Penetration. Golden light. The mark. "Made in the Great Ming Era".
It was real.
Frantically, I grabbed my grandfather's prized heirloom, a mutton-fat jade pendant he said was passed down for generations. Magnifying glass up. Again, my sight was swallowed. The internal structure was impossibly fine and dense, glowing with a soft, pure, white radiance. Deeper still, I could make out natural, cloud-like formations, swirling with what I can only describe as a condensed essence of… something ancient.
Then, for a control, I snatched up a cheap, mass-produced ceramic horse I knew was a modern fake. I looked. Nothing. Just dead, coarse material, uniform air bubbles, and the sterile signature of synthetic compounds.
The truth hit me like a physical blow. This tarnished piece of junk in my hand… was a key. It could see past the surface, into the soul of an object. It revealed a "treasure-glow," the imprint of age, the very essence of authenticity, especially in antiques.
A wild, almost violent euphoria surged through me. This was it. A way out. A way up.
But just as quickly, the excitement curdled into a heavy, sobering dread. This wasn't normal. This was impossible. What was this thing? I clutched the cold, rusty brass, feeling like I was holding both a lifeline and a live wire.
Now, bouncing in the truck as my old life receded in the rearview mirror, the weight of it was immense. The sneer on Su Wanqing's face, the cold efficiency of the demolition crew, my mother's tears—they all crystallized into a single, cold point of focus: this magnifying glass.
I didn't know where this road led. I didn't have a plan.
But I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that everything had changed. The collapse of my home and the awakening of this… thing… weren't coincidences. It was a hard reboot. A system crash followed by a new, terrifying, and utterly unpredictable program booting up.
And I was holding the cheat code.
The old truck finally came to a stop at the entrance of a aging residential complex on the other side of the city. This was a small, less-than-fifty-square-meter apartment that had been allocated to his mother by her work unit years ago. Because of its less-than-ideal location, it had always been rented out. Now, the lease had just expired, and they had taken it back to live in themselves. Compared to their old, demolished family home, this place felt even more cramped and shabby, but at least it was a roof over their heads.
The next few days were a whirlwind of unpacking and organizing for Lin Mo and his mother. The tiny space was crammed with items salvaged from their old house, most of which were "junk" they couldn't bear to throw away. His mother often looked at these things, tears quietly welling in her eyes. Lin Mo, meanwhile, bottled up all his emotions, burying himself in the work. Only late at night, in the stillness, would he take out that cold, brass magnifying glass, repeatedly running his fingers over it, sensing the faint, almost unreal thrill it seemed to emit.
They managed to settle in, somehow. His mother found a part-time job as a cleaner at a supermarket, but the pay was meager. Lin Mo knew he had to do something. The college entrance exams were looming, but even if he got in, the tuition and living expenses would be a heavy burden. That magnifying glass felt like his only real hope.
One weekend morning, Lin Mo headed out with the 200 yuan his mother had just given him for living expenses and the magnifying glass, carefully tucked away in his pocket. His destination was the city's famous Wenhua Antique Street. The place was a maze of shops and street stalls, piled high with items of dubious authenticity. The air buzzed with noise and the haggling of vendors and customers in various accents.
Taking a deep breath, Lin Mo merged into the crowd. In his school uniform, he looked like any other student—nobody gave him a second glance. He mimicked the others, crouching down at various stalls, pretending to browse casually. Secretly, he palmed the magnifying glass, using his posture to quickly scan items that caught his eye.
He checked over a dozen stalls. Almost everything he saw was a fake. Those seemingly antique vases and bowls appeared rough and dull inside under the magnifying glass's view, completely lacking any "brilliance." Occasionally, he'd spot an item with a faint, internal glow, but it was either from the late Qing or Republic of China era—common folk pottery with little value—or the vendor was asking an outrageous price, leaving no room for a good deal.
His heart sank. Was this ability only good for spotting fakes, not for finding truly valuable pieces? Or was his grandfather's magnifying glass just unreliable?
