Standing before the stall was a girl of about eighteen or nineteen, whose appearance could only be described as ordinary; however, her figure was quite appealing. At that moment, she was gazing down at a string of star and moon bodhi beads in the glass cabinet, and it was the sight of her neckline that compelled the plump man to rush forward without hesitation.
"Miss, who is the miss?" Yet upon hearing the plump man's words, the girl became somewhat irritated. She lifted her head, pointed at him, and retorted, "You're the one who's a miss; your whole family is full of misses..."
"I... we only have my sister who can truly be called a miss..." The plump man was taken aback by her response. Although his family was quite large, aside from his mother and sister, none of the other members could be considered feminine.
"Pervert, lunatic..." Thinking that the plump man was teasing her, the girl's face flushed, and she quickly turned and ran away.
"How am I a pervert? How am I a lunatic?" The plump man looked somewhat dazed, turning to Fang Yi and San Pao, and asked, "Guys, did I say something wrong?"
"You didn't say anything wrong..." Fang Yi and San Pao both shook their heads, equally puzzled by what had just transpired.
"Could it be that your expression was too lewd?" San Pao couldn't help but add, recalling how the plump man had indeed looked a bit lascivious just moments ago.
"Get lost; I was quite noble while speaking just now!" The plump man protested, feeling that San Pao was tarnishing his reputation.
"Little fatty, you truly crack me up..." Suddenly, the plump man heard a laugh from nearby. Turning his head, he saw Old Ma clutching his belly and laughing heartily.
"Brother Ma, what... what's going on?" The plump man was nearly on the verge of tears from his own frustration. He grabbed Old Ma and said, "Brother Ma, please enlighten me; I didn't even touch that girl with a single finger, how could I be a pervert?"
"Haha, fatty, your choice of words was inappropriate..." Recalling the earlier incident, Old Ma couldn't help but laugh again.
"What was wrong with my wording?" The plump man scratched his head, bewildered by Old Ma's comment.
"Of course it was wrong; you called that girl a miss..."
Seeing that the plump man genuinely didn't understand, Old Ma decided to explain, "Fatty, the term 'miss' was quite popular a few years ago. However, in recent years, those involved in prostitution have also been referred to as 'misses.' So when you called that girl 'miss,' weren't you essentially insulting her?"
In ancient times, one could ride a crane to Yangzhou with a fortune, but today, the term 'miss' had become synonymous with a certain ancient profession. Virtually no young girl would want to be addressed as 'miss.'
"Then... what should I call her? I can't just call her 'comrade,' can I?" After hearing Old Ma's explanation, the plump man was slightly dumbfounded. It was just a term of address, yet the city folk had imbued it with such profound meaning, landing him in hot water for no reason.
"Fatty, when addressing a woman, regardless of her age, calling her 'sister' is always appropriate..." Old Ma chuckled as he offered advice.
"But what if I inadvertently call someone old?" The plump man sat down heavily on a chair behind him, a glum expression on his face as he lamented, "Yi Ge, San Pao, you two take over for a bit; I need to sort this out. It seems this terminology carries significant weight..."
"You little rascal, just admit you want to slack off..." San Pao looked down on the plump man's behavior, recalling how he had rushed forward when he saw the girl, only to retreat now.
"Young man, how much do you sell these small leaf rosewood beads for?"
Just as San Pao was bickering with the plump man, an elderly gentleman in his sixties approached the stall and spoke up: "This is old rosewood; the color is a bit dark. Show me what you have..."
"Sir, you truly have a discerning eye..." Fang Yi swiftly lifted the glass cover and replied, "To be honest, this bracelet is indeed made from old material; it has been set aside for several years. Look at the depth of color on this string I'm wearing..."
The old man was knowledgeable. Following Fang Yi's words, he glanced at the string on Fang Yi's hand, nodded, and said, "Hmm, indeed, the material of this string is older than the one you just presented..."
"Hehe, this string is for personal use. I apologize for not showcasing it well..." Fang Yi glanced down and felt a hint of confusion; both strings should have come from the same batch, yet he hadn't noticed the difference in color before.
"Young man, how much for this string?" The old man raised the small leaf rosewood string in his hand and inquired about the price.
"Sir, your string is indeed an old bead, originally priced at 220 yuan, but I'll let you have it for 200 yuan..."
