Chapter 1 【Your Painting Isn’t Real】

Little Harris's cousin appeared on the "Treasure Appraisal" program, and the landscape painting he bought from the countryside was valued by experts at several hundred thousand.

Old Thompson's nephew picked up a set of pottery at Panjiayuan for a bargain price and resold it for tens of thousands.

David Martin went to Yunnan to gamble on jade stones. I heard he wiped a raw jade stone and struck it rich overnight.

News like this drifts into my ears almost every moment. I can’t help but sigh, often thinking how wonderful it would be if such good fortune could fall on me. My name is James Brooks, twenty-one years old, a sophomore at Beijing Information Science and Technology University. My family isn’t wealthy, so I can only work at the Beijing Antique Market during winter and summer breaks to earn some living expenses for the next semester.

Mr. Carter, who specializes in jade, is a very kind middle-aged man. Though his business is ordinary, he has great connections. Many regulars who wander around here all know Old Carter. Even if they don’t buy his jade, they’re used to coming by to chat and gossip about the latest happenings in the circle.

Today was no exception.

Near closing time in the evening, the owner of the southernmost calligraphy and painting shop and two regular customers strolled into the store.

“How’s business today?”

“So-so.” Old Carter greeted them with a big smile, pushed over a few round stools for them to sit, and turned to remind me to put away the checked goods. I agreed, pried open the safe leaning against the wall, and carefully moved several valuable stone carvings inside one by one.

“Did you watch TV last night? Grace Cooper went on CCTV for an interview.”

“Of course I watched! Heh, who would’ve thought—even an appraisal expert like Grace Cooper could make a mistake, and it happened right here in our antique market.”

“I actually knew about that incident a year ago. A shop owner on the second floor secretly told me.”

“Too bad I wasn’t there that day, haha. But honestly, there are few people in China richer than Grace Cooper. A million is nothing to her—she doesn’t care at all.”

After finishing my work, I took off my white gloves, informed Mr. Carter, and pulled open the glass door with one hand to step outside.

On the way downstairs, I couldn’t help but sigh. If I could be as wealthy as Grace Cooper, I’d definitely buy a big villa, collect a bunch of antiques I like, sponsor a group of children who can’t afford school, and set up a few hope primary schools...

But it’s easy to say—money isn’t that easy to earn.

I’m a conservative, cautious, honest, and dull guy. The word “boldness” doesn’t exist in my dictionary. I also know that being fabulously wealthy is something that will never happen to me. The only future I can see is graduating from college, competing with countless graduates for a job that pays 2,000 yuan a month, marrying a wife so plain that even a rogue wouldn’t have bad thoughts, taking out a mortgage to buy a house, and becoming a “moonlight clan” who spends every cent of his salary on loan payments. Day after day, year after year, until my hair turns white, bedridden, and finally ending up in a cold, cheap urn.

Maybe that’s the rest of my life.

I shook my head sadly and walked down the corridor, not daring to think further.

Suddenly, the evening glow outside the window was stained with a heavy gray-black, and thunder and lightning crashed down without warning.

Crack!

Boom!

Inside the antique market, all the lights, without exception, flickered wildly a few times and then went out!

My head spun, cold sweat and a chill instantly seeped from my forehead, just like when my blood sugar is low. I instinctively crouched down, pressed my hand to my forehead, and gulped the hot, stuffy air. It was just thunder—was it really that bad? I’ve always been healthy, so I didn’t understand what was happening to me.

After a while, the dizziness gradually faded.

But then, I felt someone bump into me hard from behind. To keep my balance, I staggered forward a few steps, frowned, but didn’t say anything. The power had just gone out, so bumping into each other was inevitable. I opened my eyes, but the dazzling light made me reflexively close them again.

Huh?

Something’s not right!

I froze for a moment. In my ears, I heard a jumble of voices, as if I’d fallen into Tiananmen Square during National Day. And just as I was about to fall, my right hand grabbed a wad of paper—I didn’t know what it was.

After adjusting to the light a bit, I opened my eyes again.

What I saw next gave me a real shock.

I found myself squeezed into an antique shop filled with dazzling collectibles. Feeling awkward in my arms, I looked down in a daze—my long-sleeved shirt had been replaced by a short-sleeved T-shirt, and the sneakers on my feet had become the canvas shoes I bought for thirty yuan at a street stall last year. The place was packed with people, all staring at me in astonishment.

This is...

I wondered if I was dreaming. Just a moment ago, the antique market was deserted—how could it suddenly be so lively?