I had been inside jail for seven years. Due to good behavior, my sentence was reduced.

On my first day out, I received several calls. The "bosses" were eager to persuade me to work with them. Some offered ten thousand yuan a month plus a car, while others proposed twenty thousand a month with shares in their businesses.

Most of these calls came from two places:

• Beijing’s Panjiayuan

• Tianjin’s Shenyangdao

After giving it some thought, I turned them all down.

Getting into this line of work in the first place had been a mistake. Even though I had experienced brief moments of wealth, I had paid the price—seven years of my life. From the fresh-faced young man I once was, I had turned into a man in his thirties with a potbelly.

The girl I once knew? She now had kids old enough to run errands for her.

I had no family, no ties to anyone. In the end, I chose to move to Dali.

I bought a small shopfront near Erhai Lake and opened a little convenience store. When business was slow, I’d walk along the lakeside, enjoying the sea breeze. Life had become simple and peaceful.

The store is located on Cangshan East Road, next to Le Mart. If any friends are ever in the area, I’d be happy to host you with tea.

Recently, there was news about the discovery of ancient Shu civilization relics, including the sensational golden mask that made headlines across the nation. Honestly, my path to wealth is somewhat related to these kinds of things.

It all comes down to two words:
Antiques and Tomb Raiding.

A few years ago, stories like Ghost Blowing Out the Light, Grave Robbers' Chronicles, and The Golden Eyes were all over TV and film. Now that I have some free time, I figured I’d write about the experiences I had in this line of work.

I’ve never been to places like Cloud Top Heavenly Palace or Qinling’s Divine Tree, and I don’t have "Golden Eyes." But having entered the antique business at sixteen, I have indeed seen many things that defy ordinary understanding.

Let me start from the beginning.

I was born in a small mountain village in northeastern China, right next to Mohe, a place so cold in winter it could freeze people to death.

My grandmother raised me. I never met my parents, nor did I care to ask for their names.

As they say, grandparents have a special bond with their grandchildren. I was a wild kid who didn’t listen to my teachers, had terrible grades, and was always at the bottom of my class.

Our family was so poor we had to rely on government assistance. The monthly subsidy was about eighty yuan, plus an additional hundred or so for being an orphan in difficult circumstances. Even then, living was a struggle.

During middle school, I became obsessed with the treasure-hunting shows on CCTV. Every day, I would watch as people brought in bottles and jars they’d dismissed as junk, only for experts to reveal that they were antiques worth tens of thousands—enough to buy houses and cars!

Back then, I constantly lied to my grandmother, saying the school had asked us to buy study materials. She’d give me the money, and I’d head straight to the bookstore to buy every book I could find about antiques.

I remember the first book I read was Fifty Rare Coins of Ancient Springs by Mr. Dai. It was a very thick book.

"Ancient Springs" refers to copper coins, which are called "purple coins" in our region. This book opened my eyes to a whole new world and ignited my obsession with antiques.

I rummaged through every corner of our house and even tricked my classmates. I told them not to bother reading the inscriptions on their coins and offered to buy any copper coins they could steal from home at a flat rate of fifty cents per coin. I started collecting them.

To save money, I scrimped on everything. At the school cafeteria, I never ordered side dishes. Later, I sold a pile of textbooks for seven yuan. My grades were so terrible that my teachers could only sigh constantly, saying, "This child is doomed. If he doesn’t start studying, he’ll grow up to be a scourge on society."

I scoffed at my teachers’ words. In my heart, I dreamed of striking it rich. Even if I became a "scourge," I would be a wealthy one.

In my final year of middle school, as the high school entrance exams approached, I was 17.

That winter, my grandmother slipped while shoveling snow in our yard and broke her leg. The medical and surgery expenses totaled over three thousand yuan.

Given our family’s situation, we couldn’t even scrape together six hundred yuan. I remember vividly—my grandmother lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), covered with thick quilts, crying late into the night.

My eldest uncle-in-law, who ran several farm-stay inns in Mohe’s Snow Village, was doing quite well in business. I went to his house to borrow money for my grandmother’s medicine.

He didn’t say much to my face, but one time, I overheard him saying behind my back that I was a jinx. He also called our family a group of destitute outcasts and said the money he lent us might as well be considered lost. He even told my eldest aunt to minimize contact with us.

That winter night, in the freezing temperatures of over minus thirty degrees Celsius in Mohe, I sat on a rock for more than three hours.

Young and reckless, my uncle-in-law’s words shattered a teenager’s self-esteem into pieces.

