Chapter Two: Exposing the Forgery

He did not know how much time had passed—it seemed as if ages had slipped by, yet perhaps only a moment. At last, Qin Feng awoke and opened his eyes.

He was still at home, the room empty and silent. For reasons unknown, he felt no pain, no weakness; quite the opposite, his body was suffused with warmth and vigor, as if he could wrestle an ox to the ground.

He touched the back of his head and found that the wound had already healed and scabbed over.

The inherited memories began to surface in his mind.

“It’s real—not a dream!” he murmured to himself, needing several minutes to compose his thoughts.

This legacy was vast in scope: artifact appraisal, jade gambling, all manner of expertise, and even bestowed upon him a peculiar transformation of his eyes—he could see through objects.

Before inheriting this power, he had been resigned to exchanging his life for another, determined to drag those treacherous lovers down with him, even at the cost of death.

But now, with this gift, he saw a broad future ahead. Appraising treasures, gambling on jade—both were lucrative trades. With this legacy, he could strive to earn enough to cure his mother, and live a better life.

To sacrifice himself for those wretched souls was no longer worth it.

“Li Pengcheng, Shen Fei—just wait. I’ll make sure you pay the price!” A cold gleam flashed in Qin Feng’s eyes.

He would not let those two off, but neither would he risk his life in reckless vengeance. He would climb, step by step, to the top, and make them pay dearly.

“The night gave me black eyes, yet I use them to seek the light…”

As Qin Feng mused, a phone call interrupted him.

“Qin Feng, are you coming to work or not? There are five minutes left before your shift—do you still want this job?”

“If not, then pack your things and get lost!”

“You have three minutes. If you’re not here, don’t bother coming at all!”

A piercing voice sounded from the other end—it was Huang Dachuan, the owner of Dachuan Antique Shop where Qin Feng worked. He was notoriously harsh, requiring every employee to arrive at least ten minutes early and to work late without overtime pay. Behind his back, everyone called him “Skinflint Huang.”

Qin Feng was seething. He had been thinking of quitting anyway; with the legacy, the world was vast—anywhere was open to him.

Before he could reply, Huang Dachuan hung up.

So be it. He would go to Antique Street himself, resign, and perhaps try out his new abilities.

Qin Feng sprinted along the road, his body brimming with energy—he felt he could run across several streets without tiring.

In less than three minutes, he arrived at Antique Street and entered Dachuan Antique Shop.

Inside, a middle-aged man with shifty eyes and a large belly sat surveying the surroundings, his gaze sharp and mean.

“Qin Feng, you—”

Huang Dachuan saw Qin Feng and a flicker of surprise flashed through his eyes before he quickly concealed it.

“Look at you, Qin Feng. Not a shred of ambition. Others come ten or even thirty minutes early, but you?”

“How will you ever make money like this? You don’t want the job? If not, then leave sooner rather than later!”

He launched into a tirade, berating him.

“Boss Huang, I’m here to resign.”

“Settle my wages for these days, and I’ll leave at once.”

Qin Feng had no patience for him. Forced overtime, no pay—he’d had enough of this modern-day Scrooge.

“Wages? You still want wages?”

“You’re quitting suddenly, what about the losses to my business?”

“Either leave now or stay and work properly!”

At the mention of money, Huang Dachuan’s face hardened, revealing the miser within, unwilling to part with a single cent.

Suspicion flickered in his eyes—perhaps Qin Feng had found a better job? He was unusually assertive today.

Qin Feng was about to speak again, but Huang Dachuan ignored him and, with a smile plastered on his fleshy face, strode briskly toward the entrance.

Turning, Qin Feng saw a woman entering, dressed in a smart office suit. Her figure was graceful and alluring, her features exquisite, and her eyes icy and imposing—a true image of the frosty executive.

“Miss Lin, you’re here. I’ll have someone fetch the Song Dynasty official kiln piece you ordered.”

Huang Dachuan’s face was full of ingratiation.

He knew well that this woman was Lin Wanting, eldest daughter of the Lin family in Jianghai, only twenty-six and already president of the Lin Group—a true heavyweight he dared not offend.

He quickly instructed someone to retrieve the Song Dynasty official kiln piece.

Lin Wanting nodded coolly and glanced at the elderly man behind her. “Mr. Chen, I’ll need your expertise in a moment.”

Chen Songbai replied, “Miss Lin, you’re too courteous. It’s my pleasure.”

Lin Wanting said no more, though worry flickered in her eyes.

Her situation at the company was uneasy; several relatives sought to overthrow her. If she had not always been meticulous and strict, she would have been ousted long ago.

Even so, those relatives caused no end of trouble.

She needed strong support now.

In two days, the old patriarch would celebrate his seventieth birthday. He had no hobbies, save a deep passion for Song Dynasty official kiln porcelain.

Both she and her relatives were trying their best to curry his favor.

She had cast a wide net, ordering Song Dynasty official kiln pieces from every major store, but no one knew that her true intention was to acquire one from a small shop like this.

It was, in essence, a case of building a road in the open while crossing a bridge in secret.

“Here is the Song Dynasty official kiln piece, Miss Lin.”

Soon, an employee brought a carefully packaged box and opened it, revealing a pale blue, tall porcelain vase.

“Miss Lin, this is imperial kiln porcelain from the Song Dynasty, worth twenty million. I acquired it through a special channel—there’s absolutely no problem,” said Huang Dachuan.

Lin Wanting ignored him and looked to Chen Songbai.

Chen Songbai said nothing more, put on gloves, and examined the porcelain closely.

After more than half an hour, he turned solemnly to Lin Wanting. “Miss Lin, it’s genuine—a Song Dynasty imperial kiln piece.”

Lin Wanting finally relaxed.

Huang Dachuan patted his chest. “Miss Lin, our shop has been open for decades. We never cheat anyone!”

Qin Feng, however, was stunned. According to the inherited memories in his mind, he could tell at a glance that this was no Song Dynasty official kiln piece—it was a Qing Dynasty imitation!

Its true value was at most five hundred thousand.

“Miss Lin, this is not a Song Dynasty official kiln piece. It’s a Qing Dynasty imitation!” Qin Feng spoke up.

On one hand, his nature was kind—he could not bear to see someone cheated. On the other, he wished to expose Huang Dachuan.

Reputation was everything for an antique shop.

Once exposed, Huang Dachuan’s shop would surely decline from now on.