Captain Wang's warning was like a bucket of cold water, sobering Chen Mo up. It turned out that old guy had long known about Zhou Hong's dirty deeds, but didn't dare to speak up because he was holding a trump card. Chen Mo tossed and turned in bed, thinking: Resigning and leaving was impossible. He had finally touched the edge of the truth, and hadn't found the bronze pendant yet—how could he give up halfway? But Captain Wang's words also reminded him that Zhou Hong was ruthless, and he had to find ironclad evidence to bring him down as soon as possible.
Early the next morning, Chen Mo deliberately detoured to the suburban supply and marketing cooperative, spending half a month's salary on two catties of peach shortbread and a bottle of Erguotou—a real luxury in the 1980s. He thought the old craftsman was alone and coerced by Zhou Hong; bringing some practical things might help pry his mouth open.
After work, as dusk fell, Chen Mo carried the things straight to the old craftsman's alley. This time he was smarter—instead of knocking directly, he squatted under the old pagoda tree at the alley entrance, pretending to be enjoying the cool air. After waiting for about half an hour, he saw the old craftsman hunched over coming back from outside, holding a vegetable basket with only a few green vegetables and two steamed buns inside.
"Uncle, you're back?" Chen Mo quickly stood up, putting on a simple and honest smile.
The old craftsman was startled. When he saw it was him, his eyes instantly became vigilant: "Why are you here again? Did Zhou Hong send you?"
"No, no!" Chen Mo quickly waved his hand, holding out the things in his hand: "Uncle, I really came to visit you. I know you're coerced by Zhou Hong and feel wronged. I want to help you and expose him too—I can't let the national treasures be ruined by him like this."
The old craftsman stared at the peach shortbread and Erguotou in his hand, swallowing hard—obviously tempted, but still hesitant. He looked left and right, then said in a low voice: "Come in with me, don't talk too much."
Entering the old craftsman's small courtyard, there was a mixed smell of coal smoke and clay. The yard was piled with many broken porcelain pieces. Chen Mo glanced at them and sure enough, saw the familiar "Zhou" character mark at the bottom of several pieces.
"Sit." The old craftsman put the vegetable basket in the corner, poured a glass of boiled water and handed it to Chen Mo: "What exactly do you want to know? Let me tell you upfront—Zhou Hong's people might be watching nearby. More words mean more mistakes."
"Uncle, I want to know where Zhou Hong got his instrument? How many fakes has he made in total? Where have all the genuine ones been sold?" Chen Mo got straight to the point, while observing the old craftsman's expression.
The old craftsman sighed, took a sip of boiled water: "That instrument was bought by Zhou Hong from a tomb robber ten years ago. It's said to be a 'magic artifact' passed down from ancient times that can scan the bones (molecular structure) of cultural relics. The fakes made are even more real than the genuine ones. I've helped him make no less than fifty pieces these years—bronzes, porcelains, calligraphy and paintings, everything. Most of the genuine ones are sold abroad through an underground dealer named 'Old Ghost', each selling for tens of thousands of yuan—more than I can earn in a lifetime."
"Wow, that old fox made a fortune!" Chen Mo cursed secretly in his heart, but asked aloud: "Uncle, haven't you ever thought about resisting? Or secretly keeping evidence?"
The old craftsman smiled bitterly: "Resist? My grandson is in his hands—dare I disobey? But I did keep a trick up my sleeve." He walked into the house and took out a cloth bag. Opening it, there were several yellowed drawings and a jade pendant inside: "These are simple operation drawings of the instrument that I secretly drew; this 'peace buckle' was copied at Zhou Hong's request. The genuine one is from the Han Dynasty, with a special 'Han' character mark on it. All the genuine ones stolen by him have similar marks, and I've written down all the marks on the back of the drawings."
Chen Mo took the cloth bag, his heart filled with excitement—this was key evidence! He flipped through the drawings, and sure enough, the back was densely filled with the names and marks of cultural relics, as well as several addresses—presumably the locations of secret warehouses.
"Uncle, thank you so much!" Chen Mo said solemnly: "Don't worry, after I expose Zhou Hong, I will definitely help you rescue your grandson!"
