A Missed Opportunity (Part Two)

What? That string of beads is worth fifteen hundred yuan?" Upon hearing Old Ma's words, Fang Yi and the others were momentarily stunned. They had initially thought the old man was the one at a disadvantage, only to realize that they were the ones who had lost out.

"If I'm not mistaken, it should be..." Old Ma nodded earnestly. As a veteran in the antique market, he had a keen eye, even if he didn't frequently engage in the sale of cultural artifacts. The patina on that string of beads was far more substantial than the one Fang Yi had taken from the glass cabinet.

"Oh dear, we may have truly underpriced it..." The plump man smacked his thigh, a look of regret crossing his face. What they had thought would be a fortuitous first sale had turned into a missed opportunity.

"Why didn't Man Jun inform us?" Fang Yi shook his head. While Man Jun had meticulously detailed the approximate values of the items in the shop, Fang Yi distinctly remembered that he hadn't mentioned this particular string of beads.

"Perhaps Old Man Man also misjudged it..." Old Ma chuckled and remarked, "That old gentleman just now, surnamed Zhao, is a retired professor from the Academy of Fine Arts. His discerning eye is quite sharp. In the future, when he buys items, be more vigilant. Don't fret over such small losses; it's not uncommon for someone to spend over two hundred yuan on something worth hundreds of thousands..."

In the year 2000, the antique market was rife with various fakes and forgeries, yet a few genuine items still managed to mingle among them. However, unearthing these rare treasures amidst such a vast market was no simple feat. 

Of course, exceptions did occur. Just last year, a renowned collector in Jinling stumbled upon a weathered, muddy, and incomplete inkstone at a stall for a mere two hundred eighty yuan. 

Upon cleaning it at home, he discovered it was, in fact, an ancient Chengni inkstone from the Song Dynasty, complete with inscriptions. When he took it to the capital for expert evaluation, the results sent shockwaves throughout the antique community.

No one anticipated that, after thorough examination, this seemingly flawed inkstone was, in fact, crafted by the famous Su Dongpo during the Song Dynasty, and it had been his personal inkstone for many years, boasting immense archaeological and collectible value.

An appraisal suggested that even without auctioning it, the market value of this Dongpo Chengni inkstone would exceed three hundred thousand yuan. The collector had effectively acquired a treasure worth one thousand times the two hundred eighty yuan he had spent—truly a monumental stroke of luck.

This incident propelled the Jinling antique market into nationwide prominence, attracting numerous collectors from across the country, all hoping to uncover their own hidden gems. Many genuine artifacts were indeed found, yet none could rival the magnitude of that particular discovery.

"Oh dear, didn't the person who sold that inkstone for two hundred eighty yuan end up regretting it immensely?" 

Listening to Old Ma recount this story, the plump man's previous discontent over their own underpricing faded considerably. Compared to that unfortunate soul, Fang Yi's sale of the beads paled in significance.

Old Ma sighed as he spoke, revealing that he too had once been on the losing end of a deal. He shook his head with a wry smile and said, "Little Fang, remember, those who thrive in the antique world possess a discerning eye. There's no room for luck in this line of work. Truth be told, I've faced my own share of losses..."

Last year, Old Ma had acquired a batch of bronze mirrors, immediately recognizing that they were all modern forgeries. The copper patina was most likely artificially aged, and he had purchased them at a reasonable price of fifty yuan each.

The following day, he displayed the mirrors at his stall, pricing them modestly at two hundred yuan each. Surprisingly, despite being fakes, the mirrors were in decent condition and easily persuaded buyers, so within just two or three days, Old Ma had sold the entire batch.

What he didn't expect was that three days after selling the last mirror, a customer returned, inquiring if he still had any of the bronze mirrors left, expressing an eagerness to buy them all.

Curious about the urgency, Old Ma asked why the customer wanted more mirrors. Upon hearing the full story, he regretted not having known sooner, as it left him feeling quite disheartened.

The customer, after bringing home a mirror, had found the copper patina unsightly and proceeded to clean it with a whetstone and sandpaper, removing all the tarnish. To his astonishment, he discovered it was indeed a genuine bronze mirror, intricately engraved with the twelve zodiac signs—craftsmanship that was certainly not characteristic of modern forgeries.

