America's No. 1 financial conglomerate

Chapter 635 Scholars and Merchants

After leaving China Telecom, Ernst took Annie to Chinatown in Manhattan.

He was both familiar with and unfamiliar with the architectural style here.

The antique archway, the vermilion gates and green tiles, the painted beams and flying eaves of the houses—this should have been a familiar scene to him.

But it's the 21st century; he'd never seen any architecture like these in his previous life.

The two walked on the not-too-crowded sidewalk. Annie's hand rested gently on his arm, and the tip of her nose was flushed a faint pink from the cold air, like a newly blossoming peach blossom.

His eyes and brows couldn't hide his barely suppressed excitement as his gaze curiously swept over the shop signs along the street.

"Come with me for a stroll." Ernst suddenly took her hand and turned to walk towards the antique shop they had just passed.

He could sense that the other person really wanted to go in; when he passed by earlier, his eyes kept turning in that direction, but he didn't say anything.

Pushing open the door, the brass bells hanging on it rang out with a series of clear sounds.

The shop was dimly lit, with only a few retro kerosene lamps casting a warm yellow glow that illuminated the mountain of antiques, giving it a style reminiscent of the last century.

In the corner stood a Victorian-era walnut wardrobe, its glass case displaying various pocket watches and a chess piece that was unclear whether it was ivory. A crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling was covered with a thin layer of dust, refracting tiny specks of light.

The air was filled with the aroma of various types of wood, but Ernst didn't know much about it.

"What a strong sandalwood scent!" Annie's eyes lit up.

"You can actually smell the sandalwood?" Behind the counter, a man in his fifties looked up, his gold-rimmed glasses slipping down to the tip of his nose. "Welcome."

Ernst and the other man nodded in return, and Anne replied, "What's so surprising about that?"

International trade in sandalwood began in the late 16th century.

By the second half of the 19th century, sandalwood products made by Indian and Chinese artisans were being exported to Europe and America and frequently appeared at major world expositions.

European and American consumers have even imitated the East, creating a whole set of cultural rituals for burning sandalwood. Many European and American royalty and nobility also like to use small-leaf sandalwood to make objects and furniture.

In the 20th century, seeing the potential profits, merchants produced various sandalwood products such as sandalwood oil pills, sandalwood perfumes, and sandalwood soaps, which gradually entered the mass markets of Europe and America.

Therefore, sandalwood products are very common in Europe and America, and Annie didn't understand why the other party was so surprised.

"Even those who are used to sandalwood products will smell more of redwood and pine when they come here, but you can smell the sandalwood directly."

"Moreover, the aroma of the finished product is different from that of sandalwood itself. It seems you are an expert," the shop owner exclaimed.

Ernst looked away from a pocket watch in the glass case, smiled, and said nothing.

Whether he was an expert or not, he didn't know, but Annie studied Western epics, so she must have a lot of sandalwood furniture at home. If he looked at it every day, even an novice would become an expert.

Anne smiled and nodded, not acknowledging the issue. Instead, she and Ernst took a quick look around, stopping for a minute or two at each shop that interested them to ask the owner.

Upon returning to the glass counter, both of their eyes fell upon a small brass dove inside.

It was a dove carrying an olive branch, its wings etched with intricate patterns, and its base, though worn, exuded the warmth of time.

This is a peace dove, but its unique design is something Ernst has never seen before.

"This pigeon is really unique," she said softly. "What era is it from?"

The shop owner slowly opened the glass case from behind the counter and took out the collectible with his white-gloved hands: "Made in Vienna in 1914, made by Franz Kraus."

"He was a famous metalwork master during the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but he never produced any new works after the outbreak of World War I."

"Wrap it up," Ernst interjected, without even asking the price.

"And these two pocket watches," Ernst said, pointing to the pocket watch he had just looked at and another one beside it.

A hint of displeasure flashed in the shop owner's eyes, but he quickly concealed it.

He took everything out, put it in a gift box, placed it in front of Ernst, and mechanically said, "$28000, thank you."

Ernst, unperturbed by her awkwardness, pushed the peace dove and another pocket watch in front of Anne. "I hope you like my first gift."

Annie paused for a moment, her face flushed, like a ripe apple, making her look exceptionally beautiful, perhaps because of the warm indoor heating.

After a moment, she came to her senses and said with a hint of joy, "Thank you, I like it very much."

As if afraid Ernst wouldn't believe her, she quickly picked up the pocket watch, carefully unfastened the chain, and put it directly on her inner breast.

What makes this pocket watch so special is its color: a rare enamel purple, deep and elegant, with a soft sheen under the light, unlike the common gold or silver, exuding a unique sense of mystery.

Secondly, its design combines the functions of a pocket watch and a brooch. It can be strapped with a chain to be carried as a pocket watch, and a small button extends from the watch body to be directly fixed to clothing and used as a brooch.

The design is ingenious, combining practicality and aesthetics.

"Could you give it to me?" Anne didn't dare meet Ernst's gaze and instead looked at the shopkeeper.

Ernst also came to his senses; he had never really noticed before how abundant the granary was.

Just as he was about to see what the other person had taken, a leather notebook was shoved in front of him.

"This is for you, I think you'll like it," Annie's voice floated up, filled with anticipation.

It was a diary with a brown Moroccan leather cover, the gold foil pattern on the cover had faded, and the corners were worn.

Ernst took the diary in his hand and gently opened it. Inside, he found a description of events on Wall Street.

The owner was a stockbroker named Charles Stanley, who documented the well-known disaster that occurred on Wall Street at the time.

October 24th, Black Thursday. The exchange was like a madhouse; everyone was selling stocks, and my clients lost hundreds of thousands of dollars. God, when will this all end?

"On December 14, 1930, I never imagined that my life would end in this way. The wind was biting cold on the Brooklyn Bridge. In the past year, countless people who had lost their families and had nowhere else to turn had jumped from here to end their lives. And today, I will follow in their footsteps. Perhaps this is the only way out."

Ernst closed the diary; he could feel the despair brought about by the Great Depression described in it.

The diary can be divided into two parts. The first part is filled with stories about his wife and daughter, and includes some small sketches, all depicting the mundane details of daily life, a life of happiness and contentment.

The second part, however, takes a completely different turn, becoming dark and despairing.

The Great Depression of 1929 did indeed change many people and many things.

"Do you like it?" Annie's eyes showed hope.

"Thank you." Ernst smiled; he really liked the gift.

However, the next second, when Annie tried to pay, his face darkened.

"It's free. You're welcome to come to my shop and chat whenever you have time."

What does that mean?

You are all literati, enjoying refined pursuits and engaging in intellectual discussions, right?

Am I a greedy, unscrupulous businessman? All I know how to do is solve problems with money.

He was certain that he had been ripped off for the $28000 he had just paid.