That evening, Fatty was counting money under the lamp, over and over again, yet he couldn't get the total right. It wasn't entirely his fault; even I was flustered the first time I saw such a sum.

Fatty finally gave up counting, lit a cigarette, and exhaled smoke before turning to me. "Lao Hu, what can I even say about you? You’re smart your whole life, but foolish for this one moment. How could you say this money was borrowed? Now we have to pay interest to that American dame. I say we just ditch this place, head back south to our hometown, and let her search forever, drive her crazy."

I retorted, "You’ve got no backbone. This little bit of cash is nothing. In the future, I’ll lead you to a few genuine artifacts, and we can swap them out easily—enough to cover her debt. What we lack right now is seed money. With funds, we won't have to worry about what to eat tomorrow. With a budget, we can buy better gear. Starting now, we patch things up, relaunch, and prepare properly. I’m going to pull off a major score."

After we conferred, we realized that the ancient tombs hidden deep in the mountains and forests weren't easy to find, and we had no idea when we might strike it lucky. Although this money was a lot, we were afraid of it running out before we could replenish our coffers.

Fatty, being the more business-minded one, thought Da Jinya’s antiques trade looked promising. Dealing in artifacts was definitely a field ripe with high profits, especially when selling to foreigners. However, the foreigners who frequented China these days were getting shrewder and harder to trick. Still, if we truly found something valuable, they wouldn't hesitate to spend big.

Fatty mused, "Lao Hu, what do you say we pool some investment and open a shop? Collect some antique ritual objects to sell. Maybe if we do well, we won't have to go tomb raiding anymore. Raiding brings fast cash, but damn it, it’s genuinely hard work."

I nodded. "That's a great idea, Fatty. Your mind is quite sharp. Now that we have capital, we can start small and use the time to learn some appraisal knowledge on the side."

So we began looking everywhere for a storefront, but nothing suitable turned up. Eventually, I figured, why bother looking for a shop? Let's just acquire some items and set up a stall at Panjiayuan first. The hallmark of Panjiayuan is its sheer variety—items large and small, ancient and modern, from home and abroad, everything imaginable. However, truly valuable ritual objects were rare; those were usually traded privately, seldom put out on public display.

Following Da Jinya’s initial guidance, we started by collecting smaller pieces in the suburbs—Qing Dynasty or earlier bowls, jars, old coins, snuff bottles, antique pocket watches, and similar small items—which we then bought at the antique markets.

Perhaps I simply wasn't fated for business in this life; my judgment was off. When collecting, I’d mistake worthless junk for treasures, and when I did acquire something valuable, I couldn't recognize it and sold it off as an ordinary item. We barely made any money, actually losing quite a bit overall.

However, the small things we acquired didn't cost much, so the losses weren't devastating. The main goal was to train our eyes and gain knowledge. After spending time at Panjiayuan, we realized the depth and complexity of this trade were immense, even more intricate than Feng Shui. It wasn't something one could master overnight.

It was getting close to noon one day, and the antique market seemed rather quiet, not many people around. Fatty, Da Jinya, and I were huddled together playing Pao De Kuai (a card game).

Just as the game was getting exciting, a man approached, stopping in front of our stall and wandering around without leaving. Fatty assumed he was a potential buyer and asked, "What’s up, mister? Looking for something?"

The man stammered, "Not looking at anything in particular. Do you buy antiques?"

I looked up to size him up. He looked about thirty-six or thirty-seven, with purplish-red skin, clearly someone who spent a lot of time working under the sun. He was dressed plainly, clutching a worn leather bag, and spoke with a thick accent from the loess plateau.

I wondered what antiques this fellow could possibly have. I exchanged a look with Da Jinya. Da Jinya was the expert; even though this local looked unremarkable and utterly unsophisticated, he didn't dare dismiss him. He gave me a subtle signal—keep him talking, find out what he wants first.

I pulled out cigarettes, offered one to the man, lit it for him, and invited him to sit.

The local clearly wasn't used to navigating such situations and didn't know how to socialize. He sat down on the small folding stool I offered, clutching his worn leather bag tightly, saying nothing.

I glanced at his shabby bag and wondered if this guy was a tomb raider, acting as if he had something to hide. Or perhaps the bag contained something genuinely valuable. I tried to keep my tone even and asked, "Brother, come, don't be shy. Have a smoke. This is Yunyan [a premium brand]. What should I call you?"

The local replied, "Call me Li Chunlai." Perhaps he wasn’t comfortable on the stool; he pushed it away and squatted on the ground. Once squatting, he seemed much more relaxed, and his smoking became smoother.

Da Jinya and Fatty pretended to continue their card game. That’s how this trade works; you don't want too many people present during negotiations. Firstly, it’s a rule, and secondly, too many eyes might scare off a client. People looking to sell antiques are usually nervous, fearing they might be targeted or robbed.

I took a drag of my cigarette and smiled gently. "So, your surname is Li. Seeing as you look older than me, I’ll call you brother, Brother Chunlai. You asked if we buy antiques—do you have a ritual object you’re looking to move?"

Li Chunlai looked confused. "What ritual object?"

I realized he was a novice, so I asked directly, "Do you have some kind of antique you want to sell? Can you let me take a look?"

Li Chunlai glanced left and right, then whispered, "I got a shoe. How much can you give me?"

I was instantly furious. Sell that old rag? No one would want it, they’d probably pay you to take it away! But then I paused, thinking it might not be that simple, and patiently asked, "What kind of shoe? Whose shoe?"

Seeing that I seemed friendly, Li Chunlai gathered a little courage and pulled a tiny gap in his leather bag, motioning for me to look inside. I craned my neck and saw an embroidered shoe, the kind worn by women with three-inch bound feet from ancient times, nestled in Li Chunlai's worn bag.

Before I could get a good look, Li Chunlai quickly zipped the bag shut, as if one more second of looking would make the shoe disappear.

I said, "Do you have to be like that? Let me see it properly; I haven't gotten a good look yet. Where did you get this shoe?"

Li Chunlai replied, "Boss, if you want it, just name a price. Don't ask about anything else."

I insisted, "Brother Chunlai, you have to let me hold it to inspect it. How can I quote a price if I can’t examine it clearly?" I lowered my voice further. "Are you worried about all these people watching? How about I treat you to a meal at that Chinese restaurant up front? They have mutton-filled dumplings with whole meatballs. I often discuss business there; it’s very quiet. If it turns out to be something truly good, we can negotiate a fair price. What do you say?"

When Li Chunlai heard about mutton-filled dumplings, he swallowed hard, drooling slightly. "That sounds great. Let's not stay out here baking in the sun. We can discuss everything after we've had some sour-soup dumplings."

(Next update time will be the same time, with a full, large chapter)