The vendor raised his voice, "Eighty thousand yuan to buy antiques? This carving is the work of a master! What kind of joke are you playing at, young lady?"
Mu Qingli's tone was light and breezy, "Eighty thousand yuan might not get an antique, but it sure can buy a carving from a master. Although yours is indeed top-quality peach wood, the craftsmanship is a replica of the carving master Wu Yuanshan."
At this point, Mu Qingli paused, then continued, "Spending eighty thousand on an imitation, do you think I am the fool, or are you?"
"What nonsensical things are you saying, girl? This is no imitation! If you don't want to buy it, then forget it! Why spout such words to provoke me?" His item was indeed an imitation, but it was a top-quality one, virtually indistinguishable from one made by the master himself. He reckoned the girl had accidentally stumbled upon this fact and was intentionally saying these things to test him.