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

Wen Zhaoye stepped through the hidden door first, his footsteps muffled on the stone steps, like stepping on a hollow drumhead. Gu Qinghan followed behind him, the beam of her flashlight shining over her shoulder, cutting a bright line through the narrow passage.

The stone steps were narrow, allowing only one person to walk at a time. Two people side by side would be too cramped. Wen Zhaoye held onto the wall with one hand and held a flashlight in the other, the beam of light flickering in the darkness, illuminating the bluish-gray moss on the stone wall. There was a damp, earthy smell in the air, mixed with a hint of metallic rust, the kind of smell that only comes from places that haven't been visited in a long time.

The two walked for about five or six minutes without saying a word.

Only the sounds of footsteps and breathing were particularly clear in this enclosed space.

The stone steps have come to a close.

Wen Zhaoye stopped and shone his flashlight forward—a bronze door blocked his way. The door wasn't large, about a meter tall, and its surface was covered with dense patterns, resembling some kind of design or writing. In the very center, there was a circular recess, about the size of a human hand.

Wen Zhaoye leaned closer to examine it. The edges of the groove were very smooth, as if it had been repeatedly polished by something. There were still some dark red traces inside, like blood that had dried for a long time. The four words Gu Qinghan had said flashed through his mind—"using blood as a catalyst."

"This is it." Wen Zhaoye said, handing the flashlight to Gu Qinghan, then took out the broken bracelet wrapped in red cloth from his canvas bag. He unwrapped the red cloth, took out the bracelet broken in two, and weighed it in his hand. Then he picked up one piece and looked at it in the flashlight beam; the two characters engraved on the inside reflected a cold light under the flashlight beam—Tian Kuo.

He took a deep breath, aligned the broken piece with the groove on the bronze door, and slowly inserted it. It fit perfectly.

It's like this thing was originally growing here.

Wen Zhaoye's finger paused at the edge of the fragment, and he could feel a very faint vibration coming from the other side of the bronze door, as if some mechanism had been triggered.

Then, the door opened.

It wasn't a loud bang, nor was it one of those exaggerated mechanical noises; it was just very quiet. A crack appeared in the middle, and then the entire door slowly opened inward, as if something was pushing it from behind.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the door and shone his flashlight inside.

Inside was a small stone chamber, about ten square meters in size, with moss and dust covering the walls. The air was dry, and the musty smell was gone. In the center of the chamber was a stone platform, and on the platform was a wooden box.

The wooden box was small, easily held in one hand, and its surface had turned black, as if it had been polished by time. It had no lock and no decorations; it simply sat on the stone platform.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the door, not moving.

He stared at the wooden box, his hand hovering in mid-air, his fingers clenching slightly.

Gu Qinghan stood behind him without saying a word. She simply shone the flashlight into the stone chamber, then leaned against the door and aimed the flashlight at the wooden box.

"Go in," she said softly. Wen Zhaoye nodded and stepped into the stone chamber.

His footsteps echoed through the stone chamber, each step firm and deliberate. He walked to the stone platform, looked down at the wooden box, paused his fingers on its surface for a moment, and then gently opened it.

Inside the wooden box lay a letter and a jade pendant. The letter was yellowed, its edges brittle, crumbling at the slightest touch. Neatly folded, it rested on top of the jade pendant—a piece of old-mine icy white jade, carved into a ruyi (a traditional Chinese scepter symbolizing good fortune), its surface warm and lustrous, gleaming with a faint oily sheen under the flashlight. Wen Zhaoye picked up the letter, running his fingers along its surface.

The paper was very thin and brittle, as if it would tear with the slightest force.

He carefully opened the letter, and the handwriting slowly appeared. The handwriting was beautiful, each stroke steady, as if written with great care. The handwriting was Wen Tiankuo's, exactly the same as the one he had seen in his father's notebook when he was a child. The letter read:

"Teruno, if you've made it this far, it means you've grown up."

"Your father's biggest regret in life is that he couldn't be there to watch you grow up."

"My greatest pride is that you finally came."

Three sentences. Very short.

Wen Zhaoye's finger stopped on the paper.

He stared at the three lines of text, reading each word carefully, his gaze lingering longest on the phrase "the greatest regret." His eyes reddened, but he didn't cry out loud; his Adam's apple bobbed slightly. Then, he gently folded the letter and placed it back in the wooden box.

He picked up the jade pendant and held it in his hand.

The jade was warm; I don't know if it was warmed by his hands or if it was naturally warm.

He held it for a moment, then put the jade pendant into his inner pocket, placing it together with the letter. Gu Qinghan stood at the door, not disturbing him. Her gaze wandered over the walls of the stone chamber, the beam of her flashlight slowly sweeping across the bluish-gray stone surfaces—the walls were covered with densely packed ancient characters, like a very long record.

She leaned closer to examine them. The characters were carved in seal script, the strokes deep and dark, some blurred but mostly still legible. She followed the characters, a thoughtful expression gradually forming on her face. "Your father left everything here," she whispered. Wen Zhaoye turned to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

"The inscription on this wall tells the story of the 'Nine Locks Seal'," Gu Qinghan said slowly, pointing to the ancient characters on the wall. "From the decline of the Zhou royal family three thousand years ago, when the Nine Tripods shattered, to the Wen family ancestor forging the Nine Locks and establishing a bloodline pact... to your father and master coming here thirty years ago... it's all recorded here."

Wen Zhaoye walked to the wall and looked up at the ancient characters. He couldn't understand a single one.

But he could sense that what was hidden in those words was far more significant than he had imagined. He reached out and touched the engravings on the wall, his fingertips slowly tracing the words, then withdrew his hand and glanced down at the location of the letter in the inner pocket.

"Let's go," he said.

Gu Qinghan glanced at him, asked no further questions, and turned to leave the stone chamber first. Wen Zhaoye stood in the stone chamber, taking one last look at the empty wooden box, then turned and followed her out. He paused at the bronze doorway, glancing back at the darkness outside. The stone steps descended, disappearing into the darkness, their destination unknown. He gripped the jade pendant in his inner pocket and stepped out. The bronze door slowly closed behind him with a dull thud.