The old craftsman shook his head: "No need. My grandson was sent abroad by Zhou Hong to study last year. They said it's for studying, but it's actually as a hostage. I just hope Zhou Hong falls soon so I can spend the rest of my life in peace."
As they were talking, they suddenly heard footsteps outside the courtyard gate. The old craftsman's face changed: "Not good—maybe it's Zhou Hong's people! You quickly leave through the back door, take the drawings and jade pendant with you, don't let them find you!"
Chen Mo was also flustered. He quickly stuffed the cloth bag into his arms and followed the old craftsman out through the back door. Outside the back door was a vegetable field. Chen Mo ran, stepping deep and shallow, while the old craftsman's deliberate coughing came from behind—he must be stalling for time.
After running for more than ten minutes, Chen Mo finally stopped, leaning against a big tree and gasping for breath. He touched the cloth bag in his arms—it was still there. He felt both relieved and scared—if he had been caught just now, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
Back at his residence, Chen Mo carefully hid the drawings and jade pendant under the bed board, then sorted out the previously taken film and copied access lists, hiding them together. Now the evidence was becoming more and more sufficient—he felt it was time to report Zhou Hong.
But how to report him? Go directly to the public security bureau? Zhou Hong must have connections locally; maybe he would suppress it. Go to the Provincial Department of Culture? Last time Captain Wang said Zhou Hong was an old classmate of the leader of the Department of Culture—there was also great risk.
"Forget it, let's try first!" Chen Mo gritted his teeth and decided to report anonymously. He found a piece of paper, wrote down Zhou Hong's crimes in detail, attached a few blurry photos (afraid of being recognized), then put the report letter into an envelope, planning to send it to the Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection early the next morning—it should be more impartial relatively speaking.
The next morning, Chen Mo deliberately took several detours, confirming no one was following him before putting the report letter into the mailbox of the Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection. Watching the envelope slide into the mailbox, he breathed a sigh of relief, as if he had already seen Zhou Hong being brought to justice.
What he didn't expect was that this report letter not only didn't work, but also accelerated the arrival of the crisis.
That afternoon, Chen Mo was sorting out documents in the secretary's office when Zhou Hong suddenly walked in, holding an opened envelope—it was the report letter he had sent that morning!
"Chen Mo, did you write this?" Zhou Hong had no expression on his face, but his eyes were as cold as ice.
Chen Mo's heart skipped a beat, panicking instantly—how could the report letter end up in Zhou Hong's hands? Could it be that the Commission for Discipline Inspection also had his people?
"Curator, I don't know what you're talking about?" Chen Mo tried to pretend to be calm, trying to muddle through.
Zhou Hong threw the report letter on the desk, sneering: "Don't know? This handwriting, these photos, and the fact that you secretly followed Lao Zhang and contacted the old craftsman—do you think I don't know?"
Chen Mo's heart sank—it seemed Zhou Hong had been monitoring him for a long time. He knew he couldn't hide it anymore, so he stood up: "Yes, I wrote it! Zhou Hong, you replace genuine cultural relics with fakes and smuggle national treasures—you will get your comeuppance sooner or later!"
"Comeuppance?" Zhou Hong laughed loudly: "In this world, power and money are the truth! You think you can expose me? Too naive!" He clapped his hands, and Lao Zhang and Xiao Li walked in from outside: "Keep an eye on him, don't let him run away."
"Zhou Hong, what do you want to do?" Chen Mo clenched his fists, feeling both anxious and angry.
"What do I want to do?" Zhou Hong walked up to him, patted his face: "Naturally, I want you to take the blame. Do you think I promoted you to secretary because I really valued you? I noticed you were strange a long time ago, so I wanted to keep you by my side to make it easier to monitor you. Now you've walked right into the trap—perfect. I'll use you, an 'unidentified' person, as a scapegoat for my cultural relic smuggling!"
Only then did Chen Mo realize that he had fallen into Zhou Hong's trap from the very beginning. He cursed himself for being stupid, actually being deceived by Zhou Hong's pretense.
"You're too despicable!" Chen Mo roared.
