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

Gu Qinghan put down the tea set, walked three steps away from Wen Zhaoye, and stopped. "My name is Gu Qinghan," she said calmly, as if commenting on the nice weather. "My master sent me to see you."

Wen Zhaoye gripped the canvas bag strap, his fingers tightening. He stared at the woman, around twenty-three years old, wearing a gray long gown, her hair tied back neatly. When she spoke, her eyes were calm, like an unfathomable well.

"Who is your master?"

Gu Qinghan didn't answer. She turned around, pushed open the half-closed wooden door of the teahouse, and glanced back at him. "Come in and sit down."

Wen Zhaoye stood at the doorway. Across the street, Sun Bo'an leaned against his motorcycle, smoking, and nodded to him. He hesitated for two seconds, then followed him into the teahouse.

The teahouse was small and simply furnished. There was a wooden counter, a few bamboo chairs, and a potted green ivy in the corner, its leaves drooping to the ground. There was a faint herbal scent in the air, not the aroma of tea, but a slightly bitter one.

Gu Qinghan walked behind the counter, picked up a purple clay teapot, and poured tea into two cups. The tea was yellowish in color and had a refreshing aroma.

She walked up to Wen Zhaoye with her cup, put one down, picked up another, and sat down on the bamboo chair opposite him. "Snow chrysanthemums from Kunlun Mountain," she said. "My master sends some down every year."

Wen Zhaoye picked up his teacup but didn't drink. He stared into Gu Qinghan's eyes, trying to see something in them, but those eyes were too quiet; he couldn't discern anything.

"Why did your master send you to see me?" Gu Qinghan picked up her teacup, took a sip, put it down, and then looked up at him. "Because your eyes have awakened."

Wen Zhaoye's hand, which was holding the teacup, stopped. He felt something sink into his chest, like a stone falling into water.

"What kind of eyes?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Gu Qinghan said. "What you see is different from what others see."

The teahouse was quiet, save for the sound of the wind rustling the leaves of the pothos plants in the corner. Wen Zhaoye stared at her, his mind racing. He remembered the pale golden characters when his divine eyes awakened, and he remembered what Sun Bo'an had said—"The Lin family in the provincial capital might know something about your father."

He put down his teacup and ran his fingers along the rim.

"Who is your master?"

Gu Qinghan put down her teacup, stood up, and walked to the door. She pointed in the distance toward the Provincial Capital Antique Association, her finger pausing in mid-air.

"You'll find out once you've investigated the Lin family."

She turned and went back behind the counter, stopped talking, and began to tidy up the tea set, just like an ordinary teahouse owner who was about to close up shop.

Wen Zhaoye sat on the bamboo chair for a while, then stood up and put the teacup back on the table. He walked to the door and glanced back at the half-closed wooden door.

"Thank you for the tea."

Gu Qinghan didn't look up, but simply hummed in response.

Wen Zhaoye pushed open the door and stood in front of the teahouse. The sunlight was perfect, shining on his shoulders. He glanced back at the wooden door, above which hung a sign with the character "Han" (寒), the calligraphy beautiful, as if it had been used for a long time. He took out his phone, opened his contacts, found Qin Fei's name, and sent a message:

"Help me find out about someone, surnamed Gu, a woman, who runs a teahouse on Xinhua Road in the provincial capital." After sending the message, he waited a few seconds, and his phone vibrated.

Qin Fei replied: "Why investigate her?"

"She knows me," Wen Zhaoye typed. "She said her master sent her to see me."

"About your father?"

"It should be."

The phone was silent for a few seconds, then vibrated again: "Okay, I'll check. Be careful, don't believe just anyone."

Wen Zhaoye put his phone back in his pocket and walked across the street. Sun Bo'an leaned against his motorcycle, his cigarette finished. He stubbed it out and looked up at him.

"Finished talking?"

"We're done talking."

"How so?"

Wen Zhaoye glanced back at the teahouse; the wooden door was half-open, so he couldn't see what the people inside were doing.

She said her master sent her to see me, but she didn't say who her master was.

Sun Bo'an paused for a moment, then took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a puff. "The surname Gu is not common in the provincial capital."

