The objects housed in the bank were certainly not ordinary; after all, eighty years had passed, and even a simple eating bowl from that era would now be considered an antique.

“Moreover, banking custodianship in that era was nowhere near as advanced as it is today; the average person wouldn't even think of storing things in a bank,” Mr. Feng remarked, his interest piqued. “So I am certain the contents are far from common.”

“No matter how uncommon they are, eighty years have gone by. Are the items even still there?” Curator Wang shook his head. “That’s why this voucher is a double-edged sword—tasteless to consume, yet a waste to discard.”

“Curator Wang, rest assured. I cannot speak for other matters, but the reputation of the HSBC bank is certainly trustworthy,” Mr. Feng immediately smiled. “There have been precedents for this; people have presented vouchers over a hundred years old, and the bank still managed to retrieve the items.”

“That’s right.”

Old Meng and Sha Qingfeng both nodded in agreement. As locals, they were well aware of HSBC’s credibility and standing.

Sha Qingfeng added with a slight smile, “Even if the items were lost, Brother Wang, you could use this as concrete evidence to demand compensation from the bank, with full justification.”

“Exactly.”

Old Meng concurred wholeheartedly. “Winning that lawsuit would be a sure thing; the only real question is the amount of compensation. If you aren't greedy and just ask for a modest sum of a few million, the bank would likely settle before a trial even began.”

“Oh, there’s an advantage to that too,” Curator Wang chuckled immediately. “It seems, Curator Wang [referring to Wang Guan], you’ve struck gold again.”

“Indeed, another huge score.”

Curator Wang mentioning it only stoked the envy of Sha Qingfeng and Old Meng.

“It’s not that simple.”

At the same time, Mr. Feng scrutinized the voucher again, weighing his words. “The voucher is only one component; a second piece of authentication is required to claim the items from the bank.”

“Authentication! What kind of authentication?” The others eagerly pressed him.

However, this second document seemed relatively easy to account for. After all, modern bank safekeeping procedures required more than just a voucher—they also needed a registered signature or seal, perhaps a fingerprint or a passcode. Decades ago, the system might not have been as complex, but stamping a seal would have been simple enough.

As expected, Mr. Feng pointed to a sheet of paper, indicating, “An official seal is also required.”

Everyone quickly looked over. Indeed, there was a vermilion seal impression on the paper. However, judging by the lines of the print, it clearly wasn't script but resembled some kind of pattern.

Seeing this, the group’s earlier excitement plummeted. They frowned in unison. After all, the voucher alone was useless; full procedures required the authentication mark as well. Otherwise, the bank wouldn't release the goods, and even a lawsuit would be unwinnable.

“All that excitement for nothing,” Curator Wang muttered, shaking his head. “Truly, fortune hides disaster.”

“Not necessarily.”

Just then, Wang Guan stroked his chin thoughtfully. “For some reason, this pattern looks familiar to me.”

“How so?”

Pi Qiu immediately leaned in. “Brother, do you have anything similar in your collection?”

“It’s not something in my collection. It’s just that everyone seems to be overcomplicating things,” Wang Guan said with a slight smile. “Sometimes, things that seem light-years away are actually right under our noses…”

“What do you mean?” The others were understandably confused. They followed Wang Guan’s gaze and, upon seeing an item hanging from the chest, comprehension dawned on them all.

“Ha! It really was a case of being blind right under the lamp.”

In an instant, Curator Wang realized the truth. He immediately reached out, took the padlock hanging on the chest, and pulled out his personal mud-seal box. He quickly dabbed some ink onto the Manchu script face of the lock and pressed it firmly onto a square cloth.

In the next second, a perfectly clear patterned impression appeared before their eyes.

“Because the Manchu script is engraved in relief, the impression comes out reversed. That very reversal creates a distinctive vermilion mark that is impossible for an ordinary person to forge,” Curator Wang explained, a touch of wonder in his voice. “I doubt anyone would ever guess that the required authentication was a padlock, and even more remarkably, that the padlock itself wasn't lost…”

The others nodded in agreement. The affair had twisted and turned, their moods rising and falling, and now they could finally relax.

“This is fate,” Mr. Feng said, turning to Wang Guan with a broad smile. “If Mr. Wang is amenable, I would be happy to handle this matter for you.”

“I couldn't ask for more,” Wang Guan readily agreed. He wasn't foolish; he knew that if he handled it himself, the HSBC bank might delay or make excuses. But with Mr. Feng involved, the resolution would likely be swift and seamless.

If the mainland operated under bureaucratic seniority, then Hong Kong, this bustling financial hub, operated under capital seniority. One couldn't claim capital manipulated everything, but it certainly held influence over many people and affairs.

