Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

Central, Customs and Excise Department Building.

The afternoon sun slanted across the heavy, solid wood edge of Thomas's desk. Thomas sat upright in the leather swivel chair that symbolized power, slowly and methodically flipping through a document on "Import and Export Trade Regulations."

In his view, although the Nakajima Group had been stripped bare, and although he had left an impression of incompetence in front of Governor Youde, as long as the direct evidence that could send him to prison turned to ashes, and as long as he could continue to serve as the Commissioner of Customs, he would still be the most solid cornerstone of the British Empire in the Far East.

"Ring ring—"

A sudden, urgent phone call broke the silence in the room.

That was Thomas's private line; fewer than five people in all of Hong Kong knew this number. Thomas frowned slightly, glanced at the caller ID, and a glint of shrewdness flashed in his eyes.

But he didn't answer immediately. Instead, he got up, walked to the door, locked it with a click, and carefully checked through the blinds to make sure there were no eyes or ears in the corridor before returning to his seat and pressing the answer button.

"Sang, didn't I tell you not to call me at this time?" Thomas's voice was deep and carried an unquestionable authority.

On the other end of the phone, Sang's voice sounded excited: "Sir, I have fantastic news! There's news about a second piece of that 'twin masterpiece' Jian ware from the Song Dynasty official kiln that you've been asking me to keep an eye on!"

"What?" Thomas straightened abruptly, his gaze sharp. A flame of ambition flickered in his blue eyes. "Is the information accurate? Who has the item now?"

When Thomas mentioned this Jian ware teacup, his breathing even became heavy, like that of a bellows. To him, it was not just an antique, but a "pledge of allegiance" for whether he could gain a foothold in London's high society for the rest of his life.

That was a legend left behind by the Jian kiln during the Song Dynasty at its peak. Not only was its color a rare iridescent temmoku, but it was also a pair. One of them now lies quietly in the private collection of a powerful old nobleman in London—the Duke of Hamilton, while the other's whereabouts are unknown. This old nobleman was obsessed with porcelain, even to the point of madness. For many years, he had regretted not being able to collect this pair of "peerless beauties," and even publicly stated that whoever could bring him the other one would be the most honored friend of the Hamilton family.

Thomas has spent most of his time and energy searching for this teacup while running the Zhongdao Group in Hong Kong. He knows all too well that in the power labyrinth of the British Empire, no amount of money can always compare to the favor of a top-tier noble.

"The information is absolutely reliable," Sang said quickly on the other end of the phone. "The seller is called 'King Kong,' a master thief who has risen to fame in the underworld in the last two years. It's said that he just smuggled the item from a luxury mansion on Hong Kong Island a couple of days ago. Although this guy doesn't know what kind of antique it is, he knows it must be valuable and wants to find a way to cash in. Although our Zhongdao Group has suffered some setbacks, we still have a solid foundation. He inquired around the black market and finally came to us."

"How much did he ask for?" Thomas calmed himself down and sat back down in his chair.

"Ten million Hong Kong dollars," Sang announced a figure.

Thomas's eye twitched, and he couldn't help but curse inwardly, "Don't eat the sour radish."

Ten million—if this were during the Nakajima Group's heyday, he would have paid it without batting an eye. But now, with both him and the Nakajima Group suffering heavy losses, ten million is no small sum. It's foreseeable that this money will have to come from his own pocket.

But after hesitating for less than three seconds, Thomas gritted his teeth and made his decision: "Say yes! The Duke of Hamilton's friendship is worth more than ten million, even two hundred million!"

But a ruthless glint flashed in Thomas's eyes, and he added coldly into the microphone, "However, it's easy to take the Nakajima Group's money out, but bringing it back... isn't impossible. After the transaction is completed, if something unexpected happens at that dock, causing a 'master thief' to disappear without a trace, you should understand what I mean, right?"

Sang's voice turned cold: "Understood, sir. I'll arrange the transaction location right away."

After hanging up the phone, Thomas felt an unprecedented sense of relief. He felt this was probably God's compensation for him—after losing most of his smuggling network, He had been given the opportunity to advance his career that he had always dreamed of.

He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the bustling Victoria Harbour, and seemed to already see himself sitting in his manor on the banks of the Thames in London, clinking glasses with the Duke.

