Treasures from the Market

At 4:30 in the morning, the ghost market ended. Chen Qinglin squatted on the roadside eating fried noodles with the two hundred yuan he earned today in his pocket. He didn't have much ability - he dropped out of college and rented in the Handshake Building in an urban village for 800 yuan a month, with his window facing the wall next door. The only thing I can use is the antique knowledge I learned from my grandfather when I was a child. In this circle of true and false, there is not enough to see. But he was unlucky. I received a blue and white bowl in a demolished old house for 30 yuan, and was targeted. I casually reminded the buyer that the item was not right, and offended all the counterfeiters. The antique water in Jiangzhou is too deep. Some people want to cut off his path, and some want him to disappear. Chen Qinglin understands a truth: In this industry, you will lose the most money if you are not sure of things - if you are not sure of people, you will even lose your life. But he understands better that the real good stuff is hidden under the market and must be dug out slowly.