The Favored Heiress
Chapter 562: He’s Mo Jue’s Boss?

Chapter 562: Chapter 562: He’s Mo Jue’s Boss?

Xia Siyu passed the computer to Li Qiao, and immediately, several people gathered around.

Song Liao watched her fingers fly over the keyboard and, amazed, pursed his lips and nodded, "Qiaoqiao is really awesome."

Shen Qingye stared at Song Lao Liu with an expression that said it all, "Did you get into the International Criminal Police Organization by flattery?"

Song Liao looked at him earnestly, "You try flattering and see."

Shen Qingye stopped talking.

In less than three minutes, Li Qiao counterattacked the other’s surveillance locking system, and as the split-screen image reappeared on the computer, everyone finally caught a glimpse of the androgynous figure moving around in the exhibition hall.

But after just ten seconds, it seemed like the other side sensed something; they pressed against the wall, lowered their head, and pressed a small device in their hand, soon after which the surveillance went dark.

"Hiss... That’s Mo Jue!"

Song Lao Liu was still staring at the black screen of the computer, his square shaped face filled with excitement.

After searching for so long, they’d finally seen the person in the flesh.

However...

Xia Siyu leaned on the back of the rear seat, looking at the dark screen of the computer, she patted Li Qiao’s head, "What happened?"

Li Qiao continued to type on the keyboard, the smile deepening at the edge of her lips, "He planted a Trojan; the computer in the surveillance room is infected."

Shen Qingye also came over with his hand on his chest, "This advanced?"

At this moment, Song Lao Liu’s expression grew more and more peculiar; this was his first time witnessing Mo Jue committing a crime with his own eyes.

But why does this method seem so familiar?

Monitor locking, firewall implantation, counterattacking the Trojan...

On the other side, the figure still walking in the exhibition hall stood by the wall for a while, their deep-set eyes looking at the surveillance camera, arch an eyebrow, their face full of pride.

After waiting for a moment and thinking everything was secure, they took out their phone and started randomly snapping photos of the framed masterpieces in the display cases, and at the end, they held up the earpiece and asked, "Boss, boss, do you like any?"

"..."

The voice of Mo Jue was quite distinctive, both light and slow like a woman’s and mixed with the cheerful tone of a man’s.

It’s unknown what the person on the other end of the phone said, he pouted and lowered his head, "Oh, you don’t like any of them."

"..."

"Alright then, I’ll go find something else for the boss."

"..."

"Hey, don’t worry about it, when have I ever messed up?"

After hanging up, he took another round through the exhibition hall, and before leaving, he placed one hand on his hip and looked back with a sneer, "The boss is right, what trash."

In his heart, anything the boss didn’t like was trash.

The man, Mo Jue.

About five minutes after he left the exhibition hall as clean as a whistle, the surveillance virus self-destructed, and the image was restored to normal.

And the South Sea Police Station personnel hiding at all the major entrances and exits had not seen anyone enter from the beginning to the end, nor had they seen anyone come out—not even a fly.

...

Two o’clock in the morning, at Elegant Villa Garden.

The apartments here feature a design of one elevator for each household, with rigorous security measures and excellent privacy.

Like before, a figure with the scent of dust appeared in the central air conditioning duct, the surveillance footage having already been altered by him in advance.

Inside an apartment on the thirty-seventh floor, a ventilation grille for the central air conditioning was unscrewed, followed by someone leaping down.

The room was dim, and the curtains were tightly drawn. This was Li Qiao’s collection apartment.

Mo Jue didn’t turn on the light but began to shuttle back and forth among the rows of collection display cases with night vision goggles.

In the blink of an eye, he saw a classically mounted masterpiece on a square table.

He touched it with his hand, took a look at the comparison picture on his phone, then took out a black bag from his backpack, placed the framed painting inside, and as the air was squeezed out, the black bag gradually fit snugly and was carried on his back like a portable sketchboard.

A moment later, Mo Jue, without looking at any other collectibles, jumped up from the ground, clutching the air vent, his waist and abdomen exerting force, and quickly climbed back in.

After covering the grille, he quickly crawled through the central air conditioning duct, reaching the facility duct room in just seven or eight minutes.

Soon after, Mo Jue crawled out of the duct, his body covered with dust.

He pinched his nose, went back to the ground level, and reinstalled the aluminum alloy grille at the end of the duct, then pulled over the cleaning trolley he had prepared earlier, took off his backpack and the framed painting, and dumped them inside the trolley in one go.

He then put on a grayish white wig, stuck on a small mustache, and slipped into a cleaning outfit before pushing the cart out of the duct room.

Everything went smoothly, with almost no challenge at all.

Mo Jue, pushing the cart with one hand, muttered to himself as he walked, "So many collectibles, yet not a single configured infrared, not even an alarm, that’s way too careless."

As he finished speaking, someone suddenly spoke up from behind, "Falling into one’s own trap."

Mo Jue scratched the wig, "Oh, is that so?"

Uh?

He instantly stood alert, and as he turned around, he saw a slender figure leaning against the wall behind him, one knee bent and pressed against the wall, looking at him with a somewhat mocking smile.

Mo Jue realized something was wrong, pushed the cart, and planned to run, but four figures slowly appeared in the corridor ahead.

"Mo Jue, nice to meet you," Song Liao strode forward to meet him head-on.

Mo Jue narrowed his eyes, reached into the cleaning cart for some items, then kicked the cart away, "I’d rather not be meeting you."

