Chapter 82: Delving Deeper into the Investigation

“Yes, and no.”

Yes and no?

Zhao Fan narrowed his eyes, continuing to pour wine for Mu Tianrong, determined to get him drunk before questioning him further.

After several drinks, Mu Tianrong grew tipsy. Seeing this, Zhao Fan asked, “Earlier you said yes and no—so is it related to the Song dynasty porcelain Listening Wind Vase, but not much to do with the auction itself?”

Mu Tianrong shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s mainly because of the auction of the Song dynasty porcelain Listening Wind Vase.”

As Mu Tianrong recounted, Zhao Fan finally understood: Mu Tianrong had claimed the credit for auctioning the Listening Wind Vase as his own achievement, which allowed him to jump up a tier and become a host at the lower-level auctions.

A year ago, he had been brought along to such banquets, but with no money, could only attend as a guest. Later, Mu Tianrong slowly saved some money, and occasionally managed to win a lot or two at auction.

The auctions were informal, but the items offered were of unquestionable value, and Mu Tianrong could turn a hefty profit with each resale.

“Let me tell you, selling antiques to foreign buyers is the most lucrative—it’s at least double the auction price,” Mu Tianrong boasted, his wealth accumulated from such dealings.

Zhao Fan, however, discerned something else: as the bank manager, Mu Tianrong’s salary could never have afforded the capital needed to auction antiques.

“Manager Mu, did you really save up the initial auction funds yourself?”

Mu Tianrong hugged the wine bottle, chuckling slyly. “Well, you see… hehehe…”

He kept laughing, but Zhao Fan grasped the key point: so-called savings were a fiction—Mu Tianrong had used certain means at the bank.

Lowering his voice, Mu Tianrong confided, “I embezzled a little money, but once I made a profit, I paid it back. This back-and-forth trading was pure gain for me.”

Pure gain, indeed—the cost was all borne by the bank, and Mu Tianrong only assumed a small part of the risk.

Eyeing Mu Tianrong, Zhao Fan’s gaze flashed cold. Not only embezzling public funds, but selling the nation’s antiques to foreigners—how contemptible.

Suppressing his emotions, Zhao Fan continued to pour Mu Tianrong more drinks, gently coaxing out a wealth of information.

Among these, he learned the auction was membership-based, requiring someone to guide you in. Three absences led to disqualification, and the more money spent, the higher the status, granting access to more exclusive auctions.

At the end of the meal, Mu Tianrong whispered conspiratorially, “You must spend more—trust me, you won’t lose out.”

With those words, Mu Tianrong collapsed completely.

Disgust flickered in Zhao Fan’s eyes as he pulled out his phone, which was still connected.

Earlier that morning, Zhao Fan had made a special trip to the police bureau, inviting Fang Tiancheng out for a meal.

Halfway through, he briefly described the banquet he attended.

Upon hearing it involved antiques, Fang Tiancheng grew serious, confirming the connection between the two matters.

They then laid out several plans, one of which included recording everything.

Before entering the private room, Zhao Fan had called Fang Tiancheng, and the entire conversation with Mu Tianrong was transmitted through the phone, heard clearly by Fang Tiancheng.

“The general situation is clear—we’ll have to wait for further developments,” Fang Tiancheng said, thanking him.

“No need for thanks—it’s my duty.”

After hanging up, Zhao Fan summoned Xu An to escort Mu Tianrong home.

Being an old acquaintance, Xu An certainly knew Mu Tianrong’s address.

Seeing Mu Tianrong’s drunken state, Xu An was unfazed and took him away without question.

Two days later, Zhao Fan received another call from Mu Tianrong, inviting him to a banquet that evening.

“Five o’clock in the afternoon, Deyuan Hotel.”

Zhao Fan arrived punctually, and with the intention of playing the long game, he bid on a bowl said to have belonged to a Ming emperor, spending a hundred thousand.

Another two days passed; Zhao Fan received another notice and hurried to a different hotel.

His seemingly ordinary actions were, in reality, under constant police surveillance.

After attending four such “banquets,” Zhao Fan met Wang Er again—the host of the first event—who smiled and handed him a token.

“This is your key to entry, Mr. Zhao. You must keep it safe—never lose it.”

The token was gold inlaid with jade, rectangular and as long as a middle finger, with the number 103 engraved on the front and the English word “zero” on the back, meaning “hero.”

It hung from a braided purple cord, making it wearable as a necklace.

Zhao Fan rubbed the number thoughtfully, then asked deliberately, “What would happen if I really lost it?”

Wang Er’s smile deepened. “I trust Mr. Zhao would not wish to see the consequences.”

Zhao Fan smirked. “Rest assured, Mr. Wang Er—if you give me something, even if I lose myself, I won’t lose the token.”

In front of Wang Er, Zhao Fan slipped the token around his neck, tucking it into his shirt and patting it lightly.

“Are you satisfied, Mr. Wang Er?”

“Very satisfied.”

Not long after Wang Er left, Mu Tianrong approached Zhao Fan, sizing him up and focusing on his neck.

His gaze was so obvious that Zhao Fan pulled out the token. “Manager Mu, are you looking at this?”

Mu Tianrong inhaled sharply, immediately pressing the token back into place.

“Be careful—this token isn’t for everyone’s eyes.”

With that, Mu Tianrong’s expression grew wistful.

“I never expected he’d give you that token.”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

“Not wrong, per se, but it’s prestigious—the purple cord is…” Here, Mu Tianrong suddenly fell silent, then warned Zhao Fan never to let the cord show.

“There aren’t many people with this cord.”

In the car, Zhao Fan took off the token. Considering Mu Tianrong’s words, he wondered if the number 103 meant he was the one hundred and third person to receive such a token.

How could a simple token be a key?

Just then, his phone vibrated.

Zhao Fan glanced at the caller ID—Fang Tiancheng—and was about to answer when the call ended.

Hmm? Hung up?

Zhao Fan found it odd and called back.

Before it rang through, the call was cut again.

This happened several times, making Zhao Fan uneasy.

Fang Tiancheng wasn’t the kind of person to call and then hang up repeatedly.

Was something wrong?

“Ding-dong—”

A text notification sounded. Zhao Fan picked up his phone to see a message: “Unknown signal detected.”

Unknown signal?

Zhao Fan immediately focused on the token, his expression shifting. Was there something inside it?

Without thinking further, he deleted the message and acted as if nothing had happened when he returned home.

The next day, he went straight to Feiteng Company, using pen and paper to communicate. He explained that he possessed an item with a problem, and asked Han Chen if it could be solved.

He placed the small token on the table; Han Chen scrutinized it for a while, then told Zhao Fan he would need time.

He would spend the whole day on it.

Zhao Fan wrote four words; Han Chen nodded in understanding.

“How has the company been lately?”