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

Bao Hu was released from the detention center three days later.

Wen Zhaoye had just returned from the hospital that afternoon, carrying clothes for his grandmother to change.

He had walked down the alley below his rented apartment for three years, and he could count every pothole there with his eyes closed.

Today is different.

As soon as he turned into the alley, he saw three people blocking the stairwell.

Bao Hu stood in the middle, wearing a drab gray windbreaker. The fake gold chain around his neck was gone, but his face looked even more fierce than before.

The one on the left has a blue dragon tattooed on his arm, which wraps around his wrist from his sleeve.

The one on the right isn't very old, his hands are in his pockets, and the pocket openings are bulging.

Wen Zhaoye glanced at the pocket—the outline of a switchblade was quite obvious.

"Wen Zhaoye." Bao Hu saw him, took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, and waved it. "You're finally back."

Wen Zhaoye didn't stop, and continued walking forward with the bag in his hand.

Bao Hu stepped forward to block him, "Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you." Wen Zhaoye stopped. "An IOU, right? Two hundred thousand?"

Bao Hu was taken aback, not expecting him to be so direct.

"Good to know! Two hundred thousand! You have to pay it back today, or I'll smash up your shop!"

Wen Zhaoye glanced at him, then at the two people behind him.

Then he laughed.

Bao Hu's face darkened. "What are you laughing at?"

"You've got a good eye for picking people," Wen Zhaoye said, turning his gaze to the man with the blue dragon tattoo. "Brother, you injured someone in the north of the city last month, the case isn't closed yet, is it?"

The man with the blue dragon tattoo's expression changed.

Wen Zhaoye then looked at the other one, "And the guy with the knife tucked behind your waist, have you paid off the debts from the casino in the west of the city?"

The man with the switchblade instinctively reached for his pocket, then froze.

"How did you know?" The man with the blue dragon tattoo's voice changed.

Wen Zhaoye didn't answer him, but turned and shouted upstairs, "Uncle Zhang! Aunt Li! Come out and see, someone's trying to smash up the shop!"

That's quite a loud voice.

Several windows upstairs suddenly opened with a snap.

Grandpa Zhang poked his head out with a teacup in his hand, Aunt Li stood on the balcony without even taking off her apron, and even Old Wang, who sells fruit in the building across the street, came out with a knife—but it was a knife for cutting watermelons.

"Xiao Wen, what's wrong?" "Who's trying to vandalize your shop?"

Bao Hu grew impatient and took a step closer to Wen Zhaoye, "Stop playing tricks on me—"

"Don't move." Wen Zhaoye pointed behind him. "The tattooed guy on your right, about the fight last month, how about we call the police station now? I know you were in there for fifteen days and were just released."

The man with the blue dragon tattoo twitched the fleshy part of his face.

Without saying a word, he turned and left.

"Hey! You son of a bitch—" Bao Hu tried to call out to him, but the tattooed man had already turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

The man with the switchblade also started to back away.

"Don't go!" Bao Hu grabbed his arm.

"Let go." The man with the switchblade shook him off, his voice weak. "Brother Tiger, I can't help you with this."

"You believe him just because he says you owe loan sharks?" The man with the switchblade glanced at Wen Zhaoye, then at the knife in his pocket, and finally ran away.

Bao Hu was the only one left in the alley.

He clutched the crumpled IOU, sweat beading on his forehead.

From the upstairs window came Grandpa Zhang's voice: "Hello! 110? Someone's causing trouble here!"

Bao Hu shuddered and glanced back at the alley entrance.

The faint sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

He gritted his teeth, threw the IOU on the ground, and said, "You just wait—" before disappearing into the alley on the other side.

Wen Zhaoye walked over, bent down, and picked up the IOU.

The paper read, "Borrowed 200,000 yuan from Bao Hu, borrower Zhou Guilan." The signature was copied, and it was crooked, just like the one from the hospital.

He rubbed the paper a couple of times, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash can next to him.

Old Zhang from upstairs called out, "Xiao Wen, that kid ran away?"

"They ran away, thank you, Grandpa Zhang."

"It's okay! Next time someone comes, just shout it out!"

Wen Zhaoye waved his hand upstairs, picked up the bag of clothes, and went upstairs.

Once inside, he put his clothes on the bed, took out his phone, and scrolled through his contacts.

Qin Fei's profile picture is still up.

He clicked on the message and typed: "Bao Hu just brought some men to ambush me, but I scared them away. Could you please check who he's been frequently talking to lately?" After sending the message, he thought for a moment and added: "Not calling the police, just so you're aware of the situation."

Less than two minutes later, my phone vibrated.

"Okay. Are you alright?"

"It's nothing, just two thugs. They were scared away by a few words I said."

"You scared them away with your words?" Wen Zhaoye laughed and typed, "Yes, my words are more effective than my fists."

There was a pause on the other end, then another message came: "Okay, I'll check Bao Hu's call records and send you a message tomorrow."

Thanks.

"You're welcome. It's your pleasure."

Wen Zhaoye looked at the words "It's what you should do" on the screen and smiled.

He put his phone back in his pocket, picked up his clothes bag, and glanced into the room.

The jasmine plant in the corner has some wilted leaves.

He walked over and poured some water on it.

"Grandma told me to water the plants, so I did."

He closed the window, locked the door, and went downstairs.

It was getting dark.

The sirens at the alley entrance had long since stopped, and the streetlights had just come on, casting a dim, yellowish glow.

Wen Zhaoye stood under the streetlight and glanced back at the old building.

He knew this wasn't over. A man like Bao Hu, once he lost the first time, would try again.

He can scare people away today, but he can call even more people tomorrow.

But Zhao Ye remained calm.

He took his phone out of his pocket, glanced at Qin Fei's reply, and then at his bank balance.

The 300,000 yuan surgery deposit was transferred, but Yu Tinglan's card was still lying in the inner pocket of his coat.

Two hundred thousand in reserve funds, the password is affixed to the back.

He didn't intend to use it.

But it feels good to know that someone is willing to give.

He put his phone away, picked up his clothes bag, and headed to the hospital.

The streetlights cast a long shadow of him as he walked alone in the alley, his footsteps pattering softly.

My phone vibrated again.

Qin Fei sent another message: "I checked. Bao Hu has contacted Qian Bohong's driver three times in the past few days."

Wen Zhaoye stopped in his tracks.

He stared at the line of text on the screen, a thought flashing through his mind.

Qian Bohong.

The executive director of the provincial antique association. He was Bao Dequan's superior.

Wen Zhaoye turned off his phone screen and continued walking forward.

The pace didn't slow down; in fact, it quickened a bit.