Ye Fan now knew that he had the ability of clairvoyance and super vision, allowing him not only to see great distances but also to precisely track rapidly moving objects. But how exactly could he make money?
Suddenly, Ye Fan thought of the gambling industry, but it was banned in China, and those who gambled secretly were typically from the fringes of society. Not only was it illegal, but it also carried great risks.
Furthermore, the international casinos were filled with many strong players, and even with his clairvoyance ability, Ye Fan dared not risk it easily.
As Ye Fan pondered how to make money, he wandered aimlessly down the street. When he passed by a welfare lottery booth, he saw a few people playing scratch cards and his eyes lit up. Weren't those scratch cards made just for him? With just a glance, he could tell which scratch card had a prize.
Ye Fan, who had been worrying about making money, suddenly became cheerful. He hurried to the lottery booth and after observing for a while, he saw that among the people playing scratch cards, despite scratching dozens, at most they won fifty yuan each; calculation wise, they were still at a loss.
"Stop playing, the chance of winning is very low," one of them muttered under his breath, pulling his companion to leave.
Ye Fan focused his attention, swept his gaze over the tickets, then took out ten yuan and handed it to the owner, saying, "Give me five."
The owner, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, took a deep puff and, taking the ten-yuan bill said nonchalantly, "To play scratch cards, you need to buy more to increase your chances of winning. That little amount of money won't be enough."
Ye Fan smiled faintly and said, "I want to try my luck today, see if I can pick out a few big prizes."
The owner rolled his eyes at Ye Fan and reached to tear off five scratch cards for him, but Ye Fan stopped him.
"What's up?" the owner asked suspiciously, looking at Ye Fan.
Ye Fan smiled and said, "I want to try my own luck, let me do it myself." Having said that, Ye Fan reached out and tore the connected scratch cards into segments and then casually picked five.
The owner didn't say anything; luck was what mattered with these things, and there was no way to tamper with them. Besides, tearing them up made it easier to sell them individually.
"Five cards? I bet you won't win a single penny. I suggest you buy more," said the lottery booth owner languidly. Having been in the lottery business for years, he had seen it all; few people made money from buying lottery tickets or playing scratch cards. In fact, this wasn't much different from gambling, with very slim chances of winning.
Ye Fan scratched the first card and won fifty yuan, then the second card revealed a hundred yuan...
After Ye Fan scratched all five cards, he handed them over to the owner with a smirk and said, "My luck is really good today, a total of one thousand eight hundred yuan." While speaking, Ye Fan scanned the remaining scratch cards; out of over a hundred cards, only eight were two-yuan ones—he'd just be wasting time and effort scratching them, so he didn't bother.
The owner was dumbfounded on the spot, staring at Ye Fan, wondering what the hell was going on with this guy. He had only bought five scratch cards, yet all of them won, with the worst prizes being more than fifty yuan each. Based on his years of experience, it was all about luck...
Could this young man's luck really be that good?
Under the astonished gaze of the welfare lottery shop owner, Ye Fan pocketed the cash contentedly and continued on to the next lottery shop. In the following three hours, he visited three more lottery shops and made ten thousand yuan.
Gaining his first pot of gold, Ye Fan's confidence soared. The dejection from being unemployed and evicted from his rental was wiped away. He clenched his fists tightly, swearing to himself that he would succeed and step firmly on both Zhang Dahhu and Huo Zilong.
All he had done before was intervene when he saw the dissolute Huo Zilong harassing a female customer. Unexpectedly, Huo Zilong was a major client of the company, leading to Ye Fan's dismissal. The most detestable part was that Zhang Dahhu only left behind twenty thousand yuan and walked away. Considering Ye Fan's injury at the time, the normal treatment cost would have been at least two hundred thousand yuan, without any guarantee of saving his eyesight.
A surgery costing several hundred thousand yuan, and they only left twenty thousand? That was shameless.
As for Huo Zilong, he didn't even show his face, which was completely beastly.
The more Ye Fan thought about it, the angrier he got. If not for reasons even he didn't understand, he probably would have ended up disabled by now.
Zhang Dahhu and Huo Zilong had both money and power; they were local rich people who were not someone a small fry like Ye Fan could contend with. As for going through the legal process? Ye Fan did not even consider it. It was akin to masochism.
Ye Fan was very clear that to get revenge, he had to become stronger. In this world, the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest, was the primary rule.
Having gained ten thousand yuan, Ye Fan continued to strategize on how to make money. As he walked, lost in thought, a leaflet somehow ended up in his hand. Glancing down, he saw it was an ad—Ninghai City Antique City had been renovated and was reopening today.
Regard for Antique City had always been low in Ye Fan's mind. According to rumors, most of the items in Ninghai City Antique City were fakes. Of course, there was a chance of finding a real treasure, but that likelihood was even slimmer than winning five million in the lottery.
Those shrewd stall owners all had certain expertise; how could they possibly sell valuable items?
What was most important was that Ye Fan's company specialized in the production of crafts, which was essentially a small business that made counterfeit antiques. Antique City was one of the company's major clients, meaning many items there actually came from Ye Fan's previous company, and some were even designed and crafted by Ye Fan himself.
Just as Ye Fan was about to dispose of the flyer, a thought occurred to him—he was no longer an ordinary person but someone with supernatural abilities. Maybe it was worth checking out the place. Even if he didn't find any bargains, at least it would be an opportunity to stroll and get some exercise.