"Despicable? This is called smart!" Zhou Hong sneered: "Lao Zhang, take him down and lock him in the abandoned warehouse. After I arrange everything, I'll send him 'on his way'."
Lao Zhang stepped forward and grabbed Chen Mo's arm. Chen Mo struggled, trying to resist, but Lao Zhang was tall and strong, much stronger than him—he couldn't break free at all.
"Zhou Hong, you will die a horrible death!" Chen Mo struggled and cursed.
"Whether I die a horrible death or not is none of your business." Zhou Hong waved his hand: "Take him away!"
Lao Zhang dragged Chen Mo out of the secretary's office. The colleagues in the office area were all too scared to speak, bowing their heads and pretending to work. Chen Mo saw Sister Zhao standing in the crowd, her eyes filled with worry. He wanted to ask her for help, but the words stuck in his throat—he didn't want to implicate others.
Xiao Li followed behind, with a smug smile on his face: "Chen Mo, you finally got what you deserved! You stole my secretary position, and now you know the consequences!"
Chen Mo glared at him: "Xiao Li, helping Zhou Hong do such heinous things—sooner or later, he will silence you too!"
Xiao Li's face changed, but he insisted: "Nonsense! The curator will not treat me badly!"
On the way to the abandoned warehouse, Chen Mo saw Captain Wang standing at the entrance of the security room, looking at him with a complex expression. He didn't speak, only sighed softly. Chen Mo knew that Captain Wang was also helpless—he couldn't blame him.
The abandoned warehouse was dark and damp, piled with broken showcases and wooden boxes. Lao Zhang tied Chen Mo to a pillar, threw him a bottle of water and two steamed buns: "Stay honest, don't move around—otherwise, you'll regret it."
With that, Lao Zhang and Xiao Li turned around and left. The warehouse door was locked, leaving Chen Mo alone inside.
Chen Mo leaned against the pillar, feeling utterly desperate. He thought he had collected enough evidence to expose Zhou Hong, but he never expected to end up like this. Now he was locked here, calling out to heaven and earth for help, unable to return to the modern era, and even possibly silenced by Zhou Hong.
He touched the cloth bag in his arms—the drawings and jade pendant were still there. This was his only hope. He had to find a way to escape and hand over the evidence to someone who could truly uphold justice.
But he was tied tightly, and there were no tools in the warehouse—how could he escape?
Chen Mo struggled a few times, but the rope was tied too tightly—he couldn't break free at all. He looked around and saw a rusty iron nail on the wooden box next to him, his heart moving.
He slowly moved his body toward the wooden box. The ground in the warehouse was uneven; every move made him grin in pain. After great difficulty, he finally moved to the wooden box and grabbed the iron nail with his tied hands.
The iron nail was blunt, but it was better than nothing. Chen Mo used the nail to grind the rope little by little, his palms turning red and burning with pain, but he didn't dare to stop—he knew time was running out, and Zhou Hong might come back to silence him at any moment.
Just as he was grinding the rope, he suddenly heard footsteps at the warehouse door. Chen Mo was shocked, quickly hid the nail behind his back, and pretended to still be tied up.
The warehouse door opened, and Captain Wang walked in.
"Captain Wang, why are you here?" Chen Mo asked in surprise.
Captain Wang walked up to him, looked left and right, and said in a low voice: "I'm here to let you go. I can't bear to watch you be killed by Zhou Hong."
"Let me go?" Chen Mo was stunned: "Aren't you afraid of Zhou Hong's revenge?"
Captain Wang sighed: "I've thought it through. Instead of being threatened by him for the rest of my life, I'd rather take a risk. My grandson has grown up now—I don't have to be afraid of him anymore." He took out a key and unlocked the rope on Chen Mo: "Hurry up and leave, go out through the back door. I've already taken care of it. Remember, you must expose Zhou Hong's crimes and avenge those who were killed by him."
Chen Mo was too moved to speak: "Captain Wang, thank you! Don't worry, I won't let you down!"
"Stop talking nonsense, hurry up and go!" Captain Wang pushed him: "I'll distract them from the front."
