In the largest antique town in Jiangcheng City, Su Ran felt that he was an anomaly.
Among the small vendors around, which one is not eloquent and can say that a porcelain from last week is from the Western Zhou Dynasty? He was the only one, wearing a washed-white shirt and a pair of plain glasses, sitting dully behind his stall. There were a few copper coins and a few snuff bottles on the stall, all of which were worthless genuine goods.
"Xiao Su, you can't do this." Fatty Wang, who was holding a cigarette in the stall next door, was spitting away a fool who had spent three thousand yuan to buy a "Qing Dynasty official kiln" while educating him earnestly, "In this business, if you don't open for three years, you will have to wait for three years if you open. If you still have to sell genuine goods, aren't you waiting to starve to death?"
Su Ran smiled helplessly and did not refute.
It's not that he doesn't want to sell fakes, but he... Can see it.
