Dragging my suitcase through the north gate into the market, the first thing I encountered was the greenhouse area. My, what a sight it was, especially on a Saturday—it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it was packed with people like the sea.

Diamond Bodhi, amber pine stones, porcelain knick-knacks, jade jewelry, bronze weapons, stone carvings, embroidery, and calligraphy paintings—it truly had everything, dazzling me and broadening my horizons.

Of course, most of it was fake. The odds of finding genuine articles among the greenhouse stalls were slim to none.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself, thinking, "All these are fakes, but my goods are personally collected authentic antiques. They should sell out in no time."

Spotting an empty stall inside the tent, I prepared to set up shop.

"Hey, what are you doing?" A bald stall owner next to me intervened.

"I'm setting up a stall," I replied.

"Setting up? You think you can just set up wherever you like? Get lost, kid, scram."

Gritting my teeth, I retorted, "I want to set up my stall. Is this your stall? I'll pay you—how much do you want?"

The bald man's eyes gleamed as he immediately said with a smile, "One hundred bucks. Give me one hundred and you can set up."

"What! A hundred?"

"That's so expensive!"

He squinted at me and said, "That's the price. If you're not setting up, then get lost. Don't block my business."

With less than a hundred left in my pocket, I bargained hard and reluctantly handed over ninety.

Now, I was left with only three dollars to my name.

The bald man took the money, grinning all the while.

Unexpectedly, no sooner had I started to lay out my stall than the loudspeaker of the Antique Market blared to life.

"Dear travelers and merchants, the Panjiayuan flea market is now closing. Please ensure you have all your belongings with you and leave the market in an orderly fashion. We wish you a pleasant shopping experience and prosperous business."

As the announcement ended, the surrounding stall owners began to pack up.

I was dumbfounded; I hadn't even fully set up yet...

Fuming, I confronted the bald man, "Give me my money back. The market is closing, and I haven’t even started yet."

"Pah!" The bald man spat and cursed at me coldly, "Damn you, what do you mean you haven't started? You've already set up your cloth! That counts as setting up! There's no way I'm refunding your money!"

My eyes reddened with fury; in desperation, I grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go, demanding my money back.

"Go to hell, you little brat!" He kicked me hard in the stomach.

At sixteen, I was no match for him. The pain was so intense I couldn't even stand up straight.

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The crowd thinned out as everyone packed up their stalls and left on their tricycles, including the bald man who had kicked me.

In the bitter cold of late winter, Beijing might not be as frigid as Mohe, but the nights were still freezing.

The market security, with their dogs in tow, kept urging me to hurry as I packed up, warning me of a fine if I took too long.

With the days short and the nights long, by the time I dragged my suitcase out of the market, darkness had fallen. I was cold and hungry, with only three dollars on me.

After sitting on a roadside bench for half an hour, I learned there was an internet café two kilometers away, west of the Hua Wei Bridge.

Dragging my suitcase, I headed there, only to find out the cheapest overnight rate was ten dollars—I didn't have enough.

My plan to stay at the internet café fell through.

Unable to bear the biting cold outside, I took refuge in an ATM self-service bank.

People came and went, withdrawing money, giving me strange looks.

The floor was cold and uncomfortable, and sleep eluded me. I pulled the hood of my cotton jacket over my head and curled up in a corner of the wall.

After two or three hours of dozing, someone tapped me. I looked up to see a woman in her fifties with a small white dog, likely a resident from the residential area near Jingsong.

"Young man, on such a cold day, why are you sleeping out here?"

"I just bought a couple of sesame flatbreads, still warm. If you don't mind, go ahead and eat them. I'll leave them right here for you," the old lady said, shaking her head as she placed the plastic bag on top of the red metal box used for the fire extinguisher.

After the old lady left the items behind, my stomach growled with hunger, and eventually, I went to grab the bag.

The flatbreads were dry, sesame-crusted ones—crisp and fragrant.

As I ate, tears began to fall.

"Am I really going to give up just like that?"

"If I go back, won't people look down on our family even more?"

"No, that won't happen," I reassured myself over and over again, "Xiang Yunfeng, you can definitely become a wealthy person."

At eight in the morning, I returned to Panjiayuan. Without money to pay for a stall, I could only wheel my suitcase around in circles, approaching anyone who glanced at porcelain wares. "Brother, would you like to take a look at my porcelain? They're all vintage, and I'll sell them for a fair price."

Just then, the market's loudspeaker blared again.

"Dear visitors, please be wary of illegal vendors following you. Keep an eye on your belongings to avoid being deceived."

With that announcement, the person's gaze towards me changed, and they quickly scurried away.

After approaching several people, all who mistook me for a criminal or a scammer, I entered an antique shop with a glimmer of hope. I asked the shop owner if he was interested in buying porcelain.

The shop owner responded indifferently, "What have you got? Show me."

Elated, I laid my rolling suitcase flat and opened it up.

"Hmm, these items aren't really up to par. They're old, sure, but how much are you asking for this pair of gallbladder vases?" the owner pointed to a pair of late Qing Dynasty foreign blue gallbladder vases in my suitcase.

Swallowing hard, I cautiously proposed, "They're from the late Qing Dynasty. Could you give... maybe eight hundred for the pair?"

"What? Eight hundred!" The owner's eyes bulged. "I'll give you no more than one hundred and fifty, take it or leave it."

"...One hundred and fifty for the pair?" A chill ran through me.

I had obtained them from a remote mountain area, enduring the cold and hunger on a two-thousand-kilometer journey by hard-seat train. I had paid one hundred just to get them!

Only a fifty yuan profit?

At that moment, my face flushed with anger, and I quickly packed up. Seeing that I was about to leave, the owner hastily added, "Hey, don't rush off. If it really won't work for you, I'll throw in another twenty. How about one hundred and seventy?"

Holding back my rage, I believed my asking price was fair and felt insulted by his offer.

"Keep your twenty yuan for yourself!"

When one is hot-headed, advice falls on deaf ears, and being young, my temper flared even more. Without further ado, I wheeled my suitcase out of the shop.

I hadn't given up yet. I planned to set up outside the market, but as I stepped out, I saw city management confiscating goods, and several peddlers who had been selling fakes had their items taken.

Frightened, I immediately abandoned the idea.

But when one door closes, another opens.

Just when I was at my lowest, an old man approached me. "Young fella, Panjiayuan is crowded on the weekends, and the stall fees are steep. Why don't you try Baoguo Temple? I've heard they don't charge for the stalls there."

Hearing this piece of good news, I was overjoyed and hurried towards Baoguo Temple near Guang'anmen.

The free stalls at Baoguo Temple were my last chance. (To be continued)

*******

I have also posted the following more chapters [All free]: https://www.readgates.com/article/7b136c