In the land of Panjiayuan, three religions and nine streams gather together, and the water is deep enough to drown a dragon. There is an old saying in the antique business, "If you don't open for three years, you will have to wait for three years if you open." But that is aimed at shopkeepers and bosses. For a handyman like Lin Yuan, who works as a low-level apprentice in the "Jubao Pavilion", this profession is a bottomless pit, sucking up his sweat and not even leaving him a fart.
It was around eight o'clock in the evening, the sky was overcast, thunder was rolling outside, and a heavy rain was threatening. There is a dull scent of sandalwood in Jubao Pavilion. Lin Yuan was bending over, holding a rag in his hand, sweating profusely and wiping the bottom layer of the mahogany shelf. His back aches, and his fingers have developed a thick layer of calluses due to long-term exposure to various chemical lotions. There are even a few cracks on his fingers, and it hurts when he bends them even slightly.
"Lin Yuan! You kid, you're so sloppy! You haven't eaten, haven't you? If that big pastel vase from the Qing Dynasty gets even a little bit of dust on it, I'll skin you!"
A roar like a drake exploded from behind the counter. The person who spoke was the store manager of Jubao Pavilion, Wang Defa. This old boy has a beer belly, a Mediterranean hairstyle, and a smooth forehead full of calculations. He was holding a purple clay pot at the moment, his big mung bean eyes staring at Lin Yuan, with a sinister sneer hanging on the corner of his mouth.
"Hey, I know Store Manager Wang, finish wiping it right away." Lin Yuan gritted his teeth and suppressed the anger in his heart. He is an orphan. His grandfather passed away a few years ago, leaving him with a lot of medical debt. He can only work here as a cow and a horse, earning a pitiful basic salary every month to pay off the debt.
