Chapter Twenty-Eight: Two Things

"Hey there, young man! First time here? You’ve got a refined air about you—come, take a look at this sandalwood bead bracelet. Genuine small-leaf red sandalwood, a treasure from the previous dynasty! It may not have belonged to the emperor, but it was once worn by nobles and ministers..."

"Heh."

"A gentleman should wear jade—this piece of ancient jade is perfect for a handsome guy like you!"

"Heh."

"...We can talk about the price, of course."

This was the largest antique market in Lin City. As soon as one stepped inside, stall owners on both sides hawked their wares as if they were selling vegetables, their tongues as sharp as blades, able to turn black into white. Anyone lacking experience would easily be taken in.

The market stretched over a vast area, arranged in a grid. Though it wasn’t the weekend, there were at least several hundred stalls, each laden with an endless assortment of objects—metalwork, jade, calligraphy, paintings, coins from every era, porcelain, jewelry, and all manner of oddities. There was truly everything one could imagine. Jiang An even saw someone displaying their own battered copper foot basin, a chipped bowl used to feed cats, and a wardrobe for holding clothes, all laid out for sale, which was certainly an eye-opener.

In prosperous times, antiques flourish; in troubled times, it’s gold that prevails.

Most customers in the antique market were elderly, though there were also some young enthusiasts and a few wealthy, pot-bellied tycoons. They wandered from stall to stall, inspecting items, asking questions, haggling for fun—it was a pastime, a pleasure. The rule here was simple: before the deal, you could bargain as you liked, but once the transaction was complete and cash and goods exchanged, there was no turning back. Whether a buyer picked up a treasure for a song or a vendor sold a worthless item for a fortune, both sides simply had to accept their luck—sharp eyes were everything.

As for Jiang An, he had little knowledge of antiques and didn’t expect to strike it rich here. After satisfying his curiosity, he quietly activated his Celestial Eye to observe the spiritual energy of the various items—a method akin to cheating, but highly effective, allowing him to scan the stalls with remarkable speed.

While antiques didn’t always contain spiritual energy, anything that did was certainly unusual. In addition, Jiang An saw traces of dragon energy, Buddhist light, and even yin energy—it was a true jumble of the extraordinary and the mundane.

He quickly summarized his findings: among the tens of thousands of objects in the market, only about a dozen displayed any anomalies, and most of those were low-grade, incomplete items. Only two pieces barely caught his attention.

"Boss, how much for this?"

Jiang An squatted by a stall, pointing to a pale yellow talisman paper about the size of a palm, inscribed with mysterious vermillion symbols. Unfortunately, it was missing a corner and looked old and gray, hardly appealing—most people wouldn’t spare it a glance.

The stall owner, a swarthy middle-aged man, brightened at the prospect of a customer. "You mean this precious talisman? Young man, you have a discerning eye. This is—"

"Enough," Jiang An cut him off before he could launch into his sales pitch. "I’m only buying it because I like it. If I didn’t, it wouldn’t matter what you said. I’m no novice, just tell me your price."

By convention, Jiang An should have pretended to ask about something else, then quietly bundled the talisman with a few other items for a bargain. But he couldn’t be bothered with such games—he hardly cared about saving a little money.

The owner was momentarily stunned by his directness—he hadn’t even used his well-practiced spiel yet. Glancing at the talisman and then at Jiang An’s calm demeanor, he felt uncertain. Usually, the more he chatted with a customer, the more he could glean important information, but Jiang An’s straightforwardness threw him off.

"One hundred thousand?" the owner ventured, adding quickly, "I’m not exaggerating—just look at the material! This paper is fireproof! I can show you—"

He produced a lighter and tried to set the talisman alight, but as he claimed, the paper would not burn. Grinning, he said, "See? When I first got this, I didn’t know how magical it was. But there was a fire at my house once, and guess what..."

Jiang An rolled his eyes. The owner was back to his old tricks. He waved a hand dismissively. "So, fireproof paper is magical? I wasted my chemistry classes, did I? Fine, I’ll ask you this: aside from being fireproof, does this talisman do anything else? Surely you had an expert appraise it. If you can name another remarkable trait, I’ll pay your price of a hundred thousand."

"Uh..." The owner chuckled awkwardly, at a loss for words. He had indeed taken it to be appraised, but it wasn’t one of the common calming or warding talismans, and no one could decipher the strange symbols. If it were truly valuable, would it still be here?

"Then, how much would you offer?"

Jiang An hadn’t planned to haggle, but he wasn’t about to be a fool, so he said casually, "What’s today’s date?"

"The 23rd. Why?"

"I’ll take the last digit—thirty thousand."

So offhanded? The owner blinked, delighted, and agreed at once. "Deal!"

Three thousand for a piece of paper—he’d never lose on that, and his earlier asking price was just a shot in the dark.

Worried that Jiang An might change his mind, the owner quickly produced an ornate box for the talisman. Jiang An accepted it and asked, "How would you like to be paid?"

"Sorry, small business—cash only," the owner replied. "I’m not well-educated, and I got burned by electronic transfers before. I only trust cash now, I hope you understand."

