"My husband's unwanted junk is just right for you." The rich man's wife tosses a battered bronze sword at my feet, looking down at my grimy work clothes with contempt. I bend to pick it up and run my fingers over the blade. A Southern Song artifact, with a lost copy of the Heavenly Dipper talismans hidden in the lining of its scabbard. I smile and wipe away the dirt. "I'll take this junk." Three months later, at an auction, her billionaire husband kneels and begs me to sell him the sword. I shake my head. "Your wife gave it to me. I'm not selling it." As I watch the couple turn against each other, I head toward the next recycling yard. There are even more valuable treasures waiting for me there.
