time, so I thought we could sharpen it together, it'll be easier."

Wen Zhaoye nodded: "Okay."

As he turned to leave, Ma Guoliang called out again, "Boss Wen!"

"Um?"

"If anyone bullies you in the provincial capital, call me back." Ma Guoliang scratched his head. "I may not be able to fight, but I can curse them out for you."

Wen Zhaoye smiled and said, "Okay."

He walked out of the jade market and hailed a taxi at the intersection.

"Master, the Second Municipal Hospital."

Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped at the entrance of the inpatient department.

Wen Zhaoye paid the bill and walked into the inpatient building carrying his canvas bag.

The elevator reached the seventh floor. He walked to the ICU floor, and a nurse at the nurses' station saw him and smiled, "Visiting Grandma?"

"Um."

"Grandma is in good spirits today; she even brushed her teeth by herself this morning."

Wen Zhaoye pushed open the ward door, and his grandmother was sitting by the bedside, holding a bunch of jasmine flowers and putting them into a glass bottle.

The flower stems were a bit long, and she couldn't get them in place properly no matter how many times she tried. The glass bottle wobbled on the bedside table.

"Grandma, let me do it."

Wen Zhaoye walked over, took the bouquet, broke off a section of the flower stem, and put it in the vase.

I adjusted the angle again so that the flower would face outwards.

Grandma watched him and laughed: "You can arrange flowers?"

"I saw you inserted it."

"How old were you when I was arranging flowers, and you already remember?"

"Remember."

Wen Zhaoye sat down on the edge of the bed and placed the canvas bag at his feet.

Grandma glanced at the bag but didn't ask what was inside.

"Grandma, I'm going to the provincial capital for a few days."

Grandma paused, the jasmine flower in her hand hanging in mid-air. "A few days?"

"It's uncertain. It could take three or four days if things go smoothly, but it could take a week if things go slowly."

Grandma didn't say anything. She put the jasmine flower into the vase, then picked up another flower and twirled it twice in her hand.

"Teruno." "Hmm?"

"Grandma can't read. Your dad made me learn, but I said I was too old to learn." Grandma put the flowers in the vase, looked up at him, "But your dad said something that I still remember to this day."

Wen Zhaoye remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"He said, 'A clear conscience fears no accusation.'" Grandma held his hand, which was covered in calluses and rough like sandpaper. "Your father never did anything wrong in his life. Neither did you."

Wen Zhaoye looked at his grandmother's hands, the hands that had raised him from childhood, from Jiangcheng to the rented house, from age seven to twenty-four.

"Grandma, I remember."

He stood up, opened the inner compartment of the canvas bag, and took out an old wallet.

Unzip the inner compartment, and inside is the family photo—a seven-year-old version of myself, a smiling mother, and a father standing at the back, his face blurred.

He stared at the blurry face for a moment, then put the photo back and zipped up his jacket. "Grandma, I'm leaving."

"Go on." Grandma didn't try to stop him, she just patted his hand. "Buy something good to eat on the way, don't go hungry."

"understood."

Wen Zhaoye walked out of the ward, stood in the corridor for two seconds, and then turned and walked towards the elevator.

As he reached the elevator, the nurse chased after him, exclaiming, "Wen Zhaoye! Your grandmother asked me to give this to you!"

She was holding a plastic bag containing two tea eggs.

"When did she cook it?"

"She got up at four in the morning, saying she was worried you wouldn't have time to eat breakfast before catching your train." The nurse smiled. "Your grandma is so good to you."

Wen Zhaoye took the plastic bag. The bag was still warm, and he could feel the heat of the eggshell even through the bag.

He peeled a tea egg and ate it while standing at the hospital entrance.

The morning mist is dissipating in the direction of the provincial capital.

The seats in the train station waiting room were full of people.

Wen Zhaoye found a seat by the window and put his canvas bag on his lap.

He took out Bao Dequan's black leather ledger, turned to page thirty-seven, and the line was still there—"Zhou Guilan, bracelet, 280,000 yuan," and the code name "Master Qian" in the remarks column was glaringly obvious.

He closed the ledger, then took out his phone and opened the bank statement screenshot that Su Xiaoman had sent him.

The screenshot shows Bao Dequan transferring 200,000 yuan to an account ending in 7878. The word "money" in the recipient's remarks column looks like a needle stuck on the screen.

He looked at it for a while, then turned off his phone and stuffed both the ledger and his phone back into his canvas bag.

My fingers found the two notes in the bag: the addresses of Lao Zhou and Lao Chen, written clearly.

Old Zhou lives on the South Second Ring Road of the provincial capital, while Old Chen lives in the western suburbs of the provincial capital. The two addresses are separated by half a city.

Wen Zhaoye took out the note, read it again, and then put it back in the inner compartment of the canvas bag, together with the family photo.

He took out his phone and sent Qin Fei a message: "I'm on the train. Send any news from the provincial capital to this number."

The phone vibrated less than ten seconds after the message was sent.

Qin Fei replied with a single word: "Okay".

He turned off his phone screen and looked out the window.

The railway tracks stretched into the distance, and the direction of the provincial capital was faintly visible in the morning mist.

He touched the note in the inner pocket; Old Zhou and Old Chen's addresses were written clearly.

The train started moving, and the platform outside the window began to move backward.

One by one, the buildings in Jiangcheng receded, and the old city, the jade market, and the Second Municipal Hospital gradually became distant outlines.

Wen Zhaoye leaned against the window, holding the plastic bag in his hand. There was still one tea egg left in the bag.

He peeled the last tea egg, ate it slowly, and looked out the window at the scenery. The road in the provincial capital began to slip under his feet.