Jin Muchen could clearly sense that there must be some stories behind this. As an antiquarian, he naturally hoped to gain more insight into the sellers' backgrounds. This way, he could craft a better narrative for his next purchase and fetch a higher price for the items he acquired.
"Indeed, their residence seems quite nearby, and it appears you have a good relationship with Mr. Friedrich," Jin Muchen remarked casually, as he handed the African American a bottle of vodka. This particular gesture was a skill he had recently acquired.
In the United States, regardless of one's social standing, offering someone a drink was undoubtedly an effective means of fostering camaraderie between individuals. This practice was akin to the customary gestures of offering cigarettes or toasting during meals in China.
True to form, the African American's eyes lit up at the sight of the vodka. Without hesitation, he accepted the bottle and promptly took a swig.
"Ah..." He exhaled a plume of vapor, for New York City was already transitioning into early winter amidst October's embrace. In recent days, with the arrival of frigid currents from the North Atlantic, temperatures had plummeted sharply. In such conditions, indulging in a fiery spirit provided a momentary respite for those enduring long days of outdoor vending.
"Indeed, Mr. Friedrich is a renowned attorney in New York. I've been in his service for thirty years, though..." The African American's tone shifted, tinged with a hint of melancholy, as if recalling some unpleasant memory.
"But what happened?" Jin Muchen inquired, intrigued by the sudden change in tone. "Doesn't he need your services anymore?"
"Heh, I suppose not! It's not that Mr. Friedrich no longer requires my assistance, but rather, his wretched son doesn't see the value in my continued service to his father. That damned Randy is nothing but a good-for-nothing imbecile. If it weren't for my advice to Mr. Friedrich in the past, he would have long severed ties with that wretch," the African American lamented.
Listening intently, Jin Muchen gleaned the gist of the situation. Subsequently, the African American indulged in a few more swigs of alcohol. Imbibing spirits on an empty stomach often led to intoxication, and once inebriated, tongues tended to loosen.
Under Jin Muchen's gentle prodding, the African American soon divulged the origins of his antiques and recounted his experiences.
Indeed, as Jin Muchen had surmised, the African American, known as Jack, had previously served as a household servant in the residence of the esteemed attorney, Mr. Friedrich.
According to Jack, he had commenced his service at the age of sixteen and faithfully served Mr. Friedrich for a span of thirty years.
However, in recent times, Mr. Friedrich had suffered a stroke and was currently confined to his sickbed at home. Meanwhile, his unfilial son, Randy, had somehow received wind of the situation and hastily returned from afar.
It was apparent that Randy's return was motivated by a desire to await his father's demise, thereby securing his inheritance. According to Jack, Randy was the epitome of disgrace to the Friedrich family, a notorious libertine and spendthrift.
In the past, he had been expelled from prestigious institutions such as Harvard and Princeton, much to Mr. Friedrich's chagrin. Matters escalated to the point where Mr. Friedrich had contemplated severing ties with Randy altogether.
At the time, it was Jack's counsel that ultimately preserved the fragile bond between father and son. However, little did Jack anticipate that his intervention would ultimately backfire. Upon Randy's return, he promptly turned against his former acquaintances, terminating the employment of all household staff, including Jack, the longest-serving servant in the household.
Old Jack couldn't swallow his pride, so before leaving, he took quite a few items from Friedrich's house, such as the tea set he had just received and the small items on the table in front of him. This likely included the 'dog food bowl' he used to exchange for takeout with Jin Muchen, though this was Jin Muchen's conjecture. According to Jack himself, these items were all gifts from Mr. Friedrich. However, Jin Muchen had his own suspicions about their origins.
Jack clearly harbored a deep animosity towards Randy, whereas Jin Muchen rather fancied the fellow. In fact, he hoped Randy would become even more nefarious. The worse Randy behaved, the more foolish he appeared, and the greater Jin Muchen's chance to pilfer from their household. After all, as Old Jack had attested, Randy was a bona fide prodigal, and Jin Muchen relished the prospect of his further folly.
Armed with sufficient information, Jin Muchen saw no need to linger. Now aware of the provenance of these treasures, his next step was to strategize how to plunder Mr. Friedrich's ancestral home.