Although Fang Yi had yet to fully grasp the intricate terminology associated with antiques, it didn't hinder him from using such terms to promote his sales. Seeing the old man nod slightly, Fang Yi felt a surge of joy, realizing he had spoken correctly.
"Young man, may I take a look at the string you're playing with?" The old man pointed to the beads that Fang Yi was rubbing with his left hand.
"Of course, sir..." Fang Yi was momentarily taken aback but handed over the beads.
"Are you willing to sell this string?"
After examining it, the old man displayed a look of satisfaction. However, having played with beads for many years, he understood that such items could carry sentimental value. Thus, even though Fang Yi was a seller, he asked another question.
"Ah? You want to buy this string?" Fang Yi was momentarily caught off guard. As a seller, if a customer was willing to buy, why would he refuse?
"You've played well with this string, and its material is indeed superior to the previous one..." Just as Fang Yi was about to respond affirmatively, the old man suddenly added, "Young man, if you're willing to sell, I can offer you 400 yuan. What do you think?"
"Ah? 400?" Fang Yi's eyes widened in disbelief. Both strings were similar, so why was the old man willing to pay double the price?
"I can only go as high as 500. If you're not selling, then so be it..."
Seeing Fang Yi's reaction, the old man assumed he was reluctant to sell and promptly raised the price by another hundred. Based on the old man's judgment, the beads had likely been played with for about ten years, developing a thick, lustrous patina. If he could buy them for 500, it would be quite a fortunate find.
"I... I didn't say anything..." Fang Yi felt somewhat speechless upon hearing the old man's words. He had merely asked a question, yet the old man had raised the price twice; it seemed that conducting business was not as complicated as he had thought.
"Young man, are you going to sell or not? Just give me an answer..."
Noticing Fang Yi's silence, the old man grew a bit impatient. San Pao, standing behind Fang Yi, quickly nudged him with his elbow, thinking it absurd that he wouldn't seize the first opportunity to make a sale.
"I'll sell it, sir, of course!" Fang Yi snapped out of his reverie and said, "Sir, let's go with your offered price. However, please note that once this is sold, we cannot accept returns or exchanges..."
Once the transaction is made, there are no returns; this was a principle that Man Jun had instilled in Fang Yi and his companions. It was important to remember that while cultural artifacts might not be antiques, their quality and the duration of their patina were critical aspects that required a discerning eye. It was not uncommon for someone to spend a lot of money on a less valuable item.
"Hmm? Then I must examine it carefully..." After hearing Fang Yi's words, the old man took out an old pair of reading glasses, putting them on to scrutinize the beads closely, muttering, "The patina is indeed correct, and the brown eyes are quite fine; it should be accurate..."
"Young man, I'll take it. Here's your payment..." After observing for a while, the old man slipped the beads onto his left wrist and pulled out a wallet, counting out 500 yuan to hand to Fang Yi.
As Fang Yi received the 500 yuan, he felt his heart race with excitement; this was his first earning in life, and of course, the 20,000 yuan from the car accident didn't count.
"Hey, sir, would you like a box to store it in?" Shaking his head to regain his composure, Fang Yi asked the old man.
"No need; these beads are meant to be played with. Why put them in a box?" The old man raised his left hand and lowered his head to continue browsing Fang Yi's stall, yet this time, he found nothing else of interest.
"Sir, take care; if you need anything else, feel free to return..." After warmly seeing the old man off, Fang Yi turned back, laughing heartily, and said, "Fatty, are you convinced? Our first sale was made by me, the Daoist!"
While in the hospital, the plump man had boasted about Fang Yi's potential in the antique business, elevating himself to the status of a business prodigy like Bill Gates. Yet after several hours of manning the stall, it was Fang Yi who made the first sale, which made even the usually composed Fang Yi feel a surge of pride.
"Spiritual master, how on earth did you manage that? Did you cast some sort of spell on that old man?"
Both the plump man and San Pao stared at Fang Yi in disbelief, still processing the situation even after the old man had left. They had only ever felt that items were overpriced; they had never encountered a buyer who willingly raised the price.
"I... I don't know..."
The plump man's words jolted Fang Yi back to reality; indeed, something felt off. His initial asking price had been 200 yuan, yet the old man had opted not to take the beads Fang Yi had offered but instead bought the beads he had been playing with for 500 yuan. Could it be that these two strings had some hidden differences?