He ran forward with swift movements, but two fists were no match for four hands, not to mention all of the Border Five Sons were here waiting for him, lying in ambush.

...

Ten minutes later, inside the apartment building of Elegant Villa Garden, Mo Jue stood motionless, clutching the newly acquired painting, with his wig drooping to one side, and the fake beard hanging off his mouth, his eyes brimming with tears.

Inside the room, Xia Siyu approached and removed the fake beard from Mo Jue’s face.

Under the bright lights, for the first time, they could clearly see Mo Jue’s face.

With messy short hair and delicate facial features, he appeared to be around twenty, giving off the impression of a handsome young man at first sight.

What was most striking on his face were those eyes, dark and almond-shaped, which were vivid and clear as they moved.

While the others were still marveling at his good looks, only Li Qiao silently sized her up.

In a matter of seconds, from her gaze to her posture, a playful surprise appeared in Li Qiao’s eyes.

A handsome young man, indeed?!

At that moment, Song Liao, finally coming to terms with the fact that he was Mo Jue, said in a lowered, chilling voice, "Mo Jue, where is my wallet?"

Mo Jue blinked his eyes, feigning ignorance, "I don’t understand what you’re talking about."

Song Lao Liu stepped closer, serious-faced and with piercing eyes, "Stop playing dumb; you know exactly what you’ve stolen."

Mo Jue took a step back, holding the painting tighter, "What did I steal?"

"The seven unique paintings from Muda Palace, the thirty-two collections from the British Imperial Museum, the eleven portrait paintings from the United Museum..."

Mo Jue retreated step by step until he bumped into the display stand behind him. He stumbled a bit, stubbornly interrupting, "Any evidence? Where are those paintings then?"

Song Lao Liu stood still, lips pursed, without uttering a word.

Where are the paintings? They are all bloody sealed away by the various museums.

Indeed, they’re not in Mo Jue’s possession.

Damn it.

At that time, Li Qiao watched Mo Jue intently. After a moment, she took out her phone and made a call, completely ignoring everyone else.

"In South Sea?"

"..."

Li Qiao instructed with a cold smirk, "Come to Elegant Villa Garden Apartment, 37th floor."

After hanging up the phone, Su Moshi tilted his head to look at her, "Who was it?"

Li Qiao’s expression was faint as she fiddled with her phone; her words were cryptic, "You’ll find out soon."

After that, no matter what everyone else asked, Mo Jue kept silent, clearly unwilling to cooperate, consumed by thoughts of how to escape.

Having been a silent thief for so long, this was the first time he had been caught red-handed.

What should I do, will the boss still want me?

"Lao Liu, call the police station and tell them to pull back," Li Qiao suddenly said, standing by the windowsill.

Without overthinking it, Song Liao obliged, walking to the corner of the room to inform the task force at the police station of Mo Jue’s arrest.

There seemed to be some confusion on the other end; Song Lao Liu patiently explained further, "If he hasn’t taken anything from the exhibit, catching him on the spot still won’t be enough evidence. We’ve caught him red-handed here at Elegant Villa Garden. Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll come to the police station in person to express my gratitude tomorrow."

...

Twenty minutes later, there was a series of urgent knocks on the door.

Song Liao, who was closest to the door, glanced at Li Qiao and, seeing her nod, stepped forward to open it.

A breeze came in, carrying a hint of moisture; the visitor’s hair hung limply over their forehead.

However, that did not stop Song Liao from recognizing him, "Mr. Li, what brings you here?"

Li Yan: "..."

His voice suddenly faltered, and just as he was about to apologize for knocking on the wrong door, a loud cry came from behind Song Liao, "Boss, save me—"

Everyone present: "???"

Li Qiao lowered her gaze, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

The most flabbergasted person was, undoubtedly, Song Liao.

When Li Yan walked in wearing a flamboyant pink suit, Mo Jue rushed to him like a savior, holding out the painting nestled in his arms as if offering a treasure, "Boss, Ti Xiang’s painting."

The painting my foot!

Li Yan looked guiltily at Li Qiao, pushing Mo Jue away as his adam’s apple bobbed, "Qiao, Qiaoqiao, let your second brother explain."

The bewildered Song Liao rigidly closed the door behind him, feeling as if his world-view had been utterly shattered.

Why had Li Yan become Mo Jue’s boss?

It was only at this moment that he suddenly realized why the method Mo Jue used to operate the surveillance cameras tonight felt so familiar.

Because the International Criminal Police Organization had also used this method of misdirection in missions before.

And it was... taught to them by Li Yan a long time ago.

It seems he had passed on the tricks of the trade to the International Criminal Police Organization.

At the moment, Li Qiao leaned against the windowsill, her gaze shifting between Song Liao and Li Er, "Do you two know each other?"

Song Liao nodded mechanically, " I’ve run into Mr. Li a couple of times while tracking Mo Jue’s whereabouts at various museums and exhibitions abroad; once is happenstance, twice is acquaintance. Kid, he’s... your second brother?"

Li Qiao’s lips curled down slightly, her tone icy, "Yeah, my second brother."

Li Yan felt like kneeling; he brushed his limp hair from his forehead and moved closer to her, "Baby, your second brother made a mistake."

"What mistake?" Li Qiao asked, staring sidelong at him with a drawn-out cadence.

Li Yan licked his lips, pointing at Mo Jue, "I shouldn’t have picked him up."