This collector had some connections and quickly sought the expertise of a specialist at the Jinling Museum. After evaluation, they confirmed it was a Han Dynasty bronze mirror, with a market value ranging from fifteen thousand to thirty thousand yuan.

In the world of antiques, secrets are scarce, and news of this fortunate find spread rapidly. Old Ma became the subject of much amusement among his peers, and even years later, while drinking with fellow vendors, the story would often resurface.

"The depths of this industry are unfathomably profound..." 

As Old Ma shared his misadventures, Fang Yi, the plump man, and San Pao exchanged glances, finally realizing that if they truly wished to navigate the antique world, they needed to acquire relevant knowledge; otherwise, they might fall victim to deception without even realizing it.

"Brother Ma, could you help us assess whether there's anything valuable left in this cabinet?" The plump man eagerly ushered Old Ma to his stall, acknowledging that Old Ma's expertise was undoubtedly superior to theirs.

"Nothing of value remains; it's all quite ordinary..." 

Old Ma's gaze swept across the cabinet, noting that while the beads Fang Yi sold had some age and showed signs of oxidation, they had likely been neglected for too long, resulting in their lackluster appearance and diminished worth.

"Strange, Old Man Man is usually quite astute; how did he overlook that string of beads?" Upon returning to his stall, Old Ma couldn't help but mutter.

Having been in the market for years, Old Ma had started alongside Man Jun, but while Man Jun had since established himself as a shop owner, Old Ma remained a vendor. Besides interpersonal skills, Old Ma's insight and acumen were not on par with Man Jun's.

"Plump man, San Pao, I think we don't all need to be stationed here at the stall..." 

After hearing Old Ma's anecdotes about the antique market and missed opportunities, Fang Yi considered it and suggested, "Sitting at the stall won't teach us much. I propose we take turns, leaving only one person at the stall while the other two explore the market. Observing more and speaking less will help us learn."

"Little Fang, that's the right approach; it will help you integrate into this industry more swiftly..." Upon hearing Fang Yi's plan, Old Ma's eyes reflected a complex emotion.

Old Ma knew well that Man Jun had succeeded by doing just that—handing over his stall to someone else and wandering around the market, relentlessly seeking knowledge. Many had criticized Man Jun for being unfocused, yet after six months, people began to realize that he could trade just as adeptly as those who had been in the business for over a decade, displaying remarkable boldness and decisiveness.

Some said Man Jun was simply lucky, while others attributed it to his daring nature. However, Old Ma recognized another truth: Man Jun's success was no accident; he possessed an innate sensitivity and intuition for the trade, knowing precisely where to find opportunities. Now, Old Ma saw that same quality in Fang Yi.

"Fang Yi, you keep watch here; San Pao and I will go explore," the plump man, unable to remain still, jumped up at Fang Yi's suggestion.

However, just as he stood, he plopped back down, a sycophantic smile spreading across his face as he asked, "Excuse me, miss, what would you like to buy?"

"Miss? Do I look that old?" A youthful, melodious voice chimed in.

"Not old at all! You look several years younger than me..." The plump man nearly burst into tears at the questioning tone. After being chastised for calling her 'miss,' he had now switched to 'big sister,' yet the girl standing by his stall was still displeased.

"Plump man, let me handle this..." Seeing the plump man falter, Fang Yi shook his head, pulling him back into his seat. His gaze then fell upon the girl before him, and he couldn't help but be captivated.

Despite having spent years on the mountain and encountering either young children or older women, Fang Yi's appreciation for beauty remained intact. The girl before him was undeniably stunning.

She appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen, standing approximately five foot seven, clad in cropped denim jeans and a simple white T-shirt that perfectly accentuated her figure. The elegance of her silhouette rivaled that of the stars he had seen in magazines.

As he looked up, he noticed her skin was flawless, luminous as jade, and her eyes sparkled like clear water, exuding a refined and graceful aura. Even the plump man, known for his audacity, found himself awkwardly averting his gaze after a brief moment of eye contact with her.