In the next warehouse, a white father and son vowed to win.
Therefore, the plan was repeated. At the critical moment, Zhang Jing increased the starting bid. Dateji said he had money, so he directly increased it by one hundred.
A portion of McDonald's chicken nuggets was only six yuan, a hundred dollars was not a small amount, and the white father and son were offended.
"Bang!"
A fist as big as a sandbag hit Dateji Narin's face. Dateji Naring's head buzzed and he retreated continuously.
"You! And you!"
The attacker turned around, pointed at Zhang Jing and shouted, "You two have grudges, don't come to harm us!"
Kangxi stood between Zhang Jing and the big guy, "Brother, don't do anything!"
The auction resumed after a brief commotion.
"Do you have a conflict with that Japanese man?" Kangxi asked Zhang Jing.
"I don't know him at all," Zhang Jing glanced at Dateji Naru who left in embarrassment, "That's just a lunatic."
Zhang Jing was not interested in the next few warehouses, so Kangxi took pictures of the fourteenth warehouse.
"There must be good things here. After the auction is over, we will come back to open the blind box."
While talking, Kangxi skillfully took out a lock from his coat pocket, locked the rolling shutter door, and continued to attend the next one.
Zhang Jing did not attack Kangxi. He spent 700 to take pictures of the messy warehouse. Behind a pile of broken cardboard boxes there were only some expired door lock samples.
They are all really rubbish. It is not easy or realistic to get rich overnight.
Like a slap in the face, the host took everyone in a circle to the fifteenth warehouse.
This is a small warehouse two meters wide and about four meters long. The outside is also filled with debris and some old clothes.
Within Goldfinger's five-meter visual range, two retro-looking pistols without rifling were hidden in wooden boxes in the corners.
The pistol shows no grip, which doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a grip, it just proves it’s not metal.
This is worth looking forward to!
"The starting bid is 50 meters," the host shouted as usual.
After more than ten rounds, a middle-aged woman shouted the price to 300 yuan. By this time, no one was willing to increase the price.
Zhang Jing added 5 yuan.
The middle-aged woman who bid 300 yuan looked at Zhang Jing and increased the price to 310 yuan.
Zhang Jing worked hard and increased the price to 400 yuan.
Women don’t want to engage in vicious competition, so they shrug and give up.
Kangxi took out a lock and handed it to Zhang Jing, "Open it now, or wait until the auction is over?"
Zhang Jing chose to lock the rolling shutter door.
The wish is beautiful, but the reality is a slap in the face. The warehouse behind is full of garbage, and it is for nothing for the warehouse company to clean it.
"BOSS," an African-American girl with big eyes and dirty hair came up to her, "Do you need to clean up? I'm very cheap. I have a pickup truck that can take away the garbage."
Treasure hunters are also garbage collectors, and African-American girls are the ones who really clean and find places to dump garbage.
"follow me."
Returning to the small warehouse he bought, Zhang Jing opened the iron lock.
Contrary to popular belief, this African-American girl is very diligent and moves the debris and garbage out neatly.
Zhang Jing walked straight to the bottom corner of the warehouse and picked up the wooden box containing the pistol.
There was too much dust in the warehouse. Zhang Jing walked outside and opened it, and what he saw were two well-preserved Suifa pistols, lying quietly on a piece of blue velvet.
The grip should be ivory. Although it is yellowed and patinated, it doesn't look cheap.
Surprisingly, there were more than a dozen postcards with stamps underneath the gun.
Before the Internet became popular, postcards were very commonly used. Most of them were greetings sent by friends and classmates. They were handwritten and warm.
Remove the gun body and take out the business card.
The font is scattered and a little shaky, which shows that the writer is not in good health.
The top postcard roughly contains the following content:
'Winnie, I feel deeply guilty for having committed irreparable wrongs against you. I am destined to go to hell. I wish you all the best, Bowen, March 3, 2022. '
Looking at other postcards, Zhang Jing knew more information.
This is a sad story. The sender and the recipient were lovers who loved each other till death when they were young, but were later forced to separate.
I just don’t understand that if we break up, what irreparable fault can there be?
To actually make a man blame himself for the rest of his life?
Considering that the writer is already writing unsteadily.
Before a private warehouse is auctioned, you have at least six months to notify the landlord. During this period, you must notify the owner by email, phone call, or write a letter to fulfill your obligation to give full notification.
Zhang Jing guessed that 'Winnie' might have been seriously ill or even died, otherwise she would not have abandoned two valuable-looking antique pistols.
"Xite!"
Kangxi came over and cursed angrily, "I bought a warehouse of garbage, and I don't even bother to deal with it."
"It's only a few hundred meters, which is just a small amount of money to you." Zhang Jing comforted the other party.
"You seem to have found something good," Kangxi pointed to the wooden box, "What is it?"
Zhang Jing opened the wooden box and showed it to Kangxi.
"Great God!" Kangxi exclaimed, "It's actually two antique pistols!"
Forty minutes later, Zhang Jing and Kangxi brought antique pistols to the Pike Place Market antique store.
The young pawn shop owner, Will, who has dark brown hair, a stocky build, is about 1.7 meters tall and weighs about 200 kilograms, is playing with his fingers.
"Welcome, what are you selling today?"
Zhang Jing placed the wooden box on the counter and opened it gently.
Will didn't know about antique pistols, so he got his old man, a bald old man.
"It seems to be a French cavalry pistol, specially made for the rich."
The old man put on his gloves, picked it up and looked up and down. He gave it a half-whisper, indicating that he wasn't very familiar with it.
Putting it down gently, the boss called the antique firearms expert.
The expert arrived in twenty minutes. He was an old man with a beard like a broom, about sixty years old.
When seeing the gun, the expert gave a direct answer, “This is a French mounted rifle from the end of the 18th century;
The biggest difference between a lance and a pistol is its length. Generally, in order to increase the effective range, a lance is longer than a pistol. "
Then the expert put on gloves and picked up the lance to look at it carefully. "The style is a lance. It is obviously a special model. The tail of the gun is decorated with a lion head pattern. It should belong to a certain family's emblem."
"How much is it worth?" the shopkeeper asked directly to the core.
"Considering that it is specially made and has an ivory handle, I estimate it to be 6,000 to 7,000 yuan per piece."
Zhang Jing was disappointed, too little.
In Shangyanshang, the big shopkeeper showed no sympathy at all and waved a Heavenly Sword directly at Zhang Jing, "Mr. Zhang, how about four thousand yuan each?"
What the experts quoted was the market price, and the pawn shop was a secondary market, so naturally it was impossible to give the original price.
But the old bald man's knife was too harsh.
After bargaining, the price was finally settled at 4,700 per bottle.
"Did you feel very little?" Kangxi asked tentatively after leaving the pawn shop.
Zhang Jing nodded.
It was a pitiful amount of money, 9,400 yuan, not even enough to support him and pay him a week's salary.
"Let's cooperate in buying a house," Kangxi invited again. "That mansion will be auctioned tomorrow. Buy it and renovate it. The profit will be much greater than opening a warehouse."
Zhang Jing spread his hands and said, "It's not that I don't want to cooperate with you, but it's just that I'm not strong enough."
...
After separating from Kangxi, Zhang Jing took Smart Dou back to Whitefish Town. On the way, he passed Bellevue and passed a large villa with two A-shaped display racks at the door.
White letters on a red background read: EstateSale, Publication
Apply the brakes decisively and pull to the side of the road to stop.
