The Pawnshop: The Legend of Gu'er

The street trade in the old city has as many fine, distinct layers as the stitching on a cloth-soled shoe, with its own rules rooted in the wisdom of survival. The most valuable wares are antiques and paintings, wrapped in sandalwood cases and covered with brocade. A landscape album by Qiu Ying of the Ming dynasty gives off the scent of ink through its red silk wrapping; blue-and-white porcelain from a Qing imperial kiln is carefully cushioned in layer upon layer of cotton. The peddlers peer through magnifying glasses, able to tell whether even the wormholes in a sheet of rice paper are new or old under the warm light of an antique shop.

The second-grade items are much more down to earth. Eight Immortals tables and grand chairs bear the patina of years of handling, while the knock of a brass ring on a door holds the stories of generations. The carved edges of camphorwood chests are etched with the marks of time; when opened, the scent of camphor mingles with the creases of old clothes. Peddlers often haul these homely furnishings on handcarts, calling out at alley entrances and drawing old neighbors to crane their necks and wonder if they might find a treasure worth keeping for a rainy day.

The lowest grade is a heap of genuine junk: rusty tin buckets piled with chipped coarse porcelain bowls, faded old newspapers wrapped around a wooden comb with missing teeth

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.