Just as he was about to give up, something caught his eye at a stall tucked away in an inconspicuous corner. An old man sat smoking on a small stool, his stall a messy collection of copper coins, seals, and small jade items. Among them was a palm-sized, dark, mud-caked bronze paperweight shaped like a coiled chi-dragon. The workmanship looked rough, even crude in places, with patches of green corrosion.
The old vendor didn't even look up, muttering a price, "Three hundred. Firm."
Lin Mo's heart skipped a beat. Forcing calm, he crouched down and picked up the heavy paperweight. It felt cool in his hand. Pretending to examine it, he secretly activated the magnifying glass's vision.
Piercing through the thick layer of patina and grime, the internal view made him catch his breath!
A steady, heavy, concentrated dark golden "brilliance," substantial as liquid gold, uniformly saturated the bronze's interior! This glow was far stronger and purer than any faint aura he'd seen before! And on the inner curve of the coiled dragon's body, where his vision penetrated, there were several incredibly ancient, yet distinct, gold-inlaid seal script characters: "永寿吉昌" (Eternal Life, Auspicious Prosperity). Surrounding the inscription, the halo of light indicating its age radiated a profound, desolate aura uniquely characteristic of the Han Dynasty!
Han Dynasty! This was a Han Dynasty gold-inlaid bronze chi-dragon paperweight! And it was completely intact, just hidden beneath the grime!
His hand trembled slightly. He fought to suppress the surge of excitement, keeping his face neutral, even deliberately frowning. "Boss, this thing is all corroded. It's basically scrap metal, right? How about a hundred?"
The old man blew a smoke ring and glanced at him sideways. "Kid, if you don't know what you're looking at, don't lowball me. Three hundred. Take it or leave it."
Knowing he couldn't seem too eager, Lin Mo feigned hesitation. He picked up an obviously fake jade thumb ring nearby, then, as if making a tough decision, pulled out three crumpled 100-yuan notes from his pocket—his food money for the next week. "Alright, fine. Three hundred it is."
He had just handed over the money and picked up the paperweight, barely having time to feel its weight, when a clear, cool female voice sounded beside him:
"Wait a moment."
Lin Mo turned to see a woman in her early twenties. She was dressed in a well-tailored, off-white casual outfit. Her elegance was striking, her features classically beautiful with porcelain-like skin. There was an air of intellect about her, but also an undeniable, inherent poise. A man in a black suit, who looked like a bodyguard or assistant, stood沉稳 behind her.
The woman's gaze fell on the paperweight in Lin Mo's hand, a flicker of surprise and curiosity in her eyes. "This paperweight... might I take a look?"
Lin Mo hesitated for a second, then handed it over. This woman's demeanor was unusual; she didn't seem ordinary.
She took the paperweight, examining it carefully—the form of the dragon, the patina, running her fingers lightly over its surface. The surprise in her eyes deepened. She looked up at Lin Mo, her tone polite but firm. "You there, student. I happen to have taken a liking to this paperweight. Would you be willing to part with it? I'll offer you ten thousand for it."
"T-ten... ten thousand?!" Lin Mo was stunned. The old vendor's head jerked up, his pipe nearly falling from his mouth. He stared, wide-eyed, at the woman, then at the "piece of scrap metal" in Lin Mo's hand, his face a mask of utter disbelief.
Lin Mo's heart hammered against his ribs. Ten thousand! To him, it was an astronomical sum. But he forced himself to cool down instantly. This woman had a discerning eye. If she was willing to offer ten thousand, the real value had to be far higher! With his unique vision, he knew this was a genuine Han Dynasty artifact. He had no precise idea of its worth, but it was definitely, undoubtedly, worth more than ten thousand!
He took a deep breath and shook his head, striving to keep his voice steady. "I'm sorry, it's not for sale."
The woman's brow furrowed slightly, seemingly surprised by the student's composure. She paused for a moment, then spoke again. "Thirty thousand."
The old vendor's jaw hung open. He was speechless, his pipe forgotten.
Lin Mo's palms were sweating, but he shook his head again, firm.
"Fifty thousand." Her tone remained calm, but her gaze sharpened, locking intently on Lin Mo.
A small crowd had begun to gather, drawn by the commotion. Murmurs of shock and disbelief rippled through them at the latest offer.