I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Richard quickened his pace; the Sphinx lamp could not be delayed any longer.

It's less than a half-hour walk from my home to the alleyway to Clemente Antiques.

He walked south along Grafton Street, passing the department store branch where he had looked at gloves with Evelyn last time.

The window display has changed; autumn/winter scarves and hats have replaced gloves.

As I turned into the alley, the wooden plaque of Clement Antiques appeared even darker in the overcast weather, and a small piece of paint had peeled off.

With a tinkling sound, Richard pushed open the door and went inside.

The shop is still the same as before.

The shelves on all four walls were filled with old objects, and the gas lamp on the ceiling emitted a yellowish light.

Albert Clement sat behind the counter, oiling an old knife.

"You're here?" The old man didn't even look up.

"They're here."

"The light is over there, and it hasn't been moved."

Richard walked to the shelf on the wall near the window.

The Sphinx lamp sat in its original spot, a layer of fresh ash covering most of the rust on its wings.

He picked up the oil lamp and weighed it in his hand; its heavy weight was still quite substantial.

"Two pounds." The old man placed the knife on the counter and held out his hand to him.

Richard took two one-pound notes from his inside pocket, spread them out on the counter, and pushed them across.

Clement picked up the banknote and examined the watermark against the light.

The last time he came, this kid was wearing clothes that were neither new nor old, with frayed edges on the cuffs. He looked like a poor student who was short of money.

The clothes are still the same coat, but the person's spirit and energy are completely different from last time.

Clement folded the banknotes carefully, not in a hurry to put them in the drawer: "Young man, where did you scrape together two pounds in just over a month?"

"Competition prize money"

"What competition?"

The Cicero Cup.

The old man's finger stopped on the drawer handle.

He slowly turned his head, his eyes behind his brass-rimmed glasses staring at Richard.

"The Cicero Cup? The one in Beijing?"

"right."

What place did you get?

"second."

The old man put the banknotes into the drawer and stood up from his chair.

"Are you Greenwood's student?"

"Yes."

"Greenwood's student got second place in the Cicero Cup?"

"Yes."

Clement's gaze toward Richard completely changed.

The old man walked around the counter to the door, reached out and flipped the wooden sign on the door from "Open" to "Out".

"sit."

Richard moved a folding stool over and sat down.

Clement returned to his seat behind the counter, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and looked at him.

"Mr. Clement, what can I do for you?"

The old man put down his teacup:

"I worked at Stuart Auction House for thirty years. The auction house's authentication process appears to be one set of procedures, but in reality, it's two separate sets."

"The second process is only activated on specific goods."

When an item submitted for auction exhibits unexplained anomalies during routine appraisal, the appraisal department will transfer it to the second process.

"The headquarters in the capital city employs two consultants who provide special appraisals for the auction house every year."

However, the branch office doesn't have that budget. When the branch encounters suspicious goods, they either have to send them back to headquarters to wait for an advisor to be available, or the branch manager has to figure out a solution on their own.

Clement took off his brass-rimmed glasses and wiped the lenses with an oilcloth from the counter.

"Those big buyers in the capital city always conduct risk assessments before making a move."

They scramble for unique items with clearly defined functions, and people will buy them even if the price is ten or twenty times higher.

But things with unclear functions can be either treasures or troubles, and most people would rather leave them untouched.

"Transferring it for testing is also troublesome. Who should it be transferred to? How long is the waiting time?" Clement shrugged.

"Experts in the field of academic studies are even rarer than spiritual advisors; there are only a handful of professors of inscription at Imperial University."

The authentication schedule runs from the beginning to the end of the year, and it's common for an item to wait six to eight months for authentication.

"The consignor can't wait that long, and the auction house doesn't want the goods to sit in the warehouse taking up space for a long time."

Once the auction window has passed, these items with unclear appraisal results will be returned to the consignors, or sold at the reserve price through secondhand markets, antique shops, or flea markets.

He pointed at Richard with his index finger:

"This is how the light in front of you flows out."

Auction houses will package up unsold items and clear them out, then distribute them through internal channels to affiliated antique dealers in various regions.

Before I retired, I kept in touch with a few of my old colleagues from Stuart. Every year they would send me a list of leftover stock that they were clearing out.

The price was driven very low, to one-fifth to one-tenth of the original estimate.

"The cost of this lamp to me is two pounds and five shillings. I'm selling it to you for two pounds, so I'm actually losing five shillings plus shipping costs."

Richard looked at him: "Selling at a loss?"

"Not a huge loss." Clement leaned back in his chair.

"The unsold items are just taking up shelf space in my shop, so I might as well sell them sooner rather than later."

Briston isn't the capital city; this kind of thing doesn't have a market locally.

Occasionally, a customer would come in, find the design interesting, ask the price—several pounds—and then turn around and leave.

He picked up his teacup and took another sip: "Young man, I'm not telling you this to tell a story."

"If you are interested... I can call you first when I receive a list of unsold items marked 'Category 2'."

After you've seen the item in person, if you think it's valuable, you can buy it; if you don't, you can keep it. I won't force you.

Richard was somewhat tempted, as this would give him another way to acquire rare items.

But after thinking about it, he still asked, "I still don't quite understand why you're helping me like this?"

Clement picked up the old knife and continued wiping the blade with an oilcloth:

"I have two grandsons, the older one is fourteen and the younger one is eleven."

He flipped the knife over and wiped the other side.

"Both little ones are ordinary people, and I don't plan to let them touch that world."

Whether it's the tax office, the railway bureau, or a bank teller... living a peaceful and stable life in the real world is better than anything else.

He wrapped the knife in oiled paper, moving very slowly.

"But life in the real world isn't easy either."

The factory in Briston laid off three rounds of workers this year, and the job application process for the tax office is getting harder and harder each year, with grammar school graduates everywhere.

For my two grandsons to establish themselves in the city, good grades and diplomas alone won't suffice; they'll also need connections.

He put the wrapped knife into the drawer under the counter:

"I've worked in auction houses for decades, and all the connections I've built are in the antiques circle. Those connections can't help my juniors."

"You're different. The top three winners of the Cicero Cup usually do pretty well."

Whether it's a college, a church, an auction house, or even the official system.

"Once you establish yourself in the capital, the connections and resources you hold will be far beyond what a retired old man like me can compare to."

He placed his hands on the counter and looked at Richard.

"I'll help you build this bridge. Once you cross it, you can use it to get a recommendation letter from a good school or ask someone for a job."

I've swallowed my pride and come to you for help. If you can, I will; if not, I won't force myself.

"It's that simple."

He took a business card from the business card holder at the counter and handed it to me.

"The most useful lesson I've learned in my life at auction houses is: it's not the objects that are worth betting on, it's the people."

The value of objects has a ceiling, but the value of people does not.