Chapter 1362 Antiques


    “What dream? Tell it to me.” Abel’s voice sounded somewhat nervous.


    “I dreamt that I was beneath a deep cliff, unable to find you, and when I called you, the call wouldn’t go


    through.”


    Abel fell silent for a moment before asking, “What does that mean?”


    “How should I know?” Emmeline said: “But, Abel, does it mean that one day, I won’t be able to find


    you?”


    “That won’t happen, Emma. I’m here, and I’ll always be here.”


    Emmeline only had one lesson the following day, so she took half a day off and boarded the bus to the


    city.


    Paul’s words had been lingering in her mind. She pondered that starting a clothing business might be


    good idea.


    She went to the department store and explored a newly establishedmercial pedestrian street.


    The city’s department store had once been so magnificent, but now it was deste and quiet, and the


    once haughty salespeople were now gathered in small groups, snacking and chatting.


    In their conversations, she could tell they were discussing the topic of employees voluntarily renting


    stalls and starting their own businesses.


    On the pirs at the department store’s entrance were advertisements for external renting.


    Emmeline checked it twice; the contact person was surnamed Chester, and she noted down the phone


    number.


    On both sides of the pedestrian street, shops lined up in a row. Clothing, shoes, bags, cosmetics-all


    kinds of businesses were thriving.


    Emmeline walked and observed, entering a few clothing stores, pretending to haggle, and studying the


    market conditions.


    After half a day, she began to have some ideas in her mind..


    Further down the pedestrian street, the crowd was bustling, and traffic was congested. It was the city’s


    long-distance bus station. Arge group of people had gathered at the corner of the intersection, and it


    seemed like they were in the midst of a fight, with shouts and arguments emanating from the crowd.


    “Just smash it! Can’t believe he’s trying to scam people!


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    “Smash it!”


    “Pay up! If you don’t pay, we’ll smash it to pieces!”


    “Sir, we discussed this face-to-face that day. I’ve collected these antiques from antique markets all over


    the country. Whether they’re real or fake, I don’t even know rasped an elderly man.


    “Scam is scam! Stop making excuses!”


    “Sir, I’m not trying to scam anyone. It’s broad daylight we should speak with a clear conscience. I can’t


    authenticate whether these antiques are real or fake. We’re doing a cash-on-delivery deal. If I sell it at


    a loss, I’ll admit it, and if you buy it at a loss, you should admit it too. Moreover, if you can buy a


    genuine antique for sixty bucks andter sell it for 1.8 million, would youe back to give me my


    money? That’s how the market works. One is willing to buy, and the other is willing to sell. You should


    understand that.”


    “Get lost! I don’t understand; all I know is I paid sixty bucks and bought two y jars! They say you can


    get them for three bucks each in the wholesale market, and you’re selling them for sixty! iming


    they’re from the Early Modern Period, what a load of nonsense!”


    “Smash it! Beat him!”


    Crash, bang, tter!


    A series of tes, bowls, dishes, and jars breaking, apanied by the hoarse cries of an elderly


    man, echoed under the scorching sun.


    After the frenzied smashing and beating, the instigators quickly dispersed, leaving only a few onlookers


    scattered around. The elderly man selling antiques sat on the ground, sobbing pitifully, his face and


    arms. scraped.


    Most of the exquisite items on the tarp were now damaged. It was a heart-wrenching scene, and the


    crowd sighed in sympathy.


    “How much are these things worth?” a middle-aged man crouched down, examining the fragments of


    porcin and pottery.


    “It’s hard to say. The cost was around two to three thousand, but whether they’re valuable or not, who


    knows if there are real antiques among them? I’m rtively new to this industry, with little experience


    and poor appraisal skills. Just trying to make a living.”


    “This industry is booming in the south now. People like you, who quietly scavenge for treasures, can


    be hidden millionaires.”


    “It’s not that easy. I’ve invested my life savings in this. I have to beg for food to go back home,” the old


    man cried again.


    The middle-aged man took out several hundred bills from his wallet and handed them to the old man.


    “I work at the department store at the other end of the street. Chester. If you need help,e find me.”


    The old man got up and nodded vigorously, then hurriedly picked up a few copper coins from the


    scattered fragments and handed them to him. “I don’t have much else, but here, consider it a token of


    appreciation and a keepsake.”


    The man epted the copper coins, smiled, and nodded. “Alright, I’ll keep it as a keepsake.”