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

He bent down, took another document from his canvas bag, and placed it flat on the long table. His movements were slow, so slow that everyone could see the old scars on his fingers. "Director Qian, this is the third one." He opened the document, page by page. Those standing in the front row could see that it was a handwritten expert report, the paper yellowed and the edges frayed.

"An independent appraisal report jointly issued by two retired appraisers, Lao Zhou and Lao Chen. All twelve high-priced auction items from the three antique shops under Director Qian's name have been appraised."

Wen Zhaoye pointed to one of the pages. "This Qing Dynasty official kiln famille rose vase sold for 1.2 million. The appraisal conclusion is: a modern Jingdezhen imitation. The aging technique is very sophisticated, but the distribution pattern of bubbles under the glaze does not match that of the three Qing emperors." He looked up at Qian Bohong.

"Director Qian, none of the twelve items in your three stores are genuine."

There was a two-second silence in the hall.

Then it exploded.

Some people in the gallery stood up, some took out their phones, and some whispered to the people next to them. The camera was still recording, the red dot flashing on and off.

"Old Zhou and Old Chen? They're in the audience today."

Wen Zhaoye's voice wasn't loud, but everyone could hear it clearly. In the front row of the audience, Old Zhou stood up, took off his reading glasses, and nodded to the judging panel. Old Chen, sitting next to him with a file folder in his arms, didn't get up but raised his hand to the judging panel.

The review panel's student A began exchanging frequent glances. Student B looked down, pretending to look at a document, but holding it upside down. Qian Bohong's fingers paused on the table, his knuckles turning white. His lips moved, but no sound came out. The review panel leader took off his reading glasses and looked at Qian Bohong: "Director Qian, what's your take on this report?" Qian Bohong remained silent.

He sat in the chair, his expression unchanged, but the "elderly" composure was gone. He glanced at the documents on the table, then at Old Zhou and Old Chen in the audience, and his lips twitched slightly. Then, he slowly lowered his right hand.

The head of the judging panel looked at his hand, remained silent for a few seconds, and then said, "Fifteen-minute recess."

He stood up and walked towards the conference room.

The judges' students, A and B, also stood up, but did not follow immediately. They exchanged a glance, lowered their heads, and quickly walked out.

In the hall, the discussions were like a boiling pot.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

Yu Tinglan stood up from the back row of the audience seats, walked to the long table, and placed the original handwritten appraisal report by Lao Zhou in front of Qian Bohong.

"Director Qian, this is Lao Zhou's original report. You can take another look at it." Qian Bohong's gaze lingered on the report for three seconds.

Then, he slowly lowered his right hand.

The head of the review panel tapped on the table: "Fifteen-minute recess."

He stood up and walked towards the conference room.

In the hall, the discussions were like a boiling pot.

In the audience, some people stood up, some took out their phones, and some whispered to the people next to them. The camera was still recording, the red dot flashing on and off.

Wen Zhaoye didn't move. He stood across the long table, looking at the documents spread out on it, his hand still resting on his canvas bag.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

Yu Tinglan walked to his side and lowered her voice, saying, "You have more evidence?"

Wen Zhaoye didn't turn around: "It's gone."

"Then you—" "That's enough." He said, "Old Zhou and Old Chen's appraisal reports are enough to give him a hard time." Yu Tinglan didn't say anything, but just stood next to him, looking at the documents spread out on the table.

Qian Bohong sat in the chair, without moving.

He glanced at the documents on the table, then at Old Zhou and Old Chen in the audience, and his lips twitched slightly.

Then, he slowly stood up.

"Wen Zhaoye," he said softly, but everyone could hear him, "you won."

He turned and walked towards the door. He stopped at the doorway and glanced back at Wen Zhaoye. "But your grandmother's score isn't over yet."

He pushed open the door and went out.

The door slammed shut with a bang, echoing down the corridor. The head of the review panel tapped on the table: "Fifteen-minute recess." He stood up and walked toward the meeting room.

The judges' students, A and B, also stood up, but instead of following immediately, they exchanged a glance, lowered their heads, and quickly walked out.

Inside the hall, a cacophony of voices erupted. In the audience, some stood up, some pulled out their phones, and some whispered to those next to them. The cameras continued recording, their red dots flashing intermittently.

Wen Zhaoye did not move.

He stood across the long table, looking at the documents spread out on it, his hand still resting on his canvas bag.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

Old Zhou walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder: "Young man, well done."

Wen Zhaoye nodded: "Thank you, Teacher Zhou."

Old Zhou smiled and said, "What are you thanking me for? I'm thanking myself. I've been holding this in for five years."

He turned and walked towards the door.

Old Chen followed behind him, and when they passed Wen Zhaoye, he patted him on the shoulder: "Next time you come to the provincial capital, come to my place for tea."

Wen Zhaoye nodded. The two disappeared through the doorway.

Yu Tinglan stood beside him, looking at the documents spread out on the table. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, "What are you going to do next?"

Wen Zhaoye bent down and put the documents into his canvas bag. "Go back and open the shop." "And then?"

"Then, let's wait for Qian Bohong's next move." He straightened up, slung his canvas bag over his shoulder, and walked towards the door.

He stopped at the door and glanced back at the hall.

It was empty except for the camera, which was still lit up with a red dot, recording the empty chair.

He pushed open the door and went out.

In the corridor, sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a warm glow on the floor tiles.

He stood in the sunlight, took out his phone, and sent Qin Fei a message: "The hearing is over. Qian Bohong said that Grandma's score isn't over yet."

After sending the message, he put his phone back in his pocket and headed for the stairs.

The sunlight shone on his back, casting a long shadow.

The wind in the provincial capital blew against my face, carrying the smell of dust and exhaust fumes.

He touched the family photo in the pocket of his wallet, pressing his finger along the edge of the photo.

Then, he quickened his pace.

The matter is not over yet.