"Boss, how much is this book?" David Carter asked. He didn't know the exact age of the book; it could even be a modern reproduction, but he trusted his own instincts. The moment he held the book in his hands, it felt even more comfortable than the bronze ornament of a boy bathing a cow he picked up yesterday.

"One hundred and fifty." The young stall owner moved quickly. After setting out his goods, he casually grabbed a stool and sat down by his bicycle.

"One hundred and fifty is too expensive. This book doesn't really count as an antique—at best, it's a reproduction. How about twenty?" David Carter asked. There were more and more people at the antique market these days, and as he walked through the crowd just now, he hadn't seen any transaction over a hundred yuan.

"I picked this up just last night. It's in perfect condition, beautifully printed. I spent quite a bit to get it myself—you can't expect me to take a loss, can you?" William Thompson said. He had a nickname, "Straw Sandal," and was one of the many "diggers" in Tanzhou. "Diggers" was the term for those who went to the countryside to buy antiques; in the trade, going out to buy goods was called "digging the ground," so naturally, they were called "diggers."

William Thompson had nothing—no money, no wife, not a stitch to his name, a penniless bachelor who only had to feed himself. He was a decent guy, kind-hearted. He used to be a butcher, then ran a grain and oil shop, but eventually, out of necessity—or maybe because he heard there was good money in antiques—he got into the business, found a master, and started collecting antiques.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was destiny, but not long after William Thompson became an apprentice, his master passed away, following Marx and Chairman Mao. The young man, who had only learned for a few days, was left on his own, hustling around the countryside. There were so many stories of people getting rich overnight, and poor William Thompson had been fed just enough of those dreams to keep him motivated. You could see him at every antique market, setting up his stall.

He often rode in on a battered bicycle, wearing a worn-out straw hat, braving the scorching sun. He wouldn't even bother to wipe the sweat off his face before energetically setting up his stall. He was diligent, had a sweet tongue, and the goods he collected were plentiful—a mix of good and bad. As long as he could make money, even if it was just enough to patch a tire, he'd sell.

The antique dealers at the market found him easy to deal with, so they liked trading with him. From the moment he entered the business, the young man was well-liked and popular. Of course, the most important reason was that he didn't really know the trade. People scrambled to buy from him because they could always find a bargain.

In fact, in dealing with people, if you're always trying to take advantage of others, your relationships will get worse and worse, and you'll end up being seen as cunning and deceitful. But if you let others take advantage of you, your relationships will get better and better. It may look like you're losing out, but in reality, you're gaining.

"How about this: you name your lowest price. I'm just a poor student—if I can afford it, I'll buy it; if not, I'll let it go. I really want this book, so let's call it your first sale of the day," David Carter said. He probably only had a hundred and fifty yuan on him, but he still needed to eat and sleep. Even if sleeping was easy to sort out, he couldn't go without food.

"Alright, eighty yuan and it's yours," William Thompson said. Even though he was honest, after a few years in the antiques business, he'd become a bit more shrewd. He'd picked up this book for ten yuan, and figured it was a Republic-era reproduction—just old goods, not quite an antique.

"Boss, eighty is still a bit much. I'm buying this as a gift. How about a flat fifty? It'll be your first sale, and it'll be the start of our acquaintance. Once we're friends, I'll come by often to buy from you," David Carter said sincerely. He felt William Thompson wasn't much older than him, and young people should be easy to talk to and not too stubborn.

"Alright, fifty it is. Let's be friends from now on," William Thompson agreed readily. For him, turning a ten-yuan item into fifty was already more than enough.

David Carter felt a bit of a pinch, but still paid up without hesitation, put the book in his bag, and was about to leave. But just as he stood up, a middle-aged man nearby spoke up: "Young man, are you willing to resell that book?"

Chapter 9: This Isn't About the Money

"Boss Su, what, you interested in this book too?" William Thompson stood up and said with a smile. He knew the man who spoke—it was Edward Clark, an antique dealer who ran a rare book shop in the antique market next door. Edward Clark was skinny, wore black-rimmed glasses, and looked a bit like a university professor.

Of course, that was just appearances—he wasn't actually that well-read. Still, he was a rare book lover, practiced calligraphy, wrote shop signs for people, did a bit of advertising, and made some pocket money. Occasionally, people would see him reading, looking like a poor scholar preparing for the imperial exams. Because he was often seen reading or pondering over old books, people preferred to believe he loved books. In fact, his passion for rare books was genuine, and he bought them often. So whenever someone got their hands on a Ming or Qing dynasty book, they'd usually contact him.

William Thompson and Edward Clark were old acquaintances. If this book, "Old Manuscripts of Mount Heng," hadn't just been discovered by David Carter, he would have contacted Edward Clark after the market closed. He hadn't expected Edward Clark to show up at the market so early in the morning.