Returning to Fangbo's antique shop with a spring in his step, Jin Muchen found it was already past five in the evening. Seeing Jin Muchen's bulging backpack, Fangbo's smile widened. "Looks like you've finally had some success today. What did you manage to acquire? Show me."
To be honest, Fangbo was immensely pleased with Jin Muchen's recent display of talent in the realm of antiques. He felt he had finally found a worthy successor. While he encouraged Jin Muchen's weekend excursions to antique markets, Jin Muchen had returned empty-handed for the past few weekends. Today, however, seemed to be a different story.
Eager to see Jin Muchen's latest acquisitions, Fangbo examined the three tea sets placed before him. Using a deer skin cloth, he meticulously wiped each teapot, instantly transforming the somewhat dusty vessels into resplendent silverware exuding an air of sophistication.
"Hmm, these are no ordinary pieces. It's a pity I'm not particularly knowledgeable about Western antiques... This one appears to be a work from 18th-century France, but as for the rest, I'm uncertain..."
While Fangbo was an expert in Chinese antiques, his expertise in Western antiques was lacking. His understanding of these teapots mirrored Jin Muchen's own.
"How much did you acquire them for?" Fangbo casually inquired.
"1500 dollars!"
"Hey, you're quite fortunate! While I can't ascertain their true value, I must commend your deal-making skills. These teapots are undoubtedly worth more than that price!"
Fangbo gave Jin Muchen a thumbs-up.
"But precisely how much are they worth?" Jin Muchen wanted a clearer understanding of the value of these teapots.
"I'm not entirely sure. Wait here, I'll make a call."
Having been entrenched in New York's antique circles for decades, Fangbo had cultivated numerous connections. Although he didn't recognize these particular teapots, he knew someone who did.
After a series of phone calls, Fangbo returned to Jin Muchen and said, "Muchen, tomorrow, take these teapots to the SoHo district in Manhattan, to the 53rd street, and find a antique shop called Citybarn. The owner, Old Rick, is a friend of mine. He can appraise them for you. If they're valuable, you can sell them directly to him; he won't cheat you."
Jin Muchen nodded in agreement; he unquestionably trusted Fangbo's words. His friend's endorsement was as good as gold.
The following day happened to be Sunday, and since Jin Muchen had already made a successful acquisition the day before, there was no need for him to visit the antique markets again. Instead, he headed straight for Manhattan.
The term "Soho" may be unfamiliar to many Chinese, but its true origins lie in Manhattan, New York, rather than the Soho area developed by a real estate tycoon in Beijing. The full name, "South of Houston Street," refers to an area located south of Houston Street in Lower Manhattan.
Soho was not always an independent neighborhood but rather a conglomeration of the West Village, Greenwich Village, and Little Italy. Over the decades, it has evolved into the second-largest district in Manhattan.
Though "Soho" may sound chic, upon arrival, one would find it far from fashionable. Instead, it exudes a distinctly antiquated charm, reminiscent of Beijing's "Dashilar" or "Tianqiao" from the 1980s. It lacks the modernity of Midtown, the opulence of Uptown, or the avant-garde vibe of the East Village. Even the streets are not particularly clean, often strewn with garbage and sewage. However, once you step into Soho, you'll be captivated because beneath its rough exterior lies a world teeming with creativity.
Originally an old industrial area of New York, Soho experienced a period of desolation starting from the 1970s with the decline of its industrial sector. Vacant buildings were abundant, and rents were cheap. Consequently, a wave of artists and creatives flocked to the area, drawn to the vast spaces offered by the industrial warehouses for various artistic endeavors.
To sustain themselves, these newcomers converted the ground-floor spaces of these buildings into shops to sell their creations. Lacking the funds for extensive renovations, the industrial features of these buildings remained exposed, with their large cubic shapes, red brick exteriors, old-fashioned fire escapes, dark and aged water towers, narrow streets, and graffiti-covered walls.
The stark contrast between the appearance of these buildings and the displays in their shop windows created a visual discord that piqued curiosity. As more people began to inhabit the area, the modern concept of the Soho district emerged.
Today, Soho has little connection with the impoverished artists who once inhabited it. Its unique atmosphere has gained recognition from European tourists, drawing increasing numbers of visitors willing to spend money. Consequently, rents in Soho have skyrocketed, making it one of the most expensive areas in New York City.