I feel right at home in the world of the courtyard house.

The Dong'an Market was bustling with activity and filled with lively chatter.

Li Jing'an pushed his bicycle into the market and was immediately engulfed by the bustling crowd. Stalls selling antiques, calligraphy and paintings, clothes, shoes and hats, and all kinds of snacks filled the streets, and there were also acrobats performing in the open space, drawing cheers from the crowds.

He parked his bicycle at a bike parking spot and strolled around the market. He had been here several times before, but each time he discovered something new.

Upon reaching the area selling antique books and calligraphy, Li Jing'an slowed his pace. The stalls displayed various old books and paintings, some in wooden boxes, others simply laid out on the ground. Most of the stall owners were elderly, dressed in long gowns or Zhongshan suits, some wearing reading glasses, carefully arranging their items.

Li Jing'an stopped in front of a stall and looked at a landscape painting. The painting was on silk and had turned somewhat yellow, but the brushwork was still acceptable. The inscription was by a relatively unknown painter from the Qing Dynasty.

"Comrade, interested?" The stall owner, an elderly man in his sixties, looked up at him.

"Just browsing," Li Jing'an smiled. "How much is this painting?"

The old man held up three fingers: "Thirty."

Li Jing'an shook his head and continued walking. Thirty yuan wasn't much, but he knew absolutely nothing about antiques. However, it reminded him of something—the Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching, and he should prepare a gift for Director Gao.

Etiquette is essential. Giving cigarettes or alcohol is too vulgar, and giving money is even worse. How about giving ancient books and paintings? These are considered refined gifts. Although Director Gao used to lead troops in battle, he has the demeanor of a cultured person and should appreciate them.

There's also Sun Mingyuan from the Commerce Bureau, a roughneck who only needs to deliver cigarettes and alcohol.

Although they were both on Li