The middle-aged man pointed at Old Man Ding and said, "This is a member of the Antiques Association, known as Mr. Ding. He knows more about antiques than you do. He's the one who sold this vase."

"You flatter me, you flatter me." Old Man Ding bowed to Zhang Fan in a refined manner, then asked directly, "Does this young man think this vase is fake?"

“It was fake to begin with,” Zhang Fan said calmly.

Mr. Ding raised his brow: "I bought this Qing Dynasty vase from you. I have appraised countless treasures and have never made a mistake."

As he spoke, he took out a certificate from his bag: "This is my membership card."

The owner of the vase also produced a certificate of authenticity: "This is an antique certificate of authenticity, and it's signed by Mr. Ding. How could it be fake?"

Zhang Fan shook his head: "It's just a certificate, you can get one by paying money."

Mr. Ding's face immediately fell.

His professionalism is beyond question.

Zhang Fan smiled meaningfully: "Are you sure this vase is the one you took out?"

Mr. Ding was stunned and quickly looked at the broken pieces of porcelain on the ground.

He picked up a shard of porcelain, examined it closely, and even held it under his nose to sniff it.

Mr. Ding was stunned for a moment, then picked up the broken porcelain shards from the ground, looked at them for a long time, and suddenly looked up: "This...this is not the vase I sold."

The middle-aged man retorted, "I just came out of your shop. You sold me a fake vase, so you have to compensate me!"

Mr. Ding was so angry that his beard stood on end: "The vase I sold is indeed an antique, but yours is faked. Where did you hide the vase?"

The middle-aged man shouted loudly, "Everyone come and see! The owner of Guangjuzhai is selling counterfeit goods and then accusing me of theft. You say I switched the goods? Then tell me where I hid the vase?"

Zhang Fan's voice was cold as he pointed to a sewer not far away: "Right there."

The middle-aged man's expression changed drastically, his eyes darting around: "You...you're talking nonsense!"

Mr. Ding immediately ran to the sewer, looked down, but saw nothing.

The middle-aged man said smugly, "You've all teamed up to frame me."

Zhang Fan: "From the side."

This matter concerned his reputation, so Mr. Ding disregarded the filth of the sewer, reached out and pulled open the sewer grate cover, peered through the opening to the side, and sure enough, saw a package of greaseproof paper stuck to the side of the sewer. He lay down, took out the greaseproof paper, opened it, and saw that it was the stuff he had sold.

"These are the antique vases I sell."

That's right, the antique is fake.

Seeing that the situation was not good, the middle-aged man took off running.

Mr. Ding instinctively tried to stop it, but was knocked to the ground, and the antique vase was knocked away.

He watched helplessly as the vase flew into the air, finally closing his eyes in despair, his face filled with heartache. The vase was sure to shatter this time.

Unexpectedly, he heard a burst of applause. He opened his eyes in surprise and saw Zhang Fan holding an antique vase in one hand and stepping on the middle-aged man's back with one foot.

Then Zhang Fan suddenly raised his foot and kicked the middle-aged man in the chest. The middle-aged man flew backward, his back hit the blue brick wall a few meters away, and then he fell heavily to the ground.

Mr. Ding called the police, and they arrived shortly after. Upon seeing the middle-aged man, their faces lit up with joy.

"Feng Hong, I've finally caught you."

The moment Feng Hong saw the police, his face was filled with despair, and he regretted his actions.

He was a fugitive convicted of fraud. He felt that swindling money was too slow, so he came up with a way to make money quickly—by staging accidents.

He was looking for a sucker today when he saw Zhang Fan and his companion get out of a luxury car. He knew Zhang Fan must be a rich man.

As a con artist, he was adept at spotting whether someone was wealthy. Although Zhang Fan dressed like a country bumpkin, he recognized that the ebony bracelet on Zhang Fan's wrist was worth at least several hundred thousand yuan.

According to his plan, he first bought an antique vase from Mr. Ding and hid it. Then he bought an identical replica and pretended that Zhang Fan had broken it to extort money.

After the incident, he would move to another place, sell the antique vases, and easily extort hundreds of thousands of yuan.

But to everyone's surprise, Zhang Fan was able to recognize the vase.

Not only did he fail to extort any money, he also landed himself in jail.

The police put Feng Hong into the police car, and Mr. Ding bowed deeply to Zhang Fan.

There's a rule in the antique business: helping others forge items is a major taboo. He almost ruined his own reputation today.

If this gets out, not only will his reputation in the antique world be ruined, but he will also lose everything.

"Thank you for protecting my reputation, young man. I own an antique shop called Guangjuzhai. I'll definitely come over sometime." He was currently covered in sewer grime and it wasn't convenient for him to invite Zhang Fan over.

Mr. Ding carefully carried the antique vase back home.

Just as Zhang Fan was about to leave, he heard a sneer: "A country bumpkin like you dares to come to the antique street?"

Looking to the side, he saw a woman dressed in flamboyant attire, her lips curled down, staring at Zhang Fan with disdain.

Zhang Fan frowned slightly, feeling that this woman looked familiar.

He looked closely and finally recognized the other person.

Anger instantly flashed in Zhang Fan's eyes, and his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

He hated this woman to the core; she was his girlfriend from college, Shen Ping.

Shen Ping has shed her innocent image, exuding shrewdness and calculation. She's had double eyelid surgery and a nose job, giving her a very plastic look.

She was the one who seduced Zhang Fan in the first place, using him to complete assignments and write papers, which earned her the title of outstanding student.

Later, she hooked up with a rich second-generation. She could have broken up with him, but she insisted on humiliating him and had him beaten up, causing him to be mentally impaired for several years.

Zhang Fan dreams of smashing the heads of those two bastards.

Chen Ping's voice was shrill, and she fanned the air in front of her nose with disgust: "You've actually fallen so low as to be with a beggar. How disgusting."

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