So, after Mr. Feng took charge, the bank responded within just one day: the items were secure and ready for collection upon processing the necessary paperwork.

Upon receiving Mr. Feng’s call, Wang Guan and the others arrived at the bank without hesitation.

With Mr. Feng accompanying them, the bank had absolutely no grounds for obstruction. They processed the simple procedures according to protocol, which inevitably included paying a substantial storage fee. If the stored items turned out to be worthless, Wang Guan would have clearly lost out.

Next, someone directed Wang Guan toward the high-security vault. Indeed, only Wang Guan was permitted to enter; the others waited outside.

“Sir, your guaranteed items are inside. Please proceed at your leisure,” the manager accompanying him stated, then smiled faintly and tactfully retreated.

Whether it was a trick of the light or not, Wang Guan felt the manager’s smile held a strange quality. However, he soon understood the reason for that unsettling smile: the safe was locked, and crucially, the manager had not given him the key.

At first, Wang Guan assumed the manager had been careless. But the moment he turned back, he grasped the implication. This wasn't negligence; it was deliberate. Standard bank safes usually came with two keys: one held by the bank, the other by the person who made the deposit.

Time had passed. The bank staff were clearly not fools; they knew the voucher and authentication Wang Guan held might not be ancestral heirlooms. Even if they were, the fact that the key was lost provided ample opportunity for maneuvering. Losing a key necessitated filing a report for a replacement, opening up possibilities for them.

“No wonder they were so compliant; they were waiting for me here,” Wang Guan realized with a cold smile. “They’ve calculated their odds beautifully, but it’s destined to be a fool’s errand.”

“Others, maybe, but there’s no way they can fleece me…”

Just then, Wang Guan pulled out a set of keys—or rather, what he needed was the keyring. He straightened the metal loop, made a slight adjustment, and carefully inserted it into the safe's mechanism, exploring cautiously.

Click!

It didn't take long; the safe clicked open.

Seeing this, a smile flickered in Wang Guan’s eyes. He felt he should thank the bank for preserving this old-style safe to authentically recreate the atmosphere of that era. Had it been a modern fingerprint or passcode lock, he would have been completely helpless.

Regardless, the item was secured, and it was time to retreat gracefully.

Without further delay, Wang Guan pushed the door open and walked out confidently, under the shocked, bewildered, and utterly confused gaze of the manager, carrying whatever was inside the safe.

“So…?”

When Wang Guan emerged shortly after, the group immediately crowded around him.

Wang Guan smiled without speaking, but they could clearly see he was carrying a large chest, and judging by his labored movements, it was quite heavy.

“Let’s go back and talk,” Curator Wang announced. The others readily agreed, piled into the vehicle, and departed.

Not long after, the group returned to the hotel and gathered in Wang Guan’s room around the large chest, their speculations running wild.

“It’s so heavy; it must be gold, silver, or jewelry.”

“Antiques in prosperous times, gold in troubled times—the likelihood of gold and silver is quite high…”

Everyone hefted the chest, concluding that precious metals were the most probable contents.

A moment later, Curator Wang said with a laugh, “Stop guessing; we’ll know once we open it. As long as it isn't filled with bricks, Wang Guan has definitely profited.”

The others strongly agreed and urged Wang Guan to open the chest. However, the chest was also locked, and with everyone watching, Wang Guan felt it inappropriate to demonstrate his superior lock-picking skills. Instead, he simply pried it open.

The instant the broken lock clattered to the floor, every eye focused on the edge of the lid. If not for holding onto some semblance of decorum, they would have snatched it open immediately.

Wang Guan, for his part, had no intention of building suspense. He hadn't cheated this time, so he genuinely didn't know what was inside, and he was equally eager.

In a flash, Wang Guan gently flipped the lid open. A slightly stale scent drifted out, but the group paid it no mind, leaning in to examine the contents closely.

“Huh!”

After one look, they were all momentarily stunned, exchanging puzzled glances, their expressions decidedly strange.

“How could it be this sort of thing?” Wang Guan blinked, then looked again, confirming he hadn't misread the contents, his tone edged with disbelief.

“It’s… Mahjong tiles!” Pi Qiu’s mouth hung slightly agape; this was completely beyond anyone’s expectation.

They had speculated for ages, yet not a single person had guessed correctly. A large chest contained no gold, silver, jewelry, or rare paintings and calligraphy, but the so-called national essence—Mahjong tiles.

Seeing this, everyone was dumbfounded and skeptical.

“Wait a minute…”

Just then, Curator Wang’s eyes narrowed. He reached in, picked up a Mahjong tile, and examined it. His eyes suddenly lit up, filled with a mix of surprise and delight. “Could this set of Mahjong tiles be the legendary…”

(To be continued)