Chapter Fifty-Five: Concerning the Antique Case

Seeing the person who entered, Zhao Fan couldn't help but sneer, "You need to switch people just to ask about a fight? Is your precinct running out of staff?"

The newcomer was a strikingly handsome young man, tall and straight-backed, his very bearing betraying the signs of rigorous training.

"We're not exactly short-handed. But I'm not here to talk about the fight." He began with an introduction, "My name is Fang Tiancheng. Zhao Fan, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can have a pleasant conversation."

Fang Tiancheng sat down across from Zhao Fan, tossing a folder onto the table before him.

"Take a look, Mr. Zhao."

Zhao Fan frowned slightly, opened the folder, and was immediately confronted with news of antiques being illegally shipped overseas. In an instant, certain things became clear to him, and his expression grew grave.

"This has nothing to do with me," Zhao Fan replied bluntly.

Fang Tiancheng smiled. Clearly, this was a man with both brains and guts—a worthy adversary for the Bai family.

"Are you sure you're not involved?"

"Of course." Zhao Fan closed the folder and pushed it back. "And I also believe you know perfectly well that I have nothing to do with this."

If they'd found even a shred of evidence, he wouldn't be sitting here so calmly.

"The investigation shows you're clean, but I think there’s something more to you." Fang Tiancheng propped his face up with both hands, smiling as he regarded Zhao Fan.

"You think? Since when do police officers handle cases based on feelings?" Zhao Fan retorted sarcastically.

Fang Tiancheng laughed. "Well, that's not exactly right. I just go with my gut. No point beating around the bush with you. Tell me, what’s the story with your Song Dynasty Porcelain Wind-Listening Vase?"

The Song Dynasty Porcelain Wind-Listening Vase?

Zhao Fan’s eyes flickered. "What story? I acquired it through proper channels at an auction. The final price was three million—hardly something I need to elaborate on, is it?"

"By your account, no, it’s straightforward enough. But there’s one thing I find odd."

"And what would that be?"

"The Bai family challenged you to a gamble, staking land worth fifty million as the wager. Anyone else would have hesitated, yet you not only accepted, you even raised the stakes to a hundred million. Care to explain?"

"Of course. Because someone gave me the confidence to do so."

"What do you mean?"

"If you can suspect me over the Song Dynasty Vase, you must also know what happened at the auction. There was someone else bidding against me for the vase, and the three million price was driven up by the two of us."

"I’m aware of that incident."

"Then do you know who was bidding against me?"

Fang Tiancheng’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing.

From his silence, Zhao Fan deduced the truth—Fang Tiancheng didn’t know, or perhaps he’d investigated but found nothing.

Zhao Fan smiled faintly and placed both hands on the table. "It seems you haven’t found out. No matter, I’ll tell you. The person bidding against me was Wu Qingfeng, President of Yuanhong Group—also known as Second Master Wu."

Fang Tiancheng’s face darkened. "Are you telling the truth?"

Zhao Fan spread his hands. "There’s no need for me to lie about this. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have dared go head-to-head with the Bai family. After all, even if I were sold by the pound, I couldn’t cover that bet."

His attitude was clear—everything he’d done was with Wu Qingfeng’s backing. There was a casual sense of entitlement in his words, and Fang Tiancheng found himself at a loss for a retort.

"You’re clever," Fang Tiancheng said. "Every word you say stands up to scrutiny."

It was a tenuous justification, but not without merit.

Zhao Fan merely smiled and answered with silence.

Seeing this, Fang Tiancheng picked up the folder and stood. "Antique smuggling is no trivial matter. I hope you’ll keep this confidential and say nothing of it to others."

Zhao Fan rose as well. "Then, Officer Fang, may I leave now?"

"No."

Zhao Fan was momentarily speechless.

Fang Tiancheng raised an eyebrow. "I’m investigating smuggling, but the reason you’re here is for instigating a brawl. The questioning isn’t finished."

In other words, the circumstances are different—Zhao Fan need not think of leaving just yet.

Zhao Fan shrugged. "Thanks for the reminder."

With that, he sat back down, composure unruffled.

Fang Tiancheng lowered his gaze, concealing the complex emotions within, and his opinion of Zhao Fan rose another notch.

Shortly after the door to the interrogation room closed, the officer who had previously questioned Zhao Fan returned. His attitude had changed noticeably since before.

"It’s a fact that you participated in the brawl."

"Let’s be clear—we acted in legitimate self-defense. Even if there was a fight, you have to consider the underlying cause."

No matter what the officer said, Zhao Fan clung to that one point: they acted in legitimate self-defense. The conversation circled endlessly, never moving beyond this argument.

Just as the situation deadlocked, the door swung open.

"Enough, someone’s posted their bail. All the paperwork is done."

Zhao Fan was taken aback—someone had posted bail for them?

"But…" The officer looked reluctant, but had no choice but to set aside his emotions, gather his things, and let Zhao Fan leave.

Once outside the precinct, Zhao Fan glanced back, a flicker of emotion crossing his face before he composed himself.

"Let’s go."

Though the supermarket staff were all battered and bruised, upon hearing Zhao Fan’s words, smiles broke out on their faces.

"Let’s head back to the supermarket."

Zhao Fan, walking ahead, stopped and said helplessly, "Back to the supermarket? We’re going to the hospital."

With all their black eyes and swollen faces, if he let them return like that, their families would be besieging the supermarket by morning.

By the time they left the hospital, it was already evening. Their wounds had all been treated, and Zhao Fan sighed, "You should all head home for now."

"We’re not going back to the supermarket?"

"Boss, what about the store?"

"…"

One after another, they spoke, but Zhao Fan waved them off. "Don’t worry about it. Go home for now. The store will be closed tomorrow, and I’ll let you know when we reopen."

"Alright."

Watching the group leave, Zhao Fan returned alone to the supermarket. Everything he’d organized earlier in the day was still tidy. Without the lights on, the place was shrouded in darkness.

He switched on the lights one by one, and suddenly heard a voice calling from outside.

"Zhao Fan! Zhao Fan?"

It was Yang Yuqing.

Realizing this, Zhao Fan turned and headed to the door, where he saw her.

The night wind stirred the hem of her pale dress, making it flutter. She held a white clutch, and in the night’s haze, she looked ethereal.

"Why are you here?"

"I heard something happened, so I came to check on you. Are you alright?"

Zhao Fan’s expression softened a little. "It’s nothing serious."

As they spoke, Yang Yuqing stepped closer and, seeing Zhao Fan’s face, gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

"What happened to your face?"

Zhao Fan waved it off nonchalantly. "Just a minor mishap."