Clutching the borrowed money tightly, I vowed in my heart:
"I, Xiang Yunfeng, will rise above this! I will make something of myself!"

I dropped out of school on my own. Strictly speaking, I didn’t even have a middle school diploma—I was just a primary school graduate.

Out of the three thousand yuan, after paying for my grandmother’s surgery and medicine, there were still 753 yuan left. I secretly kept the remaining money.

I didn’t just collect copper coins anymore—I started going to neighboring villages to collect porcelain and silver dollars.

In rural areas, people only considered silver dollars valuable. They didn’t care much about porcelain bottles, bowls, or plates and weren’t very attentive to them.

I spent all my time reading books and watching treasure appraisal shows. Gradually, I developed some basic knowledge and a sharp eye.

I spent 100 yuan to buy a pair of late Qing Dynasty cobalt blue "chicken feather duster" bottles, less than 200 yuan on a few Republic-era famille rose small salt jars with ladies painted on them, and 180 yuan on three mid-Qing Dynasty folk kiln blue and white bowls. Unfortunately, all three bowls had "chicken claw" cracks and had not been well-preserved, with large fracture lines.

I also had a small bag of copper coins that I’d collected earlier—about 200 in total. Most of the coins were from the Song and Qing Dynasties, with Dao Guang, Guang Xu, Qian Long, Emperor Song, and Yuan Feng being the most common. I knew these coins weren’t worth much due to their abundance. However, I was pleased with three well-preserved Yong Zheng coins. I knew Yong Zheng Tong Bao coins had some value, but at the time, I didn’t know how much.

After buying all those items, I had spent over 500 yuan, leaving me with 240 yuan. For context, the average monthly salary at that time was just over 300 yuan.

I had a good relationship with a female classmate who helped me out by lending me two large 30-inch rolling suitcases.

With a total of 11 porcelain pieces and a small bag of copper coins, I carefully wrapped each item in layers of blankets, fearing they might break. I even stuffed the suitcases with foam for extra protection.

In the end, I completely filled two large rolling suitcases and a backpack.

My grandmother couldn’t understand what I was doing. She said I wasn’t pursuing an honest livelihood and lamented that raising me had been in vain. My eldest uncle-in-law also found out about it, and soon, the entire village knew.

Many people pointed fingers at me behind my back, whispering their judgments.

Bearing the cold stares and the misunderstanding of others, I packed my belongings and left Mohe on the morning of the seventeenth day of the twelfth lunar month.

At the time, I believed that Beijing was the city where the wealthiest people lived. Naturally, the antiques I collected had to be sold to people in Beijing. Besides, I had long dreamed of visiting Panjiayuan, the legendary marketplace.

There wasn’t a direct train from Mohe to Beijing, so I had to first take a train to Siping and then transfer to another train heading to Beijing West Station.

The journey spanned more than 2,000 kilometers and took over 50 hours. To save money, I chose the cheapest hard seat.

I carried two hefty rolling suitcases and a large backpack. My greasy hair and shabby clothes drew stares from the other passengers at the station, and I could hear them whispering about me.

I had never traveled far before, and this was my first time on a train—alone.

After buying my train ticket, I had less than 100 yuan left. If I couldn’t sell my antiques, I wouldn’t even have enough money to buy a return ticket, let alone food.

The food on the train was expensive, so I didn’t dare spend money. Instead, I kept refilling my cup with hot water and drank that to stave off hunger. When I was absolutely starving, I bought a bag of fried dough twists for four yuan.

For a rural kid, Beijing was a whole new world. Everything felt fresh and fascinating. Even the security scanners at the station were something I had never seen before.

At the time, I was still under eighteen, but I wasn’t shy around strangers and wasn’t afraid to strike up conversations. I asked people how to get to the Panjiayuan Antique Market, and the ticket clerk was very friendly. She told me to take the subway and even explained how to transfer lines.

From Beijing West Station, I took Line 9, then transferred to Line 10 at Liuliqiao, and finally got off at Panjiayuan Station.

Thankfully, I had a good memory and didn’t take too many wrong turns. Back then, subway rides only cost two yuan, no matter how far you traveled, as long as you didn’t exit the station.

After leaving the subway, I found myself on a sidewalk with textured anti-slip tiles. Carrying my backpack and dragging two large suitcases, I struggled to keep moving.

After crossing Huawei Bridge, I finally saw the golden horizontal plaque outside the north gate.

"Panjiayuan Flea Market."

"I’ve made it at last."

[--------------------------------------------]

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