Chapter 3: A Shocking Restoration: One Glance Reveals the Truth

When Lin Qian pushed open the carved wooden door of the Gu family’s study, the air was still thick with the lingering atmosphere of last night’s farce. It smelled not just of tea, but of damp old wood soaked in stagnant moisture, laced with a hidden, suffocating tension.

Gu Chengze was sitting on the leather sofa outside the floor-to-ceiling window, toying with a cold, heavy pocket watch in his hand without bothering to stand up. The brass lid clicked softly against his knuckles, a sound that cut sharply through the heavy silence of the room.

He glanced up at Lin Qian, still standing by the door in her shabby suit, a curl of contempt pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he were looking at a reckless trespasser. His gaze was as freezing as midwinter lake water, cold enough to chill a person straight to the bone.

On the coffee table, the Blue and White Plum Vase, which had been written off as a fake, sat quietly. A glaring crack split across its body, standing out cruelly in the dim light like an unhealed scar pronouncing its death sentence. The surrounding air seemed to freeze, stopping even the dust motes mid-dance.

Gu Chengze stood up, his leather shoes making a dull, muffled thud against the thick Persian rug. He walked right up to Lin Qian, towering over her as he looked down his nose. Tapping a slender finger against the side of the vase, he said, "Since you claim you're so talented, Miss Lin, go ahead and prove it.

If you fail to fix it in one go, or even chip off a single flake of glaze, the Lin family's bill for damages won't be short a single zero. I want you to write a personal guarantee right now, staking every single asset the Lin family owns on the line."

Lin Qian didn’t say a word, just looked back at him calmly. Her breathing remained steady and shallow, her gaze sliding past his expensive suit jacket to land squarely on the vase. The very second her fingertips brushed against the cold porcelain, a flood of translucent light and shadow rushed into her vision.

Data streams flowed like golden code across her field of view, crisp and clear: Yuan dynasty blue and white, underglaze painted, dense clay body, three internal micro-cracks present. Estimated market value range: eight thousand to twelve thousand RMB. A jolt went through her heart, and her fingertips twitched before she forcefully stamped the shock down.

So this wasn't a fake at all, but a genuine treasure whose true value had been deliberately covered up. Those so-called "cracks" were nothing more than artificial flaws manufactured by someone in the past to force down its valuation.

Su Wan appeared in the side parlor at some point, pressing a hand to her mouth in a fragile, anxious display as her soft, wispy voice drifted over. "Mr. Gu, isn't this a bit too harsh on Qian'er? She just wants to clear her name, she has no malicious intent to damage the antique. If she really ruins it, it's going to be impossible to explain to Uncle Lin."

Her words sounded considerate on the surface, but they were dripping with hidden venom, carefully designed to paint Lin Qian as reckless and irresponsible to anyone watching, laying the groundwork for a future smear campaign.

Lin Qian sharply caught the flash of cold malice buried deep in Su Wan's eyes—the look of a hunter patiently watching prey stumble into a trap. She didn't snap back; instead, she simply stepped aside to dodge Su Wan's deceptively innocent yet razor-sharp gaze, walking straight toward the workbench.

Precision repair tools were laid out there, the metal instruments glinting coldly under the lights while a faint scent of turpentine drifted through the air. Lin Qian took a deep breath, sinking her consciousness entirely into the world built by the system.

The micro-cracks in her vision were magnified, highlighted by pale red warning lines. She needed to skirt around these fragile points, using a specialized adhesive for reinforcement before filling in the gaps left by the artificial hammering.

"Get started," Gu Chengze said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his tone laced with the cruel glee of a spectator. "I want to see if a backseat restorer like you can actually pull off this impossible surgery in broad daylight."

Lin Qian picked up her tweezers, her hand as steady as a rock. With the system's assistance, she expertly bypassed the deepest primary crack, cutting in from the side as she used an ultra-fine brush dipped in nano-infused repair compound to carefully bridge the gaps in the vase's body. Her movements flowed like water without a single shred of hesitation, every angle calculated down to the millimeter.

stray strands of hair clinging to her forehead brushed lightly against the bridge of her nose as she leaned in, beads of sweat tracking down her cheek to bloom into dark patches on her pristine white cuffs. This mechanical level of precision made Gu Chengze raise an eyebrow; he’d been expecting a flustered mess, not someone this ice-cold and composed.

Master Zhao had been drawn over by the sound of hurried footsteps outside. As an authority in the industry, he had held a deep prejudice against Lin Qian as an up-and-coming amateur, assuming she was just a fraud riding on family coattails. Rushing through the door now, his hurried stride was so frantic he practically clipped the coat rack by the entrance.

He caught sight of Lin Qian’s concentrated profile and the Blue and White Plum Vase being brought back to life before his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks right by the door. Narrowing his eyes, he studied her technique for handling the shards. His initial expression of contempt slowly dissolved, replaced by professional gravity as he whipped out a small notebook and frantically began jotting down key operational details, his pen scratching furiously against the paper.

As the final shard slotted into place with absolute perfection, Lin Qian gently blew away the excess material. A miracle unfolded right then and there: the vase's surface, previously dull and marred with clumsy old repairs, seemed to be veiled in a warm mist.