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After making up his mind, Ye Fan immediately headed to Ninghai City's Antique City.
After the renovations, the Antique City had fully adopted a retro style, featuring traditional Chinese architecture filled with Ming and Qing Dynasty's architectural characteristics. Even though today wasn't a weekend, there were still many people browsing through the Antique City. The shops were almost too crowded to enter, and even the roadside peddlers had their fair share of customers.
In fact, everyone knew that most of the items here were fake, but they were beautifully styled and relatively cheap. Buying some to use as decorative pieces was still quite appealing.
While passing by a stall, Ye Fan spotted an exquisite bronze statue. Its design was intricate, and it had been well-preserved. Unconsciously, he stopped to look. Having worked at a craftsmanship company specializing in design and manufacturing, Ye Fan had done some study of antiques.
It was a green Tara statue, about ten centimeters high. Judging from its style and craftsmanship, it had the typical characteristics of the Ming Dynasty era. The statue's faint verdigris indicated its considerable age. Although it had a few flaws, it was generally well-preserved.
A fifty-something year old elder was squatting in front of the stall, staring intently at the statue, nodding his head from time to time as if he was quite sure about the statue's value.
The astute stall owner chuckled and said, "Listen, old man, you've been staring at it for half an hour now. Are you buying or not? If not, please step aside and don't get in the way of my business."
Before the elder could speak, the stall owner continued, "This statue is the real deal, something I scavenged from a small mountain village. According to the current market price, it's worth at least one hundred and fifty thousand. If you're willing to pay cash, I'll give you a discount, one hundred and forty thousand."
The elder slowly raised his head, glanced at the stall owner with a smile, and said, "We've both been around the block, so don't pull those tricks on me. This statue is indeed nice, but it's not worth one hundred and fifty thousand. I'll offer one hundred thousand. If that works for you, we have a deal." The elder spoke slowly and with a firmness that seemed to settle the matter.
The peddler looked conflicted, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and then, as if making up his mind, blurted out, "Seeing how earnestly you want it, I won't play hard to get. Let's both make a concession. Final offer, one hundred and thirty thousand."
The elder laughed and said, "One hundred thousand and I'll take it. Otherwise, I'll look elsewhere." With that, he stood up, ready to leave.
Seeing the situation turn sour, the peddler hastily stood up, threw his cigarette on the ground with a pained expression, and said resignedly, "Fine, one hundred thousand it is. Are you paying with cash or using a POS machine?" The peddler then produced a POS machine as if by magic.
When did the small shop owners of Antique City become so high-tech, to carry a wireless POS machine with them? Ye Fan watched the peddler with wide eyes, then looked down at the statue – this was a good item worth one hundred thousand. He was very curious, eager to see why it was so valuable.
Just as the elder was about to swipe his card, Ye Fan spoke up, "The craftsmanship is indeed good, and the artistry is quite exquisite. It's a fine piece. If it hasn't been artificially altered, one hundred thousand is an absolute bargain."
The elder, who was about to take out his card, paused, looking at Ye Fan in surprise. After a moment, he slowly said, "Young man, do you know about these things?"
The peddler was not pleased, glaring with his eyes wide, and said angrily, "Kid, you can eat whatever you want, but you can't spout nonsense. This is genuine, an authentic mid-Ming Dynasty bronze statue of green Tara, a gem among gems, verified by experts. Don't make irresponsible remarks."
To bolster his credibility, the peddler hurriedly pulled out a verification certificate from his pocket, the bright red seal was especially eye-catching.
At this moment, if not for his clairvoyant eye, even Ye Fan might have thought he was mistaken.
The elder looked at the certificate, which was issued by the Cultural Bureau, complete with a seal, indicating that the statue had been verified.
"Young man, although I'm not an expert, I do have a fondness and some research on antiques. Plus, there's a certificate here, so it can't be wrong, right?" asked the elder with an inquisitive tone.
In front of the certificate and under the questioning gazes of the people around, Ye Fan, somewhat boldly, said, "I'm not saying the statue is fake, but that it's half genuine, half counterfeit."
The elder's interest was piqued, and he asked, "What do you mean by that?"
"This is indeed an old bronze statue, but because it has been damaged, it has undergone modern refurbishment. The techniques used are very sophisticated, so it's not easy to spot the alterations," Ye Fan explained further.
"I have a certificate," said the peddler, eyes darting anxiously.
To the peddler's defense, Ye Fan scoffed and said, "The certificate clearly states that this is a genuine item, but you seem to have forgotten to read the fine print. This certificate is for reference only."
The elder looked down and noticed that there was indeed a line of small print on the certificate, very small and discretely placed. At that moment, his look towards Ye Fan changed.
The peddler, putting on a brave face, said, "You're defaming the authority of the official department."
Ye Fan shook his head and replied, "I'm not defaming. I've got evidence."
Hearing this, both the elder and the onlookers turned their attention to Ye Fan, all eager to know what evidence he had. The elder especially was somewhat knowledgeable in this area, and he hadn't noticed anything wrong during his appraisal.
Ye Fan said, "Traditional bronze casting often uses the lost-wax process, where the inner wall residues should be greyish ritual earth or black clay. However, the residues inside this statue are blocks of quartz sand..."
The elder, himself a connoisseur, understood halfway through Ye Fan's explanation. He hastily lifted the statue, turned on his phone's flashlight, and looked inside the statue's base at the inner walls.
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