"Brother Ma, do you have any idea what just happened?"
Fang Yi glanced over at Old Ma, whose stall was barely a meter away. Old Ma had been watching closely during the transaction with the old man.
"I know that old man; he's quite shrewd and never buys recklessly..."
After hearing Fang Yi's words, Old Ma shook his head with a hint of regret and said, "You young lads, when selling beads, you didn't categorize them. Can beads with an aged patina be mixed with ordinary ones? If I'm not mistaken, that string of beads you showed him should be worth around 1,500 yuan..."
What? That string of beads is worth fifteen hundred yuan?" Upon hearing Old Ma's words, Fang Yi and the others were momentarily stunned. They had initially thought the old man was the one at a disadvantage, only to realize that they were the ones who had lost out.
"If I'm not mistaken, it should be..." Old Ma nodded earnestly. As a veteran in the antique market, he had a keen eye, even if he didn't frequently engage in the sale of cultural artifacts. The patina on that string of beads was far more substantial than the one Fang Yi had taken from the glass cabinet.
"Oh dear, we may have truly underpriced it..." The plump man smacked his thigh, a look of regret crossing his face. What they had thought would be a fortuitous first sale had turned into a missed opportunity.
"Why didn't Man Jun inform us?" Fang Yi shook his head. While Man Jun had meticulously detailed the approximate values of the items in the shop, Fang Yi distinctly remembered that he hadn't mentioned this particular string of beads.
"Perhaps Old Man Man also misjudged it..." Old Ma chuckled and remarked, "That old gentleman just now, surnamed Zhao, is a retired professor from the Academy of Fine Arts. His discerning eye is quite sharp. In the future, when he buys items, be more vigilant. Don't fret over such small losses; it's not uncommon for someone to spend over two hundred yuan on something worth hundreds of thousands..."
In the year 2000, the antique market was rife with various fakes and forgeries, yet a few genuine items still managed to mingle among them. However, unearthing these rare treasures amidst such a vast market was no simple feat.
Of course, exceptions did occur. Just last year, a renowned collector in Jinling stumbled upon a weathered, muddy, and incomplete inkstone at a stall for a mere two hundred eighty yuan.
Upon cleaning it at home, he discovered it was, in fact, an ancient Chengni inkstone from the Song Dynasty, complete with inscriptions. When he took it to the capital for expert evaluation, the results sent shockwaves throughout the antique community.
No one anticipated that, after thorough examination, this seemingly flawed inkstone was, in fact, crafted by the famous Su Dongpo during the Song Dynasty, and it had been his personal inkstone for many years, boasting immense archaeological and collectible value.
An appraisal suggested that even without auctioning it, the market value of this Dongpo Chengni inkstone would exceed three hundred thousand yuan. The collector had effectively acquired a treasure worth one thousand times the two hundred eighty yuan he had spent—truly a monumental stroke of luck.
This incident propelled the Jinling antique market into nationwide prominence, attracting numerous collectors from across the country, all hoping to uncover their own hidden gems. Many genuine artifacts were indeed found, yet none could rival the magnitude of that particular discovery.
"Oh dear, didn't the person who sold that inkstone for two hundred eighty yuan end up regretting it immensely?"
Listening to Old Ma recount this story, the plump man's previous discontent over their own underpricing faded considerably. Compared to that unfortunate soul, Fang Yi's sale of the beads paled in significance.
Old Ma sighed as he spoke, revealing that he too had once been on the losing end of a deal. He shook his head with a wry smile and said, "Little Fang, remember, those who thrive in the antique world possess a discerning eye. There's no room for luck in this line of work. Truth be told, I've faced my own share of losses..."
Last year, Old Ma had acquired a batch of bronze mirrors, immediately recognizing that they were all modern forgeries. The copper patina was most likely artificially aged, and he had purchased them at a reasonable price of fifty yuan each.
The following day, he displayed the mirrors at his stall, pricing them modestly at two hundred yuan each. Surprisingly, despite being fakes, the mirrors were in decent condition and easily persuaded buyers, so within just two or three days, Old Ma had sold the entire batch.
What he didn't expect was that three days after selling the last mirror, a customer returned, inquiring if he still had any of the bronze mirrors left, expressing an eagerness to buy them all.
Curious about the urgency, Old Ma asked why the customer wanted more mirrors. Upon hearing the full story, he regretted not having known sooner, as it left him feeling quite disheartened.