Luster slowly bloomed from the inside out, radiating a warm, jade-like texture as if time had reversed itself to reclaim its glory from a century ago. The system prompt immediately popped up: Repair complete, internal micro-cracks reinforced, genuine artifact traits manifested. Current valuation: 12 million RMB.

The knuckles holding Gu Chengze's phone turned stark white. Known far and wide for his sharp tongue, he stood frozen in place for a solid half-second before dragging his arrogant mask back into place, though a flicker of genuine shock flashed deep in his eyes. He stepped forward, lightly tapping the side of the vase with his fingernail. The crisp, clear ring that echoed through the study was completely free of any dull distortion.

"What... what kind of trick did you pull?" he asked in a low voice. "You valued the base of this vase at three thousand earlier—how on earth did the value multiply thousands of times over?"

Lin Qian put down her tools, lifting her head with a calm, unshakeable gaze. "Since Teacher Zhao is here, why don't you have him appraise it? This is just standard restoration based on artifact provenance tracking—we simply stripped away the artificial aging and reinforced the structural integrity. It was always worth this much; your prejudices were just blinding you to it."

Before her voice had even faded, hurried footsteps thundered down the stairs. Lin's Father stormed in looking murderous, his shirt collar rumpled as if he'd sprinted the entire way. Jabbing a finger at the restored vase, his voice cracked with agitation, "That's my family's heirloom! Since it's fixed, it belongs to the Lin family, and nobody else is touching it!

Pack it up and ship it back to the Lin estate exactly as it is, and don't you dare lose a single rivet!"

Lin Qian didn't panic in the slightest. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tablet, bringing up the system-generated "Certificate of Original Provenance." It was a detailed dossier clearly documenting the vase's early transit records through the Suhe Auction House, along with the receipt showing the Lin family buying it for next to nothing from a ruined merchant years ago.

The price on that receipt was a mere one ten-thousandth of what it was worth right now.

Master Zhao took the tablet, sliding on his reading glasses to inspect it line by line. His expression darkened, his brow furrowing deep. "This chain of documentation is airtight. According to these records, when Lin's Father bought this item back then, it was indeed cataloged as 'provincial kiln scrap' and acquired at a bargain-basement price.

Now that it's been restored to its true authentic state, if this original provenance trail goes public, the Lin family's reputation in the antiquities market is going to be torched to ashes. This isn't just welshing on a debt anymore—this is fraud and forgery."

Lin's Father's face instantly turned ashen, his lips trembling without a single word coming out. He whipped his head around toward Su Wan, hoping she’d throw him a lifeline. But Su Wan was just staring at the vase with a gloomy, venomous glare full of blistering envy and hatred, refusing to lift a finger.

She simply took a half-step back, shifting her gaze to Gu Chengze as if waiting for him to make the final call.

Gu Chengze stepped in with a cold voice, pulling out his phone to flash an outgoing email screen. The recipient on that email was none other than Master Zhao and several other industry heavyweights. The text on the screen was plain as day: "Request for review regarding Lin Qian's appraisal report and restoration process." He looked over at Lin Qian, the dangerous glint in his eyes softening just a fraction into a complex, analytical assessment.

"Lin Qian," Gu Chengze said, his voice dropping into a tone of unquestionable authority, "game's over. Hand over every single operational log and provenance record you just used—one copy for me, one for Master Zhao. As for the Lin family and whatever whining they want to do, that's their problem."

Lin Qian gave a slight nod, a faint, ghost-like smile touching the corner of her lips. She knew that the winner of this round wasn't just any single person, but the absolute truth itself.

The murmurs in the room erupted into an absolute uproar, the previous atmosphere of condemnation completely flipping as awe and shock washed over every face. Lin's Father tried to salvage some shred of his dignity, his trembling hands lunging out to grab the multi-million-dollar vase in a desperate attempt to snatch it away by force.

Lin Qian didn't try to stop him; she just watched with cold detachment as a blazing red warning flashed across her system interface like a silent blade, pointing straight at the fake replica waiting to be swapped in.

"Let go." Gu Chengze's voice wasn't loud, but it cracked like thunder. Stepping forward, his slender fingers clamped firmly around Lin's Father's wrist with a pressure applied precisely to a cluster of pain receptors. Lin's Father let out a yelp of agony, his fingers forced open. Standing in the shadows, Su Wan gently rubbed her cuff, her eyes so dark and toxic they looked like they could drip blood.

Slowly raising her head, her gaze locked onto Lin Qian like a pit viper as a twisted sneer curled her lips. "This isn't over yet, little girl. You think winning this vase means you're safe? The Lin family's roots run a hell of a lot deeper than you think."

Ignoring Su Wan's provocation entirely, Gu Chengze tucked the plum vase safely into a case of shock-absorbent foam, turning back to Lin Qian with the last trace of skepticism in his eyes now hardened into icy resolve. He pressed the elevator button, and the metal doors slowly slid shut, cutting off the chaotic room outside.

And in the very last split-second before the gap sealed shut, Lin Qian caught sight of Su Wan pulling an old bronze coin from her pocket, carved with a strange, eerie symbol that glinted with a bone-chilling light in the dimness. As the elevator plunged downward and a wave of weightlessness hit her, Lin Qian clenched her fists, knowing deep down that the real storm was only just beginning.