……

Just as Thomas was indulging in his dream of climbing the social ladder, a convoy of five Rolls-Royces, escorted by several black G-Class cars, smoothly pulled up in front of the Hong Kong Police Headquarters.

The car door opened, and Lu Chen, dressed in a dark suit, stepped out with a grim expression. Following closely behind was the "Overbearing Flower," who carried a thick file and had a sharp, piercing gaze.

Lu Chen's arrival immediately alarmed the police force's top brass.

Stoddard, who was originally dealing with official documents, rushed downstairs to greet the receptionist after receiving the message.

"Mr. Lu, what a rare guest! What wind blew you, the God of Wealth, to headquarters?" Stoddard, the foreigner, had a warm smile on his face and walked forward quickly with outstretched hands.

Although Hong Kong is still dominated by foreigners, Lu Chen is no ordinary Chinese. In this era where power and money are highly sophisticated, even the Commissioner of Police, Han Yili, would have to treat a top tycoon like Lu Chen, who controls the media and sponsors the police force with great respect.

Lu Chen shook hands with him indifferently, his tone neither warm nor cold: "Mr. Stoddard, I'm not here today to have tea with you, I'm here to report a case."

"Report a crime?" Stoddard was taken aback, his expression instantly turning serious. "Who's so bold as to mess with you, Mr. Lu? Is it some clueless gang causing trouble? Don't worry, as long as this is Hong Kong, I'll give you an explanation."

"That's not a matter for the club." Led by Stoddard, Lu Chen strolled into the deputy director's VIP reception room.

He leaned back on the soft leather sofa, and Tian Yangsheng casually placed a printed list on the table.

"Last night, around midnight, my manor in Youyicun was broken into." Lu Chen casually took the cigarette offered by Ba Wanghua. With the crisp metallic click of the lighter, a wisp of smoke slowly diffused in the office. "Some cash and jewelry were stolen, but those don't matter to me; they're gone, they're gone. The problem is, the thief also stole a family heirloom that a certain leader in Beijing personally gave me."

Stoddard had originally intended to curry favor, but upon hearing that it involved mainland China, his heart sank to the bottom. He cursed himself for meddling and getting involved in this diplomatic-level trouble. But now that the matter was settled, he dared not refuse. He could only grit his teeth and accept the report form, his gaze sweeping over the dizzying string of zeros before settling on the description in the last column.

"A top-grade celadon tea bowl from the Song Dynasty official kiln..." Stoddard gasped. Although he knew nothing about antiques, he knew that anything associated with "official kiln" was a priceless national treasure. "Mr. Lu, are you sure it's this?"

"Of course I'm sure." Lu Chen's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone carrying a chilling undertone. "This teacup is not only worth hundreds of millions, but it also represents the face of my Lu family and the mainland. Mr. Stoddard, the reason I've come here in person today is to tell the police that I'm very interested in this thief."

"Understood, understood!" Stoddard slapped his thigh and shouted to his assistant, "Immediately issue a direct order to the Major Crimes Unit and the Intelligence Bureau! Mobilize all informants in Hong Kong. Anyone who sees this Song Dynasty teacup on the black market must immediately cover it up and report to me immediately!"

He turned to Lu Chen and assured him, "Mr. Lu, don't worry. This top-quality stuff can't be sold in Hong Kong. As long as that thief dares to show his face, I'll personally bring him to you!"

Looking at Stoddard's righteous and awe-inspiring appearance, Lu Chen's lips curled into a playful smile.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Stoddard. I have always trusted the Hong Kong Island Police."

Lu Chen stood up, walked out of the police headquarters, and got back into his car, his voice becoming extremely cold.

"Ah Sheng."

"Boss."

"Tell King Kong to make the act more convincing. Tonight's deal is to let Thomas see what he's been dreaming of with his own eyes, and then let him take it away with his own hands." Lu Chen rubbed his temples, a cruel smile flashing in his eyes.

"I want to see him, at this most glorious moment, utterly crushed by the very 'Onsa Rules' he himself adhered to."

In the autumn of 1983, Boss Lu not only wanted to reclaim the national treasures in the warehouse, but also wanted to use a priceless teacup to lure out the most greedy old fish on the entire island.

The most skillful way to be a hunter is never to chase, but to dig a pit, wait for the fox to jump in, and then smile gratefully.