The Young Master of the Geomancy Clan Goes Viral After Livestreaming Antiques Appraisals

As the heir to this generation of the Dishi Sect, Zong Qiao took on the responsibility of keeping the sect fed.

But aside from Dishi techniques, he knew nothing about anything else.

So Zong Qiao hoisted a banner, went to set up a stall beneath an overpass, and started livestreaming, just as was trending online.

Zong Qiao didn't tell fortunes or read people's destinies. He only appraised antiques.

His outstanding looks earned him a following of fans who were there to admire his face.

On the first day of his stall, someone brought him a glass marble for appraisal. They called it an appraisal, but were really there to cause trouble.

Zong Qiao took a good look.

Oh, what a treasure!

A thousand-year-old mermaid pearl, and one with red streaks at that, brimming with resentment.

“This pearl is a rare treasure. If you don't get rid of it, the merpeople will come for revenge tonight, and you'll be in grave danger.”

The livestream chat filled with mockery.

That night, someone came into Zong Qiao's livestream to beg for help.

[Master, save me!]

Zong Qiao successfully rescued them, but on his way back, he accidentally rolled his eyes back and fainted in front of a luxury car.

Zhou Wenjing, who seemed to have been deliberately hit by the man, had no choice but to take him home.

Zhou Wenjing discovered that this young man, who was always staring at his face in a daze, really knew his stuff.

And so Zong Qiao began his days doing under-the-table work for Zhou Wenjing, an antique collector.

“This hand fan of yours is a fine piece, but it's brimming with resentment. You shouldn't keep it around.”

“This scroll is a fine piece too, but it's brimming with resentment. You shouldn't keep it around.”

Zhou Wenjing: “Then what do you think we should do with them?”

Zong Qiao: “Give them to me!”

Zhou Wenjing: “...”

Zong Qiao: “You look like you've got a dark aura between your brows too, and you're brimming with resentment. How about...”

“Fine. They're yours.”

That night, Zong Qiao draped an arm over his shoulder and lamented bitterly.

“Can I return it?”

“No!”

Blurb saved on April 10, 2024 (Weibo archive)

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