135 Something Has Happened (Monthly votes requested!)

After stepping out of Yubaotang, Wang Qingsheng couldn’t help but ask, "Binzi, what did you think of that shop?"

Han Bin pondered for a moment before replying, "The shop is fine, but the owner is a bit off."

"How so?"

"Simply put, there is something wrong with that store. Don't take it over."

"What could be wrong with it?"

Han Bin frowned slightly. "I can't quite put my finger on it. It’s just an intuition."

"You brat, are you trying to teach me?" Wang Qingsheng said, feeling a mix of amusement and frustration.

"The antique trade is treacherous and full of unspoken rules. If you get swindled, you call it 'getting your eye poked.' What else can I say?" Han Bin said helplessly.

"Do you really think this shop is a bad deal?" Wang Qingsheng confirmed.

"Absolutely."

"What exactly about Boss Zhou made you feel uneasy?" Wang Qingsheng pressed.

"When I mentioned that I was a police officer, Boss Zhou displayed a look of fear and dread. That shows he has a guilty conscience. He’s definitely hiding something," Han Bin explained.

"How did I not notice that?" Wang Qingsheng looked puzzled. Having spent so much time in the antique business, he considered himself quite observant.

"If it were that easy to spot, what would you need us police for?" Han Bin said seriously.

"You’re really starting to get full of yourself, aren't you?" Wang Qingsheng scoffed.

"In that regard, I certainly can't compare to you," Han Bin laughed, patting Wang Qingsheng’s belly.

"Get off," Wang Qingsheng swatted his hand away. "You brat, never a serious moment."

"Uncle, I’m not joking with you. You absolutely must not take over that shop," Han Bin warned.

Wang Qingsheng felt somewhat dejected. He had finally found a store in a good location with a reasonable price, but his nephew insisted there was a problem, which left him quite troubled. He really wanted to lease the place. However, Han Bin was the person he trusted and was closest to, so his words carried significant weight.

"Uncle, good things are worth waiting for. It’s still early; let me accompany you to look around some more. We might stumble upon something even better," Han Bin suggested.

Wang Qingsheng sighed. "Let's go."

The street was becoming increasingly crowded, mostly with tourists from out of town. Most of these visitors were novices who came for the novelty, making them the easiest targets for being overcharged.

The two walked around the antique street, but the few vacant shops they found were either in remote locations or had rents that were far too high. In short, they didn't find anything suitable. Seeing Wang Qingsheng stop walking, Han Bin pointed forward. "Uncle, there are a few more shops ahead. Let’s go check them out."

"No, no. I’ve already looked at those shops before. There's nothing there." Wang Qingsheng waved his hand. Being a stout man, he was already tired after walking all morning. "Forget it, it’s almost noon. Let’s find somewhere to eat."

"You’re familiar with this area. You lead the way, and I’ll just focus on eating," Han Bin said with a smile.

"That's a good point. If there’s one thing your uncle is a master at, it’s antiques, and the second is food. Among all my friends, no one can compare to me when it comes to loving, understanding, and knowing how to eat."

"In that case, you might as well open a restaurant instead of messing with an antique shop."

"Tsk, tsk." Wang Qingsheng clicked his tongue. "You think opening a restaurant is easy? Ninety percent of restaurants are just grinding for meager wages. The ones that can truly succeed and make big money are few and far between."

"If my mom were here, she’d definitely lecture you for thinking about big profits before you've even started," Han Bin laughed.

"Go on, stop spouting nonsense. Your mom isn't here, so keep it down," Wang Qingsheng sighed. These days, nothing was easy to do.

Behind the antique street was a mountain, and at its foot sat a farmhouse-style restaurant. The two strolled along until they reached the place, called "Mountain Red." The courtyard was spacious, and sitting there, one could see the towering mountains in the distance, which felt quite idyllic. The air was fresh, and it was cool sitting under the shade of the trees to eat.

The menu at Mountain Red was also quite distinctive: wild mushrooms stewed with pheasant, a shrimp and scallop special, "Big Harvest" vegetable platter, stir-fried wild boar, and various wild seasonal greens.

The two ordered four dishes and a soup. Wang Qingsheng also ordered a bottle of white liquor and urged Han Bin to have a few drinks with him, but Han Bin declined. Han Bin didn't touch alcohol on weekdays and generally avoided it during the day on weekends, preferring to have a few drinks only when he was off-duty in the evening.

"Fine, you brat, you don't have the stomach for the good stuff," Wang Qingsheng said, taking a sip of his drink and a bite of the wild mushrooms, his face full of satisfaction.

Han Bin smiled and tasted the dishes; they were delicious and very authentic. Although he wasn't drinking, he ordered a soda and used it to toast his uncle a few times.

After a few drinks, Wang Qingsheng opened up. "Binzi, we spent the whole morning looking and didn't find a suitable shop. Should we reconsider Yubaotang?"

"Uncle, you’d better give up on that idea. That Boss Zhou has definitely done something illegal. Otherwise, why would he show such fear and dread the moment he heard I was a policeman?" Han Bin insisted.

"It’s so frustrating," Wang Qingsheng said, picking up his glass and taking another sip.

"Uncle, if this Boss Zhou really did something illegal, what do you think he’s most likely involved in?" Han Bin asked.

"Binzi, you're being biased. Being afraid of the police only means he has a guilty conscience; it doesn't necessarily mean he's committed a crime," Wang Qingsheng argued.

"How so?" Han Bin asked.

"I remember, it must have been the year before last, a nouveau riche guy came to the antique street and bought a painting attributed to Tang Bohu from a shop. It cost him a full 300,000 yuan. Initially, he just liked it and wanted to collect it, but his friends egged him on, so he went to get it appraised." Wang Qingsheng chuckled to himself. "The appraisal was a disaster. The painting was a fake—a modern reproduction. It was crafted nicely enough to be worth maybe eight or ten thousand, but the guy was stunned. He lost both his money and his pride."

"What happened then?" Han Bin asked curiously.

"On the third day, the guy went to the police station to report the shop for fraud, hoping to get his 300,000 back. Guess what happened?" Wang Qingsheng asked.

"Stop keeping me in suspense, just tell me," Han Bin said, picking up the bottle to refill his uncle's glass.

"The police came and took a statement, but there wasn't enough evidence to even file a case." Wang Qingsheng drank a cup and continued, "The shop owner claimed he had acquired the painting and it wasn't a family heirloom, so he couldn't verify its authenticity himself. He argued there was no subjective intent to deceive. Plus, who would sell a real Tang Bohu for only 300,000? Only a fool would believe that."

Han Bin nodded. The antique industry was high-risk with high rewards; if you wanted to find a bargain, you had to be prepared to get swindled. You couldn't have it all your way.

"Ring, ring..." Just then, Han Bin’s phone rang. He pulled it out and saw the name "Zeng Ping" on the screen. "Hello, Captain Zeng?"

"Han Bin, there's a case..."

Before Zeng Ping could finish, the line cut off. Han Bin tried to call back but found his phone was unusable—the signal was extremely poor.

"What's going on?" Han Bin opened the Second Team's WeChat group, only to find there was no network connection and no messages were coming through. He borrowed Wang Qingsheng’s phone and found the signal was just as weak; every call he tried to make disconnected.

"Uncle, put the shop matter aside for now. Something must have happened. I need to get in touch with the police station."