Seeing that the white-faced skin said to himself viciously, "Is it that funny that I am sending 500 yuan? Otherwise, you can give this book to you!"

Lin Yi knew that he was talking angry, so he shook his head and said, "Sorry, maybe a little misunderstanding, you guys continue----" and then smiled and shut up.

The white-faced skin was so angry that she no longer paid attention to Lin Yi, but looked at the boss, "Then what price do you want?"

The stall owner smiled and said, "If you don't say more than a thousand, just give an integer of one thousand yuan."

The two companions next to him smiled, "Old Ding, you just asked you to bid, but you refused to do so. Now you bid more than a thousand yuan, which is cruel enough."

"It's not that I'm ruthless enough, it's that this set of books is worth the price." Lao Ding said carelessly, "Besides, you are all big bosses, so how could you care about this little money."

White flour waved his hand, "Don't make this set for me, your soup is useless to us---She put this set first, let's see what else is..."

Lin Yi followed them to see what treasures the stall owner had taken out.

Sure enough, Confucius Temple is a big place, and these sellers are all strong people. The old books below are actually from the new literature of the Republic of China. There are Zhou Zuoren's "Talk of Dragons" and "Talk of Tigers" and Hu Shi's "Talk of Trying". Not to mention the others, these three books are rare books among the rare books.

"Look, the good things are all behind. This week, these two books are pretty good. They are so good at 85 years old. Unfortunately, they are the fourth edition in 1930, not the first edition printed..."

"Yes, if the first edition is printed, it would be worth a lot of money."

"This book of Hu Shi's "Test Collection" is pretty good, but unfortunately it is not the first edition. The first edition was in the ninth year of the Republic of China, and this is the third edition of the eleventh year of the Republic of China..."

The three old customers looked through these fine old books, muttering like nothing happened, occasionally glanced at Lin Yi.

Lin Yi heard it and knew that these people were deliberately showing off. They probably thought they didn't even know what new literature was.

The stall owner was like an old farmer waiting to harvest crops. At some point, he lit a cigarette and sat on the steps beside him half-pulled his butt, and said, "I can't get such books now. They used to be inconspicuous, but now they are very expensive. I only collected these books at a high price. I originally wanted to hide them for a while before taking them out. Thinking about you, you are all old customers, I thought about taking them out first to make your eyes look good."

"Old Ding, what you said is quite authentic. There are not many people in the old book market. It is too expensive to collect new literature in the Republic of China. Many people can't play half of it. Only Brother Luo can do this. When you give him a real price, he will shoot you." The guy in glasses among the two companions.

Another Goldfish-eyed man said: "Your book is good, but unfortunately, it's not the first version, so the price will be greatly reduced. We won't fool you. These three books will give you a total of 3,500 yuan. What do you think?"

When Baimian saw that his two friends helped him take the lead, he stopped talking and smiled and saw what Lao Ding said.

Lao Ding moved his butt from the steps, then spit out a cigarette and said, "It's low, three books are 5,000."

"Hey, I really dare to ask for it." Baimian said, "Nothing else, Lao Ding, if your "Try Collection" was the first version of the Ninth Year of the Republic of China, I would never dare to buy it if I pay 5,000 yuan for each. But you are from the third edition, and the two are from the fourth edition. Such a good book is like a big girl, one is married three times and the other is from the fourth edition. Even if it is a golden branch and a jade leaf, it is not worth much."

"I don't understand these," Lao Ding slowly spitted out a cigarette. "I said it just now, and I didn't plan to sell it. I heard that the current market of this kind of book is rising, so I want to talk about it."

Baimian couldn't help but be stunned. Unexpectedly, Lao Ding took his skills and looked at his partner, the man with glasses and goldfish eyes. The two of them also spread their hands, meaning that this guy was playing fishing again.

The white flour waved his hand and said, "Okay, I won't bother with you! These three books, plus the set of "Shi Shi Tong School Notes", have a total of 5,000 yuan. If you want, you will be sold. If you don't want, you will be covered!"

Seeing that the other party finally shook, Lao Ding smiled and said with the flow: "Since everyone is old friends, 5,000 is 5,000! The deal is completed---!"

...

Lin Yi watched coldly. These books cost 5,000 yuan, which seemed reasonable in his opinion. The boss didn't take much attention and didn't pick up any white-faced skin. Just looking at the stall owner, Lao Ding, should be the kind of person who doesn't see a rabbit or a hawk. Maybe there are still some treasures hidden in his hands.

As if proving Lin Yi's guess, when Lao Ding was happy to see a deal settled, he said with a grip on Yahua again: "Three, I have a 'thunderbolt' in my hand. I wonder if you dare to ask for it?"

"Leizi" is a good thing in the old book market, but there are risks of "black goods", such as stolen treasures, or cultural relics dug out of the ground that are explicitly prohibited from buying and selling, or even national treasures. In short, you should be careful when buying and selling such things. First, the price is high, and second, the risk is high.

Seeing the old Ding's eyes as mysterious as he looked, the three white-faced skins were curious and asked, "How thunder is this thunder?" What does it mean? Is the risk great?

Lao Ding took a sip of cigarette and sprayed it out, making his black face looming in the smoke like a god, saying, "It was brought from the home of a university professor in the art school - don't worry, it was not stolen, it was his son who was not a good player and liked to play cards and lose. Even if he steals it, he is a thief."

The three of them looked at each other. There were too many such things in Confucius Temple. There was no way. Jinling was large, and there were many people with great family and great business. There were unfilial sons in the family. Not long ago, a prodigal son sold the Ming Dynasty blue and white porcelain treasured by his ancestors. The original millions of things were sold for hundreds of thousands.

Why do this?

First, cash out quickly.

Secondly, it is not easy to be caught.

Thinking of this, the white flour skin felt that there might be some leaks to pick up, and asked, "How much is your thunderbolt to sell?"

Lao Ding smiled mysteriously and said, "It's useless to say too much--you'd better look at the goods first."

After saying that, Lao Ding stood up, looked around, and then took out a plastic bag from his waist--it turned out that this rare book was hidden around his waist and put on his pants.

The white flour frowned because the smell of sweat on Lao Ding's body was so bad. As scholars and scholars, they have always been bathed in the fragrance of books and ink, so how could they bear this kind of pickled smell? But in order to see if it was Baby He, I still tolerate it---
Chapter completed!