Henry pushed him back again: "Cut the crap, David Thompson, I will never leave empty-handed, and I definitely won't lose to that woman Randall!"

"You need money to lose!" David Thompson shouted sternly. "You're blinded by hatred!"

The two started arguing, so Randall stopped bidding, and the auctioneer quickly said, "Fifteen hundred, fifteen hundred, that's not a high price. You know, there might be a Harley motorcycle hidden in this storage, so I'm saying sixteen hundred, sixteen hundred, does anyone accept?"

"I do." Randall continued to bid.

Henry squeezed his pocket, showing a gritted-teeth expression, and followed up: "Two thousand!"

"Wow, has Boss Fu gone crazy?" A treasure hunter immediately exclaimed.

Randall seemed to want to raise the bid again, but David Thompson reached out to pull Henry and said, "That's enough, come with me!"

As soon as he said this, Randall didn't raise the bid again. Instead, she made a throat-slitting gesture and mocked, "Leave? You two losers, get ready to pay for this pile of junk! No brains and you want to play treasure hunting? You should go pick up dog poop!"

The auctioneer looked at the crowd and continued, "Two thousand, two thousand, so twenty-one hundred, does anyone want to take it?"

Henry looked at the crowd hopefully, but there was a hint of regret on his face, as if he was hoping someone would outbid him and take the storage away.

Seeing this, the onlookers all shook their heads.

The auctioneer called twice, and when no one raised the bid, he waved and pointed at Henry: "Congratulations, Boss Fu, you won this valuable storage!"

Henry immediately became dejected, while Randall's group burst into laughter. A Black man even shook his butt at them and cursed, "Eat our dust, paupers!"

The usual routine: pay, open the storage, and start treasure hunting.

As always, Henry did the sorting while David Thompson helped out. He picked up an electric fan and said, "Let's see if this works. If it does, I think we can sell it for fifty bucks. Of course, I could give it to you as a reward—you acted pretty well just now."

David Thompson shrugged and said, "I'm just a rookie who just graduated from the New York Film Academy. You're the real actor. That hopeful yet regretful look you had at the end was perfect—even Tom Hanks couldn't pull off that damned vibe!"

Needless to say, their argument earlier was all an act.

When they decided to bid on the fifth storage, Henry had already guessed that Randall would compete with him, and there were another fifty or sixty people eyeing it hungrily.

To secure the storage smoothly, he devised this act—first provoking Randall to get into a bidding war, so the others wouldn't join the competition for this storage.

And Randall didn't have much money left; she had already won three storages, and not bidding on the fourth proved it.

So Henry aggressively raised the price, making David Thompson argue with him, giving outsiders the impression that "he wasn't interested in the storage itself, but just competing with Randall out of spite."

With the price a bit high, Randall didn't dare to follow. She just wanted to trap Henry, not actually buy the storage.

Their plan ultimately succeeded—two thousand bucks for a Harley wasn't expensive at all.

After sorting through a pile of miscellaneous items, the storage was empty except for a stack of cardboard boxes.

Seeing this, Henry got a little anxious and asked, "Weren't you sure the motorcycle was here?"

David Thompson kept up the act, hesitating: "I said, fifty percent chance."

Henry picked up a flat box, opened it, and looked inside. His face lit up with joy: "Dog—dog—dog crap! It's a tire! It's a tire!"

David Thompson also pretended to be excited and ran over to look. Henry opened the box, revealing a big black tire still smelling of rubber and a shiny silver wheel hub.

"An eighteen-inch thick tire, seven-layer contrast chrome Agitator wheel hub! God! God! God! This is Harley equipment!" Henry shouted.

He was so loud that people from storage number four next door and Randall's group from storage number three all came running.

After finding the tire, the previously tired Henry was energized again and quickly tore open the rest of the boxes.

Then, another tire, the front end, engine, fairing, seat, and other parts all appeared. With a simple assembly, the imposing and fierce Harley Street Glide was right in front of everyone.

Seeing this, Randall spat thickly and cursed, "Damn it, you really are a dog-shit guy, got dog-shit luck, huh?"

Henry gave her the finger: "Get lost, woman. We spent two thousand bucks and got a Harley. How much did you spend? Seven thousand? Eight thousand? And what did you get?"

Randall sneered, "We have two Yamahas in storage number one. We might not have made less than you."

David Thompson looked at her like she was an idiot and said, "You're a rookie at treasure hunting too, huh? Can't you see those two Yamahas are missing their engines?"

Hearing this, Randall's group got a little flustered, but she still tried to act like a boss and waved, "Don't listen to this kid. Let's sort through them one by one."

The most valuable things in storage number three were two scrapped motorcycles, which could be sold for two hundred bucks in parts; storage number two was a bit better, with a self-assembled motorcycle that could fetch five or six hundred.