"But I don’t have that much cash on me," Jiang An admitted. He only carried his phone and a bit of change—who carries that much cash around these days? Even an immortal had to keep up with the times.

With no bank card either, he’d have to call for help. He took out his phone and dialed, "Hello, Gao? Bring me some cash, will you?"

Naturally, it was Gao Chao on the other end. "Your Highness, when I first drove for you, I put a bag of money—several million—in the trunk. If that’s not enough, I can bring more."

Jiang An had forgotten about that, as he seldom drove the Mercedes. "I took a taxi. I’m at the antique street next to the Palace of Culture. Check which of our people are nearby and have them bring the cash."

"Those kids wouldn’t recognize you, and they’re too rough. I’m close by—I’ll bring it myself. I’ll be there in twenty minutes!" Gao Chao replied eagerly.

"All right," Jiang An agreed, hanging up. He told the stall owner, "I’ll leave the item here and return in twenty minutes to complete the deal. Is that all right?"

"Of course! Since you’ve said so, I’ll wait. No matter who comes in the next twenty minutes or how much they offer, I’ll hold it for you," the owner promised, thumping his chest.

Afraid I’ll back out, huh? Jiang An chuckled but didn’t expose him. "Thank you. I’ll go browse Fortune Pavilion next door while I wait."

"Go ahead!"

Most stalls in the market were makeshift, but there were also well-decorated, reputable shops with a higher chance of genuine articles, and naturally, higher prices. Some also sold crafts and rare supplements.

The second item that caught Jiang An’s interest was in Fortune Pavilion. Entering, he was greeted by a wave of warmth. Screens partitioned the space into an elegant enclave where a slightly plump, scholarly-looking middle-aged man sipped tea—the owner, no doubt.

Seeing a guest, the man rose and said, "Welcome. The water’s just boiled—care to join me for some tea?"

Jiang An accepted and sat across from him, watching as the man brewed tea with practiced grace. Soon, a small cup of fragrant green tea was set before Jiang An with an inviting gesture.

He took a sip and remarked, expression unchanged, "Good tea."

The owner was a touch disappointed, having expected a more nuanced commentary. Clearly, Jiang An was no connoisseur.

But how could he know that Jiang An had tasted countless spiritual teas in the immortal realm, his palate long since refined? Even the rarest, life-extending teas would at best earn a "Not bad" from him—"Good tea" was generous praise.

It wasn’t that the tea was lacking; it was simply that the immortal’s standards were too high.

"Feel free to browse, but please don’t handle anything without permission," the owner said politely, his manners impeccable.

Jiang An smiled and pointed at a shelf. "I’d like that Fortune Stone."

"Which one? The one carved with ‘Luck Turns with the Stone’?" the man asked, indicating a head-sized stone on a lower shelf among the crafts.

"That’s the one."

The owner fetched the stone and set it on the table. "I’m an honest businessman, so I’ll be upfront: this is actually jade, but it’s been polluted by other minerals, giving it a star-speckled appearance. We call it ‘dirty jade.’ Because of the impurities, it’s only suitable as a craft piece. To be honest, it’s my own work. If you want it, it’s ten thousand—no bargaining."

"Fine. Cash or transfer?"

"Either is fine."

"Cash, then. My friend’s bringing it—he’ll be here soon." Jiang An wasn’t sure why he phrased it this way.

"No problem," the owner replied, pouring more tea. "May I ask what you do? You look young but carry yourself with composure—not a student, I’d wager."

"Good eye, sir. I’m a doctor—practitioner of Chinese medicine. Occasionally, I teach at Dongda University."

The owner was surprised—being a young doctor was one thing, but teaching at a prestigious university? Was this some kind of joke?

He was skeptical but smiled. "I didn’t expect you to be so accomplished at your age. You must be skilled. Would you mind taking a look at me? How is my health?"

A test, no doubt. Jiang An smiled. "You’re in good health, with regular habits. I don’t see any major issues. If I’m not mistaken, you might have athlete’s foot."

"You can tell that? Not from my face, surely?" The owner was startled, then laughed. "Ah, I get it—you saw the medicine I keep over there."

"Haha, you guessed it."

...

The two found themselves quite congenial and chatted amicably. After a while, a handsome young man strode in—it was Gao Chao, carrying a briefcase.

At the sight of him, the owner’s expression shifted. He quickly stood and greeted him with a smile. "Ah, Master Chao! What brings you here? As it happens, I’ve just received a new batch of goods—would you have a look?"

Gao Chao was known for his frequent visits to the antique street, his generous spending, and his reputation as someone not to be trifled with. Naturally, the owner was cautious.

But Gao Chao was a bit embarrassed—good heavens, with his real boss here, how could he accept such deference? Waving a hand, he said, "No need. I’m not here for you. Boss, here’s what you asked for."

He handed the items to Jiang An with utmost respect.

The owner was stunned—did he just call this young man "boss"?

Jiang An nodded, then turned to the owner. "By the way, about the price we just discussed—I don’t think it’s quite right. I suggest we renegotiate."