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

The lobby on the third floor of the Provincial Capital Antiques Association.

Five people were sitting behind the long table, with Qian Bohong in the middle and two on each side.

The head of the judging panel sat on the far right, wearing reading glasses and holding a pen in his hand.

There were more than thirty people in the audience, mostly representatives from the association's member units. Two video cameras were set up in the back row, their red dots lit up, recording video.

Wen Zhaoye stood across the long table, his canvas bag at his feet.

Qian Bohong spoke first, his voice gentle and kind like that of an elder: "Fellow colleagues, today's hearing is not about assigning blame to anyone, but about upholding the rules of our antique industry."

He paused, glanced at Wen Zhaoye, and said, "In the antique business, it's all about having a discerning eye and integrity. Why did the association issue a blacklist against Mr. Wen? It's not about making things difficult for young people; it's about upholding the rules."

He spoke in a very gentle tone, as if he were chatting with a younger person.

Wen Zhaoye didn't say anything, he just stood there, his expression as calm as if he were waiting for a bus.

After finishing his opening remarks, Qian Bohong changed the subject: "Mr. Wen, the reason I invited you here today is to ask you to explain the Yu Mantang incident and some of your subsequent actions."

He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped on the table: "You have ten minutes."

Wen Zhaoye bent down, took out a black leather ledger from his canvas bag, opened it, and found page thirty-seven.

He raised his head and looked at Qian Bohong: "Director Qian, let me state my conclusion first."

"In Bao Dequan's ledgers, from three years ago to now, all transactions marked with the code 'Qian Shi' were related to the production and sale of counterfeit goods. The average purchase price of these goods was less than one-tenth of the selling price. Most of the buyers were elderly people who trusted Yu Mantang because it was an established and reputable store."

He turned a page and continued, "During the interrogation, Bao Dequan confessed that the source of these counterfeit goods was the provincial capital. The contact person was recorded in the ledger as 'Master Qian'."

He glanced at Qian Bohong: "Director Qian, do you know this 'Master Qian'?"

There was a two-second silence in the hall.

Qian Bohong's expression remained unchanged, but the finger he was holding on the table twitched slightly.

"Mr. Wen," Qian Bohong said, "you're here today to explain your own behavior, not to accuse others."

His tone was still gentle, but the meaning was clear—don't go off-topic. Wen Zhaoye didn't argue, but pulled a note from between the pages of the ledger, unfolded it, and placed it on the table.

"This is a copy of Lao Zhou's handwritten appraisal report." He paused. "Lao Zhou is here today too."

In the back row of the audience, an elderly man with gray hair stood up.

Old Zhou was wearing a gray jacket and holding a brown paper envelope in his hand.

He walked to the front row and placed the envelope on the table in front of the judging panel.

"This is the original appraisal report," said Lao Zhou, his voice a little hoarse. "I wrote it, and I stamped it."

The head of the review panel picked up the report, flipped through it, and then looked up at Qian Bohong.

Qian Bohong's expression didn't change, but the lines at the corners of his mouth tightened.

He was silent for a few seconds, then said, "Old Zhou, you're retired, why are you getting involved in the association's affairs?"

Old Zhou looked at him and said, "I wrote the report. We can discuss any opinions you may have."

Qian Bohong didn't respond, but simply said to Wen Zhaoye, "Continue."

Wen Zhaoye pulled out another piece of paper from the ledger; it was a printout of a bank statement sent by Su Xiaoman.

He pointed to the numbers above: "This is a record of Bao Dequan transferring 200,000 yuan to the account ending in 7878. The recipient is not Qian Bohong, but Qian Bohong's cousin, Qian Yunlai."

He paused, then pulled out another piece of paper: "This is a record of transfers from Lin's Cultural Media to Qian Yunlai's account. Three transactions, totaling 760,000."

He looked up, meeting Qian Bohong's eyes: "Director Qian, how does your cousin's account have any connection with Lin's Culture?"

People in the hall began to whisper among themselves.

In the audience, some people took out their phones, while others whispered to the people next to them.

The camera is still recording, the red dot flashing on and off.

Qian Bohong tapped his knuckles twice on the table. The sound wasn't loud, but it was enough to silence the murmurs.

