Dragging my suitcase through the north gate into the market, the first thing I saw was the large tented section. Good lord, I remember it happened to be a Saturday—saying the place was packed would be an understatement.
Vajra bodhi seeds, amber, turquoise, porcelain, assorted curios, jade jewelry, bronze ware, weapons, stone carvings, ink rubbings, embroidery, calligraphy, and paintings—they really had everything. It was an eye-opening experience, dazzling and overwhelming.
Of course, most of it was fake. Genuine items were few and far between in the stalls under those tents.
Amused, I thought to myself, "Since everything here is fake, and my items were all collected by me—real antiques—they should sell quickly, right?"
Noticing an empty stall in the tent, I decided to take out my things and set up shop.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?!"
A bald vendor next to me stopped me.
"Setting up a stall," I said.
"Setting up a stall? Is this your spot? Get out of here, kid! Scram!"
Gritting my teeth, I said, "I want to set up a stall. Is this your spot? I'll pay you. How much do you want?"
The bald man's eyes shifted shrewdly, and he immediately smiled. "A hundred bucks. Give me a hundred, and you can set up here."
"What? A hundred bucks?!"
"How is it so expensive?!"
He said with a sidelong glance, "This is the price. If you're not setting up, then get lost. Don't block me from doing business."
I had less than a hundred yuan left in my pocket. Gritting my teeth, I bargained with him and ended up giving him ninety.
Now, I only had three yuan left on me.
The bald man took the money and couldn't stop smiling.
Little did I expect, just as I spread out my stall and had only set up half of my items, the loudspeaker in the antique market started blaring.
"Dear visitors and merchants, Panjiayuan Secondhand Market has reached closing time. Please take your personal belongings and leave the market in an orderly manner. We wish you a pleasant shopping experience and prosperous business."
As soon as the announcement sounded, the surrounding stall owners began packing up.
I was dumbfounded—I hadn't even finished setting up yet!
Fuming, I said to the bald man, "Give me my money back! The market is closing now, and I haven't even started setting up!"
"Pah!"
The bald man spat and scowled at me, swearing, "Damn you! What do you mean you haven't set up? You've already laid out your cloth! That counts as setting up! Don't even think about getting a refund!"
My eyes reddened with frustration. In the heat of the moment, I clutched his arm and refused to let go, demanding that he return the money.
"Screw you, you little brat!"
He kicked me hard in the stomach.
I was still young at the time—how could I possibly fight this bald man? The pain was so intense I couldn't even straighten my back.
The crowd around us thinned out as everyone packed their stalls into tricycks and left. The bald man who kicked me was gone too.
It was the depths of winter. Although Beijing wasn't as cold as Mohe, the nights were still freezing.
A market security guard, pulling a large dog, kept urging me to hurry up with packing, warning that I'd be fined if I was late.
The days were short and the nights long. By the time I dragged my suitcase out of the market, it was already dark.
I was cold and hungry, with only three yuan left to my name.
I sat on a roadside bench for half an hour and learned that there was an internet café near Huawei Qiaoxili, about two kilometers away.
I dragged my suitcase there, only to find out the cheapest overnight package cost ten yuan, which I couldn't afford. My plan to stay at the café fell apart. It was freezing outside, and I couldn't bear it anymore, so I pulled my suitcase into an ATM vestibule for shelter.
Occasionally, people came in to withdraw money, giving me strange looks. The floor was icy cold, and I couldn't sleep, so I pulled my padded coat's hood over my head and curled up in the corner. After a couple of hours, someone tapped me. I looked up to see a woman in her fifties holding a small white dog—probably a local resident from Jinsong. "Young man, why are you sleeping here in this cold weather?" she asked. "I just bought two baked pancakes, and they're still warm. If you don't mind, you can have them. I'll leave them here for you," she said, shaking her head as she placed the plastic bag on the red fire extinguisher box. After she left, my growling stomach got the better of me, and I took the bag. The pancakes, covered in sesame seeds, were crispy and fragrant. As I ate, tears rolled down my face. "Am I really going to give up like this?" I thought. "If I go back, won't people look down on my family even more?" "No, they won't," I told myself repeatedly, "Xiang Yunfeng, you will become rich!" At 8 a.m., I returned to Panjiayuan. Without money for a stall, I wandered around with my suitcase. Whenever I spotted someone interested in porcelain, I approached and asked, "Sir, would you like to look at my porcelain? They're all antiques, and I'll sell them at a fair price." Just then, the market loudspeaker announced again: "Attention, visitors: Please beware of unscrupulous vendors following you. Keep an eye..."