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

Wen Zhaoye read Qin Fei's text message twice, put away his phone, and headed to the hospital.

His mind was racing the whole way.

Bao Hu had contacted Qian Bohong's driver; this matter is not simple.

Qian Bohong is the executive director of the provincial antique association and was the supplier recommended by Bao Dequan.

The fact that Bao Hu, a street thug, could have connections with someone like this shows that Bao Dequan's connection to him hasn't been severed yet.

He doesn't have time to think too much right now.

Grandma is still in the hospital, the shop hasn't opened yet, and life goes on day by day.

The next morning, he went to the hospital to deliver breakfast to his grandmother, and then went to the jade market.

Before he even reached the door, he saw a crowd gathered in front of the bulletin board.

Only upon closer inspection did I see clearly—a seizure notice stamped with a red seal, posted in the most conspicuous position.

"Yu Mantang has suspended operations immediately due to suspected production and sale of counterfeit goods, pending investigation."

The onlookers chattered amongst themselves.

"I told you that Bao Dequan was selling counterfeit goods; he was bound to get into trouble sooner or later."

"I heard it was reported by one of the shop's employees?"

"What do you mean 'laborer'? He's the boss now."

Wen Zhaoye didn't squeeze in to watch the commotion. He stood on the outside and listened for a few moments before turning and walking towards his shop, which didn't yet have a sign.

Halfway there, someone called out to him.

"Boss Wen, Boss Wen!"

Wen Zhaoye turned around.

A middle-aged man in a jacket, carrying a bag, walked over with a smile.

"Who are you?"

"My surname is Wang, just call me Lao Wang." The man warmly offered me a cigarette. "Boss Bao asked me to come."

Wen Zhaoye didn't take the cigarette. "Bao Dequan?"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Bao, your previous boss," Old Wang lowered his voice, "He asked me to talk to you about something. Would it be convenient for us to find a place to sit?"

Wen Zhaoye glanced at him. "Let's talk about it here."

Old Wang looked around, then pulled the man to a corner. "Boss Bao said he was wrong before, and he's willing to pay two million to settle this privately. The condition is that you drop the case."

Wen Zhaoye remained silent.

Old Wang thought he was interested, so he quickly raised the price: "Two million, think about it, that's no small sum. You're a young man, just starting out, having money makes things easier. Boss Bao said that in the future, if you're going to be in the jade industry in Jiangcheng, he can help you a lot..."

Wen Zhaoye took a check out of his pocket and tore it up in front of Lao Wang.

"He sold my grandmother a fake bracelet for 280,000 yuan. How should this be accounted for?"

Old Wang was stunned.

"Go back and tell him I won't settle this privately. He sold more than just this one counterfeit item, and my grandmother wasn't the only victim. The case should be judged as it should be."

After saying that, he turned and left.

Old Wang called out several times from behind, but he didn't turn his head.

In the afternoon, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

Wen Zhaoye answered the call, and it was Bao Dequan's voice on the other end.

"Wen Zhaoye, you're something else. You don't want two million? What are you planning to do? You're just a poor laborer who got lucky and thinks you've turned your life around?"

Wen Zhaoye remained silent.

"Let me tell you, the jade industry in Jiangcheng isn't as simple as you think. Even if I get in, there are people outside. I'll eat my hat if your lousy shop manages to stay afloat."

Wen Zhaoye hung up the phone.

He sat in his rented room, looking at the photo of the land deed for Yu Mantang on his phone.

This is what he found at the housing management office yesterday—Bao Dequan's shop is rented, the landlord is from out of town, and the lease has three years remaining.

He considered it in his mind for a moment.

To open a store, you need to have goods and people.

Sun Bo'an has already agreed to help him look after the goods, and Ma Guoliang has also said that he will be the first to come as soon as the store opens.

The biggest problem is money.

Yu Tinglan's card was still lying in the inside pocket of his coat.

Two hundred thousand, the password was on the back, but he didn't use it.

But opening a store requires money, purchasing goods requires money, and decorating requires money.