"Mr. Wen," he said, his voice turning cold, "you came here today just to frame me?"

Wen Zhaoye didn't respond to him, and instead pulled out another document from his canvas bag.

"These are the transaction records of the three antique shops under Director Qian's name over the past three years, totaling twelve high-priced items, which have issues with the materials not matching the descriptions."

He paused for a moment: "One of the items, a Ming dynasty huanghuali brush pot, sold for three times its market price. The buyer was Lin Boyuan."

He placed the documents on the table and looked at Qian Bohong: "Director Qian, Lin Boyuan bought things from your shop using your cousin's account. How do you plan to settle this?"

The hall fell completely silent.

The head of the review panel took off his reading glasses, looked at the documents on the table, and remained silent for a long time.

Qian Bohong sat in his chair, his expression still composed, but his hand under the table was clenched into a fist.

He stared at Wen Zhaoye, his gaze sharp as a knife.

Wen Zhaoye didn't dodge; he just stared at him.

After a dozen seconds, Qian Bohong spoke, his voice very soft: "Wen Zhaoye, are you here to cause trouble today?"

"No," Wen Zhaoye said, "I'm here to prove that I haven't broken any rules."

He picked up the ledgers on the table: "Bao Dequan's ledgers, bank statements, Lao Zhou's appraisal report, Qian Lishi's antique shop's transaction records—these things are all interconnected."

He looked at Qian Bohong: "Director Qian, you are the executive director of the association. You should know better than me whether these matters are sufficient to warrant filing a case?"

Qian Bohong remained silent.

The head of the review panel took off his reading glasses, glanced at Wen Zhaoye, then at Qian Bohong, and said, "Mr. Wen, our association needs time to verify the evidence you have."

"Okay," Wen Zhaoye said, "but the ban must be lifted first."

He paused, then looked at the head of the review panel: "Would you like to take a look at the appraisal report for the Warring States jade disc case now?" A murmur of discussion broke out in the hall again. The head of the review panel glanced at Qian Bohong, whose expression had already changed.

Qian Bohong's lips twitched. He looked at Wen Zhaoye with murderous intent in his eyes.

But he didn't say anything.

The head of the review panel was silent for a few seconds, then said, "The ban is temporarily lifted."

Qian Bohong suddenly turned his head and looked at the team leader: "Old Zhou—"

"Enough," the team leader interrupted him. "Director Qian, you were the one who proposed this hearing today. Now the evidence is right here. How can I possibly protect you?"

Qian Bohong tapped his fingers on the table, then slowly stood up.

He looked at Wen Zhaoye and said softly, "Young man, you've won."

He turned and walked towards the door.

He stopped at the door, glanced back at Wen Zhaoye, and said, "But you haven't quite hit the bottom of the provincial capital yet." He pushed open the door and went out.

The hall erupted in a flurry of discussion.

The head of the review panel took off his reading glasses, rubbed his temples, and then looked at Wen Zhaoye: "Mr. Wen, the association will carefully verify your evidence. The ban has been lifted, and you can operate normally now."

Wen Zhaoye nodded, bent down and put the account books and documents into the canvas bag.

Old Zhou walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Kid, you've got some skills."

Wen Zhaoye smiled and said, "Thanks, Old Zhou." Old Zhou waved his hand, turned around, and left.

In the audience, Old Chen stood up with the file folder in his hand, glanced at Wen Zhaoye, nodded, and then left.

Yu Tinglan stood up from the last row and walked to Wen Zhaoye's side.

She didn't say anything, she just handed him the phone.

A text message appeared on the screen, sent by Qin Fei: "I know about the hearing. There are people investigating you in the provincial capital."

Wen Zhaoye stared at his phone screen, remaining silent for a few seconds. Then he handed the phone back to Yu Tinglan: "Let's go, let's go back first."

Yu Tinglan nodded, and the two walked out of the hall together.

Behind me, the camera was still recording, the red dot flashing on and off.

In the corridor, Qian Bohong's figure had already disappeared around the corner of the stairs.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the entrance of the hall and glanced at the gray sky over the provincial capital.

The hearing was won.

But the real storm has only just begun.