Chapter 18: Calling the Police

Having lived a second life, Lin Sicheng believed that even if Mount Tai were to collapse before him, he could remain unmoved.

Unless, of course, Mount Tai were to fall directly onto his head.

Just like now.

"Let go!"

His cold shout startled the female assistant and the staff member. They reflexively released their grip, and the teapot landed in Lin Sicheng’s hands. With two sharp "clicks," he secured the porcelain pot into its padded case and slammed the lid shut.

His movements were so swift and fluid that the old man had no time to react.

"Lin Sicheng, what are you doing?" the elder asked, bewildered.

"It’s a double-fired piece. The glaze contains uranium!"

The old man’s eyes bulged. "Which uranium?"

"The uranium in yellow pigment!"

Lin Changqing shivered, staring blankly at Lin Sicheng. Uranium yellow was a pigment often used in wall paintings and antique ceramic restoration to replicate a "radioactive fluorescent" effect similar to glow-in-the-dark paint. It had been used before, and Lin Changqing knew exactly what it was. He also knew that whether mixed with blue or celadon pigments, it would turn green. That explained why the teapot had that greenish hue.

He was even more aware of its dangers—this was the stuff used to build nuclear bombs. Just imagine that!

"What about the dating equipment? Why didn't it detect it?"

Lin Sicheng gritted his teeth. "They added depleted uranium, and it’s currently in its half-life!"

In an instant, Lin Changqing’s face turned deathly pale. "Go!"

Lin Sicheng shook his head. "I stayed far enough away; I’m fine."

With the glaze providing a barrier, the harmful rays wouldn't penetrate more than ten centimeters. The harmful range of radioactive gases was also generally within twenty centimeters. He was indeed safe, but the old man had been holding that pot, staring at it for a full hour.

At the mere thought of it, Lin Sicheng wanted to kill those merchants on the spot.

"Go wash up quickly. Don't scrub too hard. You need to drink water—as much as possible—but absolutely do not induce vomiting!"

Lin Changqing, face dark, grabbed the mineral water from the table and ran. He understood the protocol: drink plenty of water to neutralize the contaminants absorbed by the body, and wash all exposed skin—face, neck, wrists—immediately.

After the old man left, Lin Sicheng grabbed his grandfather’s phone and fired off a text: *Xiao Gu, there’s a fraud case at the Municipal Cultural Relics Company involving millions... My grandfather and I are here, bring more people, hurry!*

He tossed the phone aside and picked up his own: *Gu Ming, find a way to contact the Department of Radiation Medicine at the Second Affiliated Hospital of Jiaotong University. My grandfather has uranium poisoning at the Municipal Cultural Relics Company. Send an ambulance... fast!*

The others were still in a daze. They didn't know which "uranium" Lin Sicheng was talking about, assuming he meant the glaze. They certainly had no idea what "double-fired" porcelain was.

President Bai stood up. "Xiao Lin, what’s going on?"

Lin Sicheng put away the phone. "The pot is a fake."

"How is that possible?" President Bai stared. "And where is Professor Lin? Why did he leave?"

"He didn't leave; he went to wash up. The glaze is toxic and highly radioactive!"

President Bai was stunned, and the others looked equally bewildered, save for the two merchants. When they heard the word "radiation," both men instinctively leaned back. It was a natural physical reaction to extreme shock and alarm.

The two exchanged a glance. One of them stood up immediately. "You say my antique is poisonous? Are you out of your mind?"

Hearing this, Lin Sicheng’s face turned livid. He hadn't been entirely sure before, but seeing their reaction and hearing the slip into their regional accent, he was one hundred percent certain.

*Damn you.*

"Xiao Lin, can this be true?" President Bai was skeptical. "It went through so many instruments and tests. If there were a problem, wouldn't it have been detected?"

"President Bai, instruments aren't omnipotent. If they were, every cultural relics expert would be out of a job. Why would we need eye-appraisal?"

"These bastards added uranium yellow to the glaze to accelerate carbon atom decay, which fools carbon-14 dating. But because uranium yellow is relatively stable and releases too little energy during decay, it can't fool thermoluminescence testing. So, they added highly active, long-half-life depleted uranium!"

"Do you know what depleted uranium is? It’s used for nuclear bombs... It releases radon and other decay products that enter the body through respiration, causing continuous, long-term energy release..."

Suddenly, Lin Sicheng recalled his grandfather holding the teapot for nearly an hour. It wasn't an exaggeration—he wanted to smash that fake Hong Konger’s face into a pulp.

He took a deep breath, struggling to control his rage. *I’ve lived two lifetimes; I must be steady, I must be calm.*

*A gentleman does not stand under a crumbling wall... exhale, exhale.*

President Bai’s mouth hung open, at a loss. Even if he didn't understand the science, he knew what uranium was, and he knew what radioactive materials and long-term energy release meant.

But he didn't believe it. Even if Professor Lin himself had said it, he wouldn't have believed it: it was just an antique, how could it be related to an atomic bomb?

The merchant acted like a startled cat, jumping up. "Kid, are you crazy? You think this is a movie? We took a plane, went through security—how could they not detect poison?"

*Detect, my ass.*

Last year, spies smuggled two kilograms of enriched uranium, hidden in a suitcase, right through Russian customs and into Georgia. And those two countries were in a pre-war state, with extremely high tensions and tight security. Why wasn't it detected?

Because, at this stage, the relevant detection equipment wasn't widely available.

The assistant stood up and grabbed the case. "President Bai, you have no sincerity. We’re not doing this deal!"

"You think you can just walk away?"

Lin Sicheng pointed a finger. "I’ve already called the police. They’ll be here any second!"

Upon hearing "police," the two men froze, stunned and suspicious. Then, they suddenly bolted for the door.

*You want to run? Try it.*

Lin Sicheng stepped across and blocked the aisle. The two exchanged a look; the merchant lunged to the side, and the assistant swung the heavy case at Lin Sicheng.

Having waited this long, how could Lin Sicheng not be prepared?

He grabbed the square stool from beside the sofa—the kind meant for translators or secretaries, small but heavy. Ducking low to avoid the case, he swung with all his might.

*Bang!* The assistant’s head collided with the stool. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed without even a scream.

The merchant had already run seven or eight meters and had his hand on the doorknob.

*Thud!* A loud crash sounded as the stool hit the door panel. The merchant ducked his head in terror. Just as he pulled the door open, a figure appeared in the reflection, as if flying through the air.

The merchant felt as if he had been hit by a train.

Kicked to the ground, Lin Sicheng mounted him, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched, throwing punch after punch.

*Thud!* To hell with staying calm.

*Thud!* To hell with being composed.

*Thud!* To hell with inner peace.

I’ve lived two lives; am I supposed to take this abuse?

The people in the reception room were left dumbstruck. Every time he landed a punch, the merchant let out a piercing shriek like a butchered pig. The assistant lay in the aisle, eyes shut, motionless. Blood seeped from his hair into the carpet. The case had fallen nearby; it hadn't popped open, but it had left a deep dent in the floor.

President Bai recalled the scene: Lin Sicheng blocking the aisle, the assistant swinging the case... The contents were worth millions; how did he dare?

In an instant, President Bai’s face turned ghostly white, his voice trembling. "Call the police!"