Chen Mo didn't dare to delay. He picked up the cloth bag on the ground and ran toward the back door. He looked back and saw Captain Wang walking in the other direction of the warehouse, shouting: "Lao Zhang, Xiao Li, come quickly! Chen Mo is trying to escape!"
Chen Mo's heart warmed, and he quickened his pace. He knew that Captain Wang was protecting him in his own way.
Running out of the museum's back door, Chen Mo ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back. Night fell—he didn't know where to go, so he could only run toward the suburbs—where the old craftsman was, maybe he could hide there temporarily.
After running for about an hour, Chen Mo couldn't run anymore, leaning against a big tree and gasping for breath. He touched the cloth bag in his arms—the drawings and jade pendant were still there, making him feel a little more at ease.
Just then, he heard the roar of a car behind him. Chen Mo was shocked, turned around, and saw a black car driving toward him, its headlights dazzling—it was Zhou Hong's car!
"Oh no, I was discovered!" Chen Mo cursed secretly, turning around and running again.
But he had been running for a long time, already exhausted, unable to run faster than the car. The car quickly caught up to him, stopping in front of him. The door opened, and Zhou Hong and Lao Zhang got out.
"Chen Mo, you can't run away!" Zhou Hong sneered: "Snatch the cloth bag from him!"
Lao Zhang stepped forward and pounced at Chen Mo. Chen Mo subconsciously hid the cloth bag behind his back, grappling with Lao Zhang.
Chen Mo was no match for Lao Zhang, quickly being pressed to the ground. Lao Zhang reached out to grab the cloth bag, but Chen Mo hugged it tightly, refusing to let go.
"Let go!" Lao Zhang roared, punching Chen Mo in the face.
Chen Mo's nose immediately started bleeding, feeling dizzy, but he still refused to let go—this was his only hope!
Zhou Hong walked over impatiently, kicking Chen Mo in the stomach: "敬酒不吃吃罚酒 (You refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit)! Snatch the cloth bag, then kill him and throw him into the river to feed the fish!"
When Lao Zhang heard "kill him", his eyes turned fierce, and he increased his strength. Chen Mo felt his arm was about to be twisted off, and the cloth bag was about to be snatched away.
At this critical moment, the sound of police sirens suddenly came from a distance. Zhou Hong and Lao Zhang's faces changed, looking in the direction of the sirens.
"Oh no, it's the police!" Lao Zhang said in panic.
Zhou Hong was also flustered—he didn't expect the police to come. He looked at Chen Mo on the ground, then at the approaching police cars, gritting his teeth: "Retreat!"
Lao Zhang let go of Chen Mo, got into the car with Zhou Hong, and drove away quickly.
Chen Mo lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his face covered with sweat and blood. He looked up and saw several police cars driving toward him, feeling overjoyed—he was saved!
The police cars stopped, and several police officers got out. Seeing Chen Mo on the ground, they quickly stepped forward to ask: "How are you? Are you okay?"
Chen Mo struggled to stand up, wiping the blood from his face: "I'm okay, police officers. I want to report—Zhou Hong, the curator of Jiangsu Provincial Museum, uses an instrument to make fakes and smuggles national first-class cultural relics!"
The police officers looked at each other. One of the leading police officers said: "We're here to investigate Zhou Hong. Someone reported him anonymously, and we already have some evidence. Come with us to the police station and tell us the details."
Chen Mo's heart warmed—it seemed someone was secretly helping him—most likely Captain Wang or Sister Zhao. He nodded and got into the police car with the police officers.
Sitting in the police car, Chen Mo watched the night scene passing by outside the window, filled with emotion. He was finally temporarily safe, and finally had the opportunity to make Zhou Hong's crimes public. But he knew this was just the beginning—Zhou Hong had great power and would definitely not plead guilty easily. The upcoming trial would be a tough battle.
He touched the cloth bag in his arms—the drawings and jade pendant were still there. With this evidence, plus the clues already in the police's hands, he believed that justice would prevail.
What he didn't expect was that this tough battle would be more difficult than he imagined. Zhou Hong not only used all his connections, but also forged more evidence, trying to put him in hell completely...