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

The SUV drove forward into the night.

Wen Zhaoye sat in the passenger seat, holding the short sword. The character "Xuan" on the hilt felt slightly cool in his palm. He rubbed it with his thumb; the character was deeply engraved, probably drawn stroke by stroke with the tip of a knife.

The streetlights outside the window swept past one by one, their light sliding across the windshield and illuminating Gu Qinghan's profile. She didn't speak, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the road ahead.

Wen Zhaoye placed the short sword on his knee and tapped the blade lightly twice with his fingers. Then he looked up and gazed out the windshield.

The lights of the provincial capital are approaching.

At first, those points of light were just a blurry patch in the distance, like scattered gold dust. As they drew closer, the points of light transformed into lamplight, the lamplight connected into lines, and the lines wove into a net. The entire city shone in the night, like a giant beast lying on the ground, breathing steadily.

Wen Zhaoye looked at it for a few seconds, then took out his phone.

The signal has been restored to full strength.

He scrolled through his contacts, found Sun Bo'an's number, and dialed it. The phone was answered after two rings.

"Feed?"

Sun Bo'an's voice came through the receiver, a little hoarse, as if he had just woken up, or as if he hadn't slept at all. "Uncle, I'm back."

Wen Zhaoye said that his voice was not loud, but it was very steady.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by the sound of a chair being pulled out and a teacup hitting the table. "The arrangements for Jianzhen Pavilion will begin tomorrow." Sun Bo'an didn't ask what had happened to him in Kunlun Mountain, nor when he had arrived. The old man was silent for a moment, then said, "Okay. I'll open the shop first thing tomorrow morning."

"Um."

"Where are you?"

"We're almost in the provincial capital." "Have you arranged your accommodation?"

"It's all arranged."

There was another moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Sun Bo'an said, "Okay. See you tomorrow." "See you tomorrow."

Wen Zhaoye hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. He leaned back in his seat and looked out the window. The lights of the provincial capital were getting closer and closer, the streetlights forming a ribbon of light that stretched from in front of the car into the depths of the city.

Gu Qinghan didn't turn her head, but her grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. "Is the teahouse still open?"

Wen Zhaoye asked, his voice calm. Gu Qinghan was silent for two seconds, then said, "Open."

"The first drink is free."

Her voice remained calm, as if she were simply saying that the weather was nice today. But Wen Zhaoye noticed that the knuckles of her hand gripping the steering wheel had turned slightly white.

Wen Zhaoye tucked the short sword into his waistband, placing it alongside his key and jade pendant. He adjusted his posture, his gaze fixed ahead, and said:

"Then I'll go drink tomorrow."

Gu Qinghan didn't speak, but she nodded.

The car continued forward, the lights of the provincial capital drawing ever closer. The streetlights slid across the windshield, flickering on and off, like a silent rhythm. Wen Zhaoye leaned back in his seat, his hand resting on the short sword at his waist. The character "Xuan" on the hilt felt slightly cool in his palm, but he didn't feel cold.

He remembered the light inside the cauldron, the human-shaped silhouette of his father curled up deep inside the cauldron, and the frequency of that light's pulse. Then he remembered the letter his father had left behind, and the sentence in it—"Your father's greatest regret in life is not being able to watch you grow up."

He said to himself: Dad, I'm back. Not because I ran away.

Yes, they came back.

The car turned onto the main road of the provincial capital. The streetlights became more numerous, and the shops on both sides of the street were already closed, with only a few convenience stores still lit. There were few cars on the road, and it was so quiet that you could hear the sound of tires rolling over the pavement. Gu Qinghan parked the car at the entrance of an alley and turned off the engine.

"arrive."

Wen Zhaoye looked out the window. The alley was narrow, with old-fashioned residential buildings on both sides, their walls covered with vines. The streetlights cast a dim yellow light, making the entire alley half bright and half dark.

"Where is this?"

"Downstairs from my apartment."

Gu Qinghan said, then opened the car door and got out.

Wen Zhaoye got out of the car and stood in the alley, watching Gu Qinghan take a travel bag out of the trunk and sling it over his shoulder.

"You live here?"

"Um."

Gu Qinghan pointed to a window on the third floor. The window was dark and the light was off.

"What time tomorrow?"

"What time?"

"Have some tea."

Wen Zhaoye thought for a moment and said, "Ten o'clock in the morning."

Gu Qinghan nodded and turned to walk towards the stairwell. After taking two steps, she paused but didn't look back.

"Your short sword."

"Um?"

There was a whetstone in the scabbard.

Wen Zhaoye looked down at the short sword at his waist. The scabbard was indeed a bit thicker than usual, and there should be something hidden inside.

"When my master passed it on to me, it was already inside."

Gu Qinghan said, then continued walking forward without looking back.

"See you tomorrow."

Wen Zhaoye stood in the alley, watching her figure disappear into the stairwell. Then he looked down at the short sword at his waist, drew it from its scabbard, and sure enough, he felt a thin whetstone inside the scabbard, wrapped in oilcloth, wedged between the scabbard and the blade.

He put the whetstone back in, hung up the short sword, then turned and walked towards the alley entrance.

The provincial capital's nights are more lively than Jiangcheng's. Streetlights are on, and occasionally a taxi drives by, its headlights flashing by. The barbecue stalls along the street are still open, smoke rising and the aroma of cumin and chili wafting over. Wen Zhaoye stands by the roadside, takes out his phone, and checks the time—11:40 PM.

He thought for a moment and sent a message to Sun Bo'an: "Uncle, see you at Jianzhen Pavilion at 10 a.m. tomorrow."

Then I put my phone back in my pocket and hailed a taxi.

"Driver, to Xinhua Road." The taxi drove into the night, and the lights of the provincial capital flashed past the car window. Wen Zhaoye leaned back in his seat, his hand on the short sword at his waist, the character "Xuan" on the hilt feeling slightly cool in his palm.

He remembered Gu Qinghan's words—"The first drink is free." He remembered his own words—"Then I'll go drink it tomorrow."

His lips twitched, but he didn't actually smile.

The taxi weaved through the streets of the provincial capital, the streetlights flashing across the window. Wen Zhaoye looked out the window; the city lights shone in the night, like a giant net enveloping the entire city in a warm glow. He touched the jade pendant and key on his chest, then closed his eyes.

Tomorrow. He opened his eyes, looked at the street scene rushing past the window, and silently counted in his mind.

There are 368 days left until the winter solstice.