"Uncle, you know her?" "No." Sun Bo'an exhaled a puff of smoke. "But I know someone else, also surnamed Gu, who lives deep in the mountains." "Who?"

“Xuan Kongzi,” Sun Bo’an said, “He is the Grand Elder of Xuanji Pavilion. An old friend of mine mentioned that he has a closed-door disciple whose surname is Gu.”

Wen Zhaoye was taken aback. He had never heard of this name before. "What is Xuanji Pavilion?"

"An old sect, over in the Kunlun Mountains," Sun Bo'an said. "My old friend said that the people from the Xuanji Pavilion don't often go down the mountain, but when they do, it's for something big."

He glanced in the direction of the teahouse, then at Wen Zhaoye.

"Your father's situation is probably more complicated than I thought."

Wen Zhaoye stood by the street, looking at the teahouse and the half-open wooden door. He remembered Gu Qinghan's words—"Your eyes have awakened." How did she know? "Uncle, what else did your old friend say about the Qi Prince's tomb?"

"He only said one sentence." Sun Bo'an threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. "He said, 'Don't dig up things you shouldn't dig, and don't look at things you shouldn't look at. Otherwise, you'll run into people you shouldn't mess with.'"

Wen Zhaoye paused for a moment, then looked up in the direction of the Provincial Capital Antique Association. Qian Bohong's office was over there, as was the Lin family's headquarters. He took out his phone and glanced at Qin Fei's reply. She had already sent a message: "Found it, Gu Qinghan, female, 33 years old, owner of Han Tea House on Xinhua Road in the Provincial Capital, no property under her name, her ID card registered address is a town in the Kunlun Mountains."

Wen Zhaoye stared at his phone screen for a few seconds, then typed: "Can you find out who she's in contact with?"

"I can't find it. Her phone number is encrypted, and I don't have the necessary permissions." "That's enough." Wen Zhaoye put his phone back in his pocket and said to Sun Bo'an, "Uncle, let's go back to the guesthouse first."

The two walked towards the old guesthouse. Wen Zhaoye walked in front, his pace quick, while Sun Bo'an followed behind, his leg slightly lame, but he still kept up.

He pushed open the glass door of the guesthouse. The old man at the front desk was still wearing his reading glasses and looking at the register. He walked to the counter and placed his old business card on it. "Do you know Gu Qinghan from today?"

The old man looked up, glanced at the business card, then at Wen Zhaoye, remained silent for a few seconds, and then shook his head.

"I don't know her." "Her teahouse is right across the street, you see her every day, and you're telling me you don't know her?"

The old man took off his reading glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.

"She only came this spring and opened this teahouse. She doesn't talk much or smile much." He paused, "But when she arrived, I heard her make a phone call and say, 'Master, I've arrived.'"

Wen Zhaoye's heart tightened. "Did you hear what her master said?"

"I didn't hear it, she hung up quickly," the old man said. "But I saw her stand on this street after she hung up, looking towards the guesthouse, for a long time." Wen Zhaoye turned his head and looked out the window. The door of the teahouse was still half-closed, but there was no one at the door.

He took out his phone and glanced at Qin Fei's reply again—"A town on the other side of Kunlun Mountain." He remembered that someone had also gone to Kunlun Mountain the year his father disappeared.

He stood there for a while, then turned around and said to Sun Bo'an, "Uncle, I'm going to Kunlun Mountain tomorrow."

Sun Bo'an paused for a moment, then sighed. "Have you thought it through?" "Yes," Wen Zhaoye said. "I can't keep waiting for others to tell me about my father." He walked out of the guesthouse, stood at the door, and looked at the teahouse. The sunlight was perfect, shining on the "Han" signboard, making the character appear very clean in the light.

He took out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and found Gu Qinghan's name—the name he had asked her for at the teahouse earlier. He hesitated for a moment, then pressed the dial button.

The phone rang twice and was answered.

"Feed?" "Gu Qinghan, I am Wen Zhaoye."

"Um."

"What's your master's name?" There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then a voice came through, soft but clear:

"Xuan Kongzi".

The phone hangs up.

Wen Zhaoye held his phone, standing in front of the old guesthouse on Xinhua Road, looking at the teahouse and the half-closed wooden door, remaining silent for a long time.