“It’s still one hundred dollars, one hundred dollars, one hundred dollars as the starting bid. Does anyone want to offer one hundred and fifty dollars, one hundred and fifty dollars...”

Henry raised his hand to signal, and the auctioneer pointed at him: “150 dollars, 150 dollars, 150 dollars. How about 200 dollars? 200 dollars, anyone?”

The other treasure hunters either frowned, kept a blank face, or whispered among themselves—no one bid.

David Thompson tried hard to keep his expression calm, but inside he was in turmoil, desperately praying to all the gods, Buddhas, Jesus, and God above that no competitors would appear.

But obviously, someone else had noticed that big box and followed with a bid: “Me!”

“Very good, then 200 dollars, 200 dollars, now it’s 200 dollars. How about 250 dollars? 250 dollars, anyone for 250 dollars?”

“Go for it!” Henry shook his head and said, then shrugged and muttered, “We have to get something out of this, let’s gamble on this storage unit.”

“So, 250 dollars, 250 dollars, now it’s 250 dollars, about to become 300 dollars, yes, 300 dollars, who wants it?” the auctioneer asked.

No one else bid. Judging by what could be seen, unit 205 was even less valuable than the previous three units. Just as Henry said, buying this unit was a complete gamble.

After a few quick calls with no response, the auctioneer repeated twice, then pointed at Henry: “Very good, unit 205 is yours!”

Chapter 0006: The Gaze of the Poor

The auction reached its climax at unit 207, because there was a massage chair packaging box inside, and the box was in great condition. This easily led people to think that the owner had disassembled the chair and put it back in the box.

The final prices for the previous four units were all just a few hundred dollars, with the lowest just over a hundred, making David Thompson feel this business was a bit of a joke.

But after discovering the massage chair box, a frenzied bidding war began, and he saw the brutal side of storage auctions:

“...200 dollars, 200 dollars, 200 dollars starting bid. Anyone willing to offer 300 dollars, 300 dollars for this unit? There are treasures inside that will make your mouth water!”

“...1,500 dollars, 1,500 dollars, 1,500 dollars. Anyone willing to offer 1,600 dollars, 1,600 dollars, 1,600 dollars? Very good, this gentleman bids 1,600 dollars. Next is 1,700 dollars, 1,700 dollars, yes, now it’s 1,700 dollars...”

“2,500 dollars, 2,500 dollars, 2,500 dollars. Anyone for 2,600 dollars? Very good, 2,600 dollars. Next, let’s be bold, I want to hear 2,800 dollars, 2,800 dollars, 2,800 dollars...”

“4,000 dollars!” shouted a rather well-off looking Black man.

Hearing this price, David Thompson was a bit surprised and said, “They’re bidding that high?”

Henry looked enviously at those still bidding and said casually, “Of course. Didn’t I tell you? This KASR massage chair is called a multifunctional electric space capsule. A new one costs twenty thousand bucks!”

Unit 207 was finally taken by the well-off Black man for 6,500 dollars. Watching him proudly go to lock up the unit, David Thompson gave him a look of pity:

There was no massage chair in that box—just some finance books and magazines. The owner probably thought the box was big and used it to keep the books neat.

Unit 208 contained only trash. This unit went unsold and finally went for fifty bucks.

David Thompson raised his eyebrows at Henry and said, “Hey, Boss Fu, how about taking this unit?”

Henry was taken aback: “What’s in there?”

David Thompson pointed and said, “Look, there’s a TV cover over there. I think there’s a TV underneath. Just the TV alone is worth more than fifty bucks, right?”

Henry said, “And what else?”

“The rest, we’ll have to see when we clean it out.”

“So you’re saying you’ve only spotted one item that might break even? Then forget it! We can take risks, but the point of risk is big returns. Why take a risk just to break even?” Henry shrugged.

There were some good things in the last unit. After waving his Wolf-Eye flashlight around at the door, Henry regretfully shook his head.

David Thompson asked, “What’s wrong?”

“If I still had my car, I’d bid on this unit. There’s a box inside—see it? I think it’s a gun case. There might be a nice old rifle in there, and that could make us money.”

Not having a car meant losing the initiative.

They only had 24 hours of ownership for the unit. Before the time was up, they needed to move everything out, including the trash.

In the end, what they left for the storage company had to be a clean, empty unit. If you only took the valuable stuff and left the trash, you’d never be allowed to participate in this company’s auctions again.

So, without a car, hauling out the junk would be a pain.

The last unit sold for 1,500 bucks. Clearly, Henry wasn’t the only one who spotted the gun case.

After the auction, Henry went to pay. This storage company required all-cash transactions—no online transfers accepted.

After paying, they got a receipt from the auctioneer with an extra stamp on it—they could get to work now.

Next door, the well-off Black man was the first to open his unit. He went straight for the huge box, reached out to lift it, and his face lit up with joy: “It’s heavy—there’s something inside!”

He opened the box, and a pile of books and magazines tumbled out.

At that moment, the Black man was dumbfounded.