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

He stood across the long table, his hand still resting on his canvas bag. Only he and Yu Tinglan remained in the empty hall.

On the judges' panel, shards of Qian Bohong's teacup lay on the floor, the tea already drained, leaving a light brown mark on the floor tiles, like a dried-up river.

Yu Tinglan stood in the back row, neither speaking nor approaching. She just stood there, watching him.

Wen Zhaoye slowly zipped up the canvas bag, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to walk towards the door.

He stopped when he reached the door.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. They were light and steady, like rhythmic tapping on the floor tiles.

Then the door was pushed open.

The secretary stood at the door, holding a document in a manila envelope stamped with the official seal of the provincial antique association. She glanced at Wen Zhaoye, then handed him the document.

"Mr. Wen, this is the association's official notification."

Wen Zhaoye took the envelope and pressed his finger on the paper. He didn't open it immediately, but looked at his secretary. "It was decided three days ago?" he asked.

The secretary didn't say anything, just nodded, then turned and left.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the door and opened the envelope. The paper was thin, but it was stamped with a red seal and had a few lines written on it—"Qian Bohong is relieved of his position as executive director of the Provincial Capital Antique Association."

Its appraisal qualification was revoked.

The ban was simultaneously lifted. The case of the Warring States jade disc was transferred to the judicial authorities for retrial. Wen Zhaoye's finger paused on the paper. He read it twice. Then he looked up and gazed out the window. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, casting a warm glow on the gray brick wall.

He took out his phone and scrolled to the top of his contacts. Sun Bo'an. The phone rang for three seconds before he answered.

A hoarse, aged, and weary voice came from the other end of the phone: "Feed?"

Wen Zhaoye gripped the phone, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Uncle, the matter of the jade disc needs to be re-examined." There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Five seconds. Ten seconds.

Then, a suppressed sob was heard. It was intermittent, like the sound of an old person who had been holding back for a long time finally being able to cry. It wasn't a loud wail, but a sob squeezed out from the throat, a choked sob that had been suppressed for five years.

"Uncle, did you hear that?"

On the other end of the phone, Sun Bo'an's voice trembled uncontrollably: "I heard it... I heard it..." Wen Zhaoye did not hang up.

He stood in the corridor, letting the voice flow through the receiver. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on him and casting a long shadow on the floor tiles.

Yu Tinglan walked out of the hall and stood two steps behind him. She didn't say anything, but simply placed a glass of water on the windowsill next to him.

Then he stepped back and remained standing. Wen Zhaoye hung up the phone, picked up his water glass, and took a sip. The water was lukewarm.

He turned around, preparing to walk towards the stairwell. Then he saw Qian Bohong.

At the end of the corridor, near the elevator, Qian Bohong stood, clutching a briefcase, his face ashen. He stared at Wen Zhaoye, his gaze sharp as a knife. Wen Zhaoye neither flinched nor moved.

The two men stood facing each other across the twenty-meter-long corridor. Qian Bohong's fingers clenched tightly on the doorframe, his knuckles turning white. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.

Then he turned around and walked into the elevator without looking back. The elevator doors closed, the floor indicator light flickered, and it started to descend.

Wen Zhaoye stood there, staring at the numbers flashing above the elevator doors. 1…2…3…

The number kept getting smaller and smaller until it stopped on the first floor.

Wen Zhaoye withdrew his gaze, placed the water glass back on the windowsill, then turned and walked towards the stairwell.

"Let's go." Yu Tinglan followed behind him without saying a word.

The two walked down the stairs, one after the other. The only sound in the stairwell was their footsteps, one after another, rhythmically treading on the concrete steps.

As I stepped out of the antique association's gate, the sunlight shone directly on my face. A breeze from the provincial capital blew in, carrying the warmth of early spring and the smell of dust.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the door, took out his phone, and glanced at it.

Qin Fei sent a message: "I heard about the results. Congratulations."

There was another message, sent thirty seconds later: "I'll keep an eye on Qian Bohong's side." Wen Zhaoye didn't reply, put his phone back in his pocket, and walked towards the train station.

He took a few steps and then stopped. He looked back at the antique association building behind him.

Gray brick walls, faded plaques, sunlight reflecting off the glass windows.

He touched the family photo in his wallet's inner pocket, pressing his finger along the edge of the photo. Then he continued walking. Yu Tinglan followed beside him, silent for a moment, before asking, "What are you planning to do next?"

"Go back and open the shop," Wen Zhaoye said, "and then wait for the results of the Warring States Jade Disc case." "Aren't you afraid of Qian Bohong's retaliation?"

"I'm afraid," Wen Zhaoye said, "but even if I'm afraid, I have to open it."

He paused, then added, "My grandma is waiting for me to go back and water her jasmine flowers."

Yu Tinglan didn't speak, but the corners of her mouth twitched slightly. The two continued walking. The wind of the provincial capital blew on their faces, carrying the warmth of early spring.

Wen Zhaoye took out his phone, opened his contacts, found Sun Bo'an's number, and glanced at the call log—47 seconds.

He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.

The antique association building behind him stood quietly in the sunlight. Inside the elevator, Qian Bohong leaned against the wall, his face deathly pale. His hand, clutching his briefcase, trembled. The elevator doors opened, but he didn't get out; he simply stood there, staring at the flickering floor indicator light.

After a long silence, he took out his phone and dialed a number. When the call connected, he only said one sentence: "The Warring States jade disc case needs to be retried."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then a deep voice said, "Understood."

Then the call ended.

Qian Bohong stood in the elevator, looking at the call log on his phone screen, his finger pausing on the screen for a moment.

Then he put away his phone and stepped out of the elevator. The lobby of the provincial antique association was bustling with people.

No one noticed him. He walked out the door, stood in the sunlight, and glanced back at the place where he had worked for twenty years.

Then he turned around and walked away without looking back.