The Favored Heiress
Chapter 557: Are You Sick?

Chapter 557: Chapter 557: Are You Sick?

Song Liao sat with a wooden expression, pressing down on the brim of his hat, "It should be."

Li Qiao raised her eyebrows, "Should be?"

She intuited there was more to the story, but the police station was obviously not a good place to discuss matters.

Li Qiao gave Xiao Wang a nod, then left the police station with Song Lao Liu, who had "the tiger falls to the plain su."

...

Twenty minutes later, Li Qiao was sitting with Song Liao in a duplex apartment at River View Grand Court.

This was Li Shaoquan’s residence, and ever since he had been sent back to his second uncle’s home by Li Qiao, the apartment had been vacant.

The living room was permeated with a slight smell of accumulated dust. Li Qiao opened the window and turned back to ask, "All your documents were in your wallet?"

Song Liao took off his hat, revealing a buzz cut that, paired with his square face, made him look increasingly simple and honest, "No, my wallet and document holder were put together. He took both of them."

Li Qiao walked over to him, her slender right leg resting on the coffee table, her arm bracing her knee as she leaned forward to size up Song Liao, "A few years have gone by, you’ve gotten rusty."

Song Liao instinctively wanted to retort, but thinking of his predicament, he pursed his lips and said nothing.

God, it was embarrassing.

Seeing his frustrated expression, Li Qiao couldn’t help but laugh. She tilted her chin up, "Come on, tell me, what exactly is going on with Mo Jue?"

She rarely paid attention to the whereabouts of international criminals, and hadn’t even heard the name Mo Jue before.

But for someone to lift something off Song Lao Liu, they must have some skills.

Song Liao looked up at Li Qiao and said without hesitation, "I’ve never seen Mo Jue."

Seeing her skeptical squint, Song Lao Liu continued, "To be precise, no one has seen Mo Jue. Although Interpol has labeled him as a habitual thief, but... after he steals something, he always sends it back."

Is this person crazy?

Possibly sensing Li Qiao’s thought, Song Liao objectively commented, "Even so, his act of theft is indeed established."

"What has he stolen?"

Song Liao spread out his fingers and began to count one by one, "Only seven pieces of jewelry, the rest are all famous paintings."

Li Qiao: "..."

Then, Song Liao laid out everything related to Mo Jue.

Mo Jue, seen by Interpol as a habitual criminal, while also being regarded by collectors as a living bodhisattva.

He did steal, but he had principles. After every theft, it took a maximum of one month or at least three days before he sent back the items untouched.

As for jewelry, he seemed less interested. Every time he took it, it would be returned without fail within three days.

Once, he even left a note behind, complaining about how terrible the cutting technology of a world-class diamond was.

And the more he did this, the more Interpol hated him.

He was silent during the thefts and equally unnoticed upon returning them, driving everyone crazy.

No matter the place, even the most highly secured international museums, he could come and go as he pleased.

Yet he was impossible to deal with, including surveillance footage which failed to capture any trace of him.

Later, after years of tracking, Interpol discovered a pattern.

Every painting that Mo Jue stole would have an incredibly realistic forgery appear on the market within three months.

From the painting technique to the mounting craftsmanship, they were nearly indistinguishable from the originals.

As a result, these forgeries were also treated as treasures by collectors.

After all, Mo Jue only steals extremely valuable unique items, items that even modern painters would struggle to replicate with the same level of authenticity.

Song Liao even suspected that after Mo Jue stole the paintings, he might have used technological means to make copies.

Having said that, Song Lao Liu covered his face with both hands and rubbed it, "This Mo Jue has caused quite the headache for major museums and some collectors. Even though they know he’ll return the items, he’s disturbed public order and muddled the art market."

At this point, Li Qiao had been silent for quite a while. She straightened her legs, stood up, and paced back and forth. She seemed... to have missed some critical detail.

What was it?

Li Qiao, touching her chin and casting her eyes towards the stairway to the loft, thought for a moment and then walked over, "Follow me."

Song Liao, clueless, quietly followed her upstairs.

Stopping in front of a study door, he looked at it for a few moments and then said firmly, "Kiddo, shall I help you clean up the room?"

It was too dirty.

The ashtray on the desk was overflowing, cigarette ashes were scattered everywhere, and on the sofa were two... well, men’s boxer briefs.

Li Qiao glanced at him and went straight to the computer, sat down, and booted it up, "You’ll stay here at South Sea for now, I’ll get the cleaning service to come and clean up."

Song Liao was not the talkative type. He glanced at the men’s boxer briefs again, and with a stern face, nodded, "Oh, okay."

Li Qiao logged into the system at the computer, and in no time, she had hacked into the airport’s exit surveillance, "Were you at gate six at the airport?"

"Yes, there was a flower bed nearby, and eight meters away, there was a smoking area."

Li Qiao rewound the surveillance footage to two hours earlier and beckoned Song Liao with a finger. Three minute later, Song Liao’s figure entered the surveillance area.

"Is Mo Jue male or female?" Li Qiao, without blinking, asked casually while watching the computer screen.

Then, she heard the simpleton Song Lao Liu respond with great righteousness, "Don’t know."

Li Qiao gave him a cold look without any expression, and Song Liao repeated seriously, "Really don’t know, no one knows."

A habitual offender named Mo Jue who loves to steal famous paintings... quite interesting.

Before long, in the surveillance footage, Song Lao Liu took out his phone and began to make a call, and it was at this moment that a tour group passed behind him, creating a lot of movement and shadows. Even Li Qiao didn’t notice anything unusual.

If it was really Mo Jue who had taken Song Lao Liu’s belongings, then it could indeed be described as ’divine ignorance, ghostly unawareness’.

After a while, Li Qiao looked at Song Liao obliquely, "You’ve come to the mainland this time to cooperate with Longhuai police in investigating the theft of the Su Embroidery Thangka?"

Song Lao Liu pursed his lips, "The Su Embroidery Thangka was returned last night."

"Returned?" Li Qiao was also surprised.

Is Mo Jue sick?

Not just sick, but extremely irritating.

The police probably are still deploying their efforts in tracking him down, and now the stolen item is returned to its owner, meaning all their arrangements were in vain.

Song Liao, with a grave face, sighed, "Not just returned, there was also a note with it."

Li Qiao raised her eyebrows, waiting for his answer.

Song Lao Liu touched his cheek with his tongue and revealed the content of the note: What a piece of crap.

Li Qiao closed her eyes, rested her forehead on her hand, and couldn’t help but smile.

Mo Jue, truly an eccentric.

It wasn’t long before an outrageous idea popped into Li Qiao’s mind.

She looked at Song Liao, sizing him up, "You haven’t met Mo Jue, so why would he steal your wallet?"

Song Liao’s brain seemed to start functioning again, and after some deliberation, he concluded, "Kiddo, are you suspecting that he knows my identity?"