I pamper the little baby in 80

Yuan Hongjun is a man who is loyal to himself, he cannot settle for a momentary pleasure, he has no emotional relationship, no different from an animal.

In his previous life, he was alone and wanted to find someone he loved to be with him. In this life, he couldn't be someone he hated.

Instead of thinking about these things and getting nothing, it is better to make money directly.

Yuan Hongjun spent 4 cents for a bus ticket and came to the ghost market. He said it was a ghost market, but it was actually a small stall of folk calligraphy and paintings in Shanghai.

In the past few years, the atmosphere was relatively strict, and everyone dared not leak these things.

It has gotten better in the past few years. Some people have some old things in their homes, and those who want to sell food and money in a hurry quietly set up a small stall in a dark alley next to the park.

Although Yuan Hongjun studied economics in his last life, of course he learned about some antique calligraphy and paintings out of hobbies. Although he can't be regarded as proficient, he has read a lot of literature and history materials and touched a lot of real people.

I came here to relax, and secondly, I wanted to catch a leak.

Yuan Hongjun came to the ghost market and spent two cents to buy a mask to put on his face before walking in.

This is the rule of the ghost market. Both sellers and buyers must wear a mask, and they will not talk about each other's identities when talking to each other, which is also a kind of protection of personal privacy.

Walking around the street casually, there are not only antiques, calligraphy and paintings, but also copper coins of the Five Emperors, and some ornaments of the Republic of China, everything that one expects to find.

Of course, this one is not as good as Pan Jiayuan's. Naturally, the truth is mixed, and it all depends on the player's eyesight.

When Yuan Hongjun came here, he didn't go up to ask the price of something he was uncertain about, but just walked around and took a look, treating himself as a passerby.

Suddenly, Yuan Hongjun saw Wang Xizhi's copybook in front of a middle-aged fat man, and he saw that the brushwork should be imitated by later generations.

Yuan Hongjun liked Wang Xizhi's calligraphy in his previous life, and usually likes to copy his calligraphy for meditation.

This kind of thing is very valuable in the capital. Although Wang Xizhi's writing is invaluable, many people think that imitations are worthless, but this is a wrong concept. For old high-quality imitations , is also very valuable.

Yuan Hongjun knelt down and casually flipped through the stack of yellowed papers. The top few sheets were copies of Wang Xizhi's copybooks, but the brushstrokes looked immature and blunt. They should have been imitated by some idiot, but they were similar in appearance. It doesn't look like it, and it looks like a copy at first glance, and it has no value.

Suddenly Yuan Hongjun flipped through another three or five sheets, and then his hands paused slightly, his pupils shrinking slightly.

He found a slightly thicker, slightly yellowed copybook, which was also Wang Xizhi's copybook, but the brushwork was exquisite and delicate, and there was a private seal in red at the corner.

Yuan Hongjun somehow felt familiar with this copybook, and suddenly his heart beat violently.

He remembered an incident he saw on the news in his previous life. A man cut off a copybook copied by Wang Xizhi of the Song Dynasty on a street stall and sold it for a high price. It can be said to be a legend in the world of calligraphy and painting.

At this moment, Yuan Hongjun's heart was pounding like thunder, and he didn't know whether this calligraphy and painting was the one he imagined, but he would rather kill the wrong one than let it go.

Yuan Hongjun suppressed his emotions, his face was still lonely and unwavering, and he flipped through a few more sheets, sighing for a while, tsk tsk tsk in disgust for a while, then put down the stack of papers, and clapped his hands Di Hui: "Boss, how did you sell this copybook?"