C74 Lei's Brand

A middle-aged man clad in a traditional Tang suit with gold-rimmed glasses emerged from behind the folding screen. As his gaze fell upon the wooden box, I detected a mix of astonishment and something more elusive in his expression.

There was no question that the wooden box was valuable. Even as a layperson, I could discern that it was an antique, likely from the Ming or Qing Dynasty, and crafted from premium redwood with exquisite carving.

"What would you like to drink, young man? Orange juice, Coke, or coffee?" the proprietor asked with a courteous smile.

"Coffee, please." I'm not fond of bitter beverages, but I had never tried coffee and was curious to taste it.

The coffee arrived promptly. The owner, still smiling, inquired, "Young man, I presume your last name is Wu. May I have your full name?"

"I'm Zhao Changsheng," I replied.

"Mr. Zhao, could you share the story behind this wooden box?" Boss Wu began by probing into the item's history.

I didn't entirely fabricate my response, explaining it was a family heirloom passed down to me by my foster father on his deathbed. Boss Wu seemed to accept this without suspicion and nodded in acknowledgment.

After sipping the coffee, I felt a nagging unease and decided to cut to the chase, asking directly about the price. I was eager to complete the sale and make my way to the train station.

But Boss Wu was evasive. He glanced at the bag I was carrying and queried, "Mr. Zhao, what's in your bag? Do you have other items you're looking to pawn?"

"Nothing else, just some personal items and snacks. I need to catch a train shortly. Please, just tell me how much the wooden box is worth. My wallet was stolen, and I'm in urgent need of cash." Initially, I had hoped to negotiate a higher price, but time was of the essence, and I couldn't shake the feeling that Boss Wu had ulterior motives.

I had to be cautious; the blood jade shaped like an eyeball was still tucked away in my bag. My foster father had cautioned me to keep it hidden at all costs, as revealing it could lead to deadly consequences.

Yet, the more desperate I became, the more Boss Wu dawdled. He feigned concern and asked, "Your wallet was stolen? Where did this happen? Have you reported it to the police?"

"You... Weren't you here to do business? Why are you asking these questions? I need to leave, and I'm not interested in holding onto these things anymore." I quickly grabbed the wooden box and turned to head out the door.

But unexpectedly, as I stood up, I felt a wave of dizziness, and my vision began to blur.

Oh no, I think I've been...

Glancing at the coffee I had just sipped, a cold realization washed over me. I dashed out, but just as I reached the doorway, darkness engulfed my vision, and I collapsed to the floor, passing out.

When I came to, I was tied to a chair, my hands and feet bound by ropes and chains!

I surveyed the room in a panic. It was airtight, with nothing inside but a rusty iron door and windows sealed shut with wooden planks.

I yelled at the top of my lungs and struggled desperately, trying to free myself and escape. Just then, the iron door rattled loudly as someone unlocked it and stepped inside.

Blinding sunlight streamed in, making it hard for me to even keep my eyes open. Squinting, I recognized the figure at the door.

"Boss Wu, what are you trying to do? Are you planning to harm me for my possessions? I'll call the police!" I yelled.

"Hmph, call the police? It seems I'm the one who should be calling them. The items in your wooden box and backpack, they're stolen, aren't they? They're all stolen goods, right?" Boss Wu asked with a cold tone.

"Stolen goods? Those are my father's belongings, left to me before he passed away. How can you claim they're stolen?" I retorted angrily.

Boss Wu just smirked and pulled a photograph from his pocket, saying, "Still trying to deny it? Look at this photo. Is the wooden box the same as the one you're trying to pawn?"

I examined the wooden box in the photo closely; it was an exact match. And it was clear that the photo wasn't taken recently.

Confused, I asked, "What's the meaning of this photo?"

"This wooden box belongs to the owner of Lei's Brand. It was stolen three years ago, so he sent out photos to all our branches nationwide and other pawn shops, instructing every manager to be on the lookout. Do you understand now?" Boss Wu explained icily.

"I was taken aback—I hadn't expected the wooden box to actually belong to the big boss of the pawnshop.

Boss Wu let out a cold snort, abruptly removed his gold-rimmed glasses, and, gripping my hair fiercely, he said, "You've got some nerve, kid, stealing from Lei's Brand. Do you have any idea what our real line of business is?"

As I observed Boss Wu's sinister expression, a shiver ran down my spine. Memories began to surface of the rumors my foster father had once shared with me about Lei's Brand.