He took out the bank card and looked at it on the table for a long time.

Then he took it back.

It's not the right time yet.

In the evening, he returned to his rented room and began sorting through his grandmother's old belongings.

He hadn't looked through these things much before his grandmother was hospitalized.

The old man's wardrobe contained a few faded coats, a bright red scarf, and two pairs of cloth shoes with multi-layered soles.

He folded the clothes neatly, preparing to put them in a bag and take them to the hospital.

When I reached my hand to the very back of the wardrobe, I touched something furry.

He pulled it out and saw that it was a cloth bag.

It was gray, covered with a layer of dust.

Wen Zhaoye opened the cloth bag, inside were several old envelopes.

The envelopes were yellowed and the edges were curled up.

He randomly picked out a letter with a few words written on it—"To Teruno." It was his grandmother's handwriting.

Wen Zhaoye paused for a moment. He opened the envelope, inside was a neatly folded letter. The paper was brittle, as if it would crumble at the slightest touch.

The letter read:

"Teruno:

If you can see this letter, it means I am no longer here.

There are some things I've kept to myself my whole life, things I've never dared to tell you.

But I'm afraid if I don't tell you now, no one will ever tell you.

Your dad doesn't abandon you; he just can't come back.

The night he left when you were seven, I asked him if he still wanted this son.

He didn't answer me. But before he left, he stood at the door for a long time, and one last time he looked back at the room where you were sleeping.

Later I received a letter, unsigned and without an address, but I recognized his handwriting.

The letter contained only one sentence: "Mom, I'll come back once I've sorted things out."

I waited and waited. Seventeen years passed, but he never came back.

You're all grown up now, and there are some things you should know.

Your father's surname wasn't changed for no reason.

Someone contacted him, but he didn't want to implicate you.

Go find him when you're ready.

Go to Kunlun Mountain and find an ancient pine tree with the character "闻" (wen) carved on it.

I've seen that tree once.

Many years ago, in a photograph.

Wen Zhaoye's hand trembled slightly after reading the letter.

He folded the letter, put it in the inner pocket of his wallet, and placed it together with the family photo.

My wallet is bulging.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the myriad lights outside.

Something was churning inside me.

It wasn't sadness, it wasn't anger, it was something indescribable.

He hadn't cried in seventeen years, but at this moment, his eyes welled up with tears.

late at night.

Wen Zhaoye stood at the window of his rented room, gazing at the night view of Jiangcheng.

Hanging on the wall behind me is a stone-cutting knife that my grandmother used when she was young.

The blade was rusted, and the wood on the handle was cracked.

He remembered that when he was a child, his grandmother used this knife to cut a small piece from a stone in the neighbor's yard.

Back then, Grandma's hands were still very steady. With one cut, the stone split in two, revealing the translucent jade inside.

Later, as Grandma got older, her hands started to shake, so she didn't cut as much anymore.

The knife had been hanging on the wall for over a decade. Wen Zhaoye reached out and took it down.

The blade is heavy, heavier than it looks.

He weighed the knife in his hand, feeling the cool temperature emanating from the wood of the hilt.

He stared at the rusty blade for a long time before hanging it back on the wall.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

Qin Fei sent a message: "I've dug deeper into Bao Hu's call records. He contacted Qian Bohong's driver five times in the past week, all after 10 p.m.

Wen Zhaoye glanced at it but didn't reply.

He reached into his pocket and touched the corner of the letter.

Kunlun Mountain.

An ancient pine tree with the character "闻" (wen) carved on it.

He stood by the window, looking at the dark sky outside, and something began to churn in his heart.

Footsteps could be heard downstairs.

Wen Zhaoye listened carefully—the footsteps were very light, unlike the sound of a normal person walking.

He walked to the door and looked out through the peephole.

The corridor was empty; nothing was there.

But he knew that someone was watching him.

Wen Zhaoye locked the door from the inside, returned to the window, and looked out at the night scene again.

The stone-cutting knife hanging on the wall seemed to reflect a faint light in his eyes.