The customer, after bringing home a mirror, had found the copper patina unsightly and proceeded to clean it with a whetstone and sandpaper, removing all the tarnish. To his astonishment, he discovered it was indeed a genuine bronze mirror, intricately engraved with the twelve zodiac signs—craftsmanship that was certainly not characteristic of modern forgeries.
This collector had some connections and quickly sought the expertise of a specialist at the Jinling Museum. After evaluation, they confirmed it was a Han Dynasty bronze mirror, with a market value ranging from fifteen thousand to thirty thousand yuan.
In the world of antiques, secrets are scarce, and news of this fortunate find spread rapidly. Old Ma became the subject of much amusement among his peers, and even years later, while drinking with fellow vendors, the story would often resurface.
"The depths of this industry are unfathomably profound..."
As Old Ma shared his misadventures, Fang Yi, the plump man, and San Pao exchanged glances, finally realizing that if they truly wished to navigate the antique world, they needed to acquire relevant knowledge; otherwise, they might fall victim to deception without even realizing it.
"Brother Ma, could you help us assess whether there's anything valuable left in this cabinet?" The plump man eagerly ushered Old Ma to his stall, acknowledging that Old Ma's expertise was undoubtedly superior to theirs.
"Nothing of value remains; it's all quite ordinary..."
Old Ma's gaze swept across the cabinet, noting that while the beads Fang Yi sold had some age and showed signs of oxidation, they had likely been neglected for too long, resulting in their lackluster appearance and diminished worth.
"Strange, Old Man Man is usually quite astute; how did he overlook that string of beads?" Upon returning to his stall, Old Ma couldn't help but mutter.
Having been in the market for years, Old Ma had started alongside Man Jun, but while Man Jun had since established himself as a shop owner, Old Ma remained a vendor. Besides interpersonal skills, Old Ma's insight and acumen were not on par with Man Jun's.
"Plump man, San Pao, I think we don't all need to be stationed here at the stall..."
After hearing Old Ma's anecdotes about the antique market and missed opportunities, Fang Yi considered it and suggested, "Sitting at the stall won't teach us much. I propose we take turns, leaving only one person at the stall while the other two explore the market. Observing more and speaking less will help us learn."
"Little Fang, that's the right approach; it will help you integrate into this industry more swiftly..." Upon hearing Fang Yi's plan, Old Ma's eyes reflected a complex emotion.
Old Ma knew well that Man Jun had succeeded by doing just that—handing over his stall to someone else and wandering around the market, relentlessly seeking knowledge. Many had criticized Man Jun for being unfocused, yet after six months, people began to realize that he could trade just as adeptly as those who had been in the business for over a decade, displaying remarkable boldness and decisiveness.
Some said Man Jun was simply lucky, while others attributed it to his daring nature. However, Old Ma recognized another truth: Man Jun's success was no accident; he possessed an innate sensitivity and intuition for the trade, knowing precisely where to find opportunities. Now, Old Ma saw that same quality in Fang Yi.
"Fang Yi, you keep watch here; San Pao and I will go explore," the plump man, unable to remain still, jumped up at Fang Yi's suggestion.
However, just as he stood, he plopped back down, a sycophantic smile spreading across his face as he asked, "Excuse me, miss, what would you like to buy?"
"Miss? Do I look that old?" A youthful, melodious voice chimed in.
"Not old at all! You look several years younger than me..." The plump man nearly burst into tears at the questioning tone. After being chastised for calling her 'miss,' he had now switched to 'big sister,' yet the girl standing by his stall was still displeased.
"Plump man, let me handle this..." Seeing the plump man falter, Fang Yi shook his head, pulling him back into his seat. His gaze then fell upon the girl before him, and he couldn't help but be captivated.
Despite having spent years on the mountain and encountering either young children or older women, Fang Yi's appreciation for beauty remained intact. The girl before him was undeniably stunning.
She appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen, standing approximately five foot seven, clad in cropped denim jeans and a simple white T-shirt that perfectly accentuated her figure. The elegance of her silhouette rivaled that of the stars he had seen in magazines.
As he looked up, he noticed her skin was flawless, luminous as jade, and her eyes sparkled like clear water, exuding a refined and graceful aura. Even the plump man, known for his audacity, found himself awkwardly averting his gaze after a brief moment of eye contact with her.
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