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

Wen Zhaoye closed the ledger behind the counter. He moved his fingers away from the words "Lin's Culture" and instead reached into the inner pocket, pulling out the red cloth bag.

He held the red cloth bundle in his hand for a while before untying it.

The broken bracelet lay on the cloth, the two characters on the inside clearly visible under the light—"Tian Kuo". He turned on the flashlight on the counter, aimed it at the broken edge, and the light shone through the gap, casting a thin shadow on the wall.

"Still watching?"

Sun Bo'an came out from behind the counter and stood next to him, his gaze falling on the broken edge of the bracelet.

"I've been watching for days, have you figured it out yet?"

Wen Zhaoye placed the bracelet on the counter and stared at the two words for a few seconds: "Uncle, before I go to the provincial capital, I want to find someone first."

"Who?"

"The person who saw my father for the last time." Sun Bo'an paused for a moment, tapped his fingers twice on the counter, and then took out a business card from his pocket.

The business card was yellowed and the corners were curled up. The writing was a bit blurry, but still legible—"Zhou Demao, antique collector in the provincial capital," followed by a small line of landline number, even the area code was old-fashioned. "The year Tian Kuo disappeared, someone came to Jiangcheng looking for him," Sun Bo'an said, pushing the business card in front of Wen Zhaoye. "He stayed at the old guesthouse on Xinhua Road. This person's surname was Zhou, and he was an antique collector." Wen Zhaoye took the business card, his fingertips pausing on the paper.

How did he find you?

"He first went to the jade market, asked around, and finally came to me," Sun Bo'an said. "He said he had met your father once in the provincial capital and heard that your father had gone missing, so he wanted to inquire about him."

"Did you tell him?"

"I didn't say much." Sun Bo'an picked up his teacup and took a sip. "At that time, I didn't know what had happened to your father. I only knew that he had disappeared. Old Zhou sat at my place for an afternoon, drank three pots of tea, and left this business card, saying that if I had any news, I should call this number."

Wen Zhaoye turned the business card over, and on the back was written a line of penmanship: "Old Guesthouse on Xinhua Road, Room 201".

"And then?"

"I called again later," Sun Bo'an put down his teacup. "The call went through, but no one answered. When I called again, the number was disconnected."

He paused, glancing at the business card in Wen Zhaoye's hand: "Thirty years have passed; this number has probably been changed long ago. But Old Zhou should still be in the provincial capital."

Wen Zhaoye tucked the business card into his wallet, placing it next to the family photo: "Uncle, do you know what he looks like?"

"Tall and thin, wearing glasses, and speaking slowly." Sun Bo'an thought for a moment, "I remember he had a scar on his right index finger, which he said was from being cut by a shard of porcelain when he was collecting antiques in his early years."

"The provincial capital is so big, how am I supposed to find it?"

"He used to live on Xinhua Road; the old guesthouse there is still there," Sun Bo'an said. "Go there and ask; maybe someone remembers him. Even if you can't find him, you can at least find some clues."

Wen Zhaoye put his wallet back in his inner pocket, stood up, and glanced out the window. Dusk was falling, and the streetlights in the direction of the provincial capital were turning on again.

"Uncle, what do you think happened to my father back then?" Sun Bo'an didn't answer immediately. He walked to the counter, picked up the bracelet broken in two, examined it against the light, and then put it back on the table. "I've met your father a few times," he said. "The last time I saw him was in the provincial capital. That year he came to me and asked if I knew any shops in Jiangcheng that bought old items. I asked him what they bought, and he said they bought a piece of jade—a piece of jade that his father left behind."

Wen Zhaoye's breath hitched. "Did he find the jade?"

"Found it," Sun Bo'an said. "It's in the jade market, in the hands of an old stall owner. He bought it for three thousand yuan, and he was still smiling when he left, saying he'd finally found it."

"And then?"

"I never saw him again after that," Sun Bo'an sighed. "Until your grandmother came to me with that bracelet, saying it was the last thing your father left behind." Wen Zhaoye looked down at the bracelet on the table, his fingers tracing the characters "Tian Kuo" (meaning "vast expanse of heaven"). "Uncle, could that man surnamed Zhou know where my father went afterward?" "Possibly," Sun Bo'an said. "He was the last person to come to Jiangcheng to look for your father. If he didn't know either, then no one in the world would know."

He patted Wen Zhaoye on the shoulder: "It's getting dark, let's call it a day. I'll go with you to Xinhua Road tomorrow."

"No need, Uncle, I can go by myself."

"I'm worried about you going alone," Sun Bo'an said. "The provincial capital is not like Jiangcheng; you can't know the people there." He turned and walked behind the counter, took an envelope from the drawer, and handed it to Wen Zhaoye. "This is some money I've saved up over the past few years. Take it."

"Uncle, I can't accept it."

"Don't be so polite with me." Sun Bo'an stuffed the envelope into his hand. "I didn't want to get involved in your father's matter. But since you've decided to investigate, I can't let you go alone."

Wen Zhaoye held the envelope and pressed his finger on the paper.

"Thanks, Uncle."

"Alright, stop with the formalities." Sun Bo'an waved his hand. "Go back early, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."

Wen Zhaoye carefully put away the envelope and the red cloth bundle, stood up, and walked to the door. He glanced back at the bracelet on the counter, then at Sun Bo'an.

"Uncle, is the jade my father left behind still there?"

"It should still be there," Sun Bo'an said. "The old stall owner closed his shop later, and nobody knows where he went. But jade, as long as it's not broken, is still in this world."

Wen Zhaoye nodded and pushed open the door.

A night breeze blew in, carrying a chill.

He stood at the door, looking at the row of streetlights lit up in the direction of the provincial capital, and pressed his finger on the pocket of his wallet. "Dad, wait for me." He closed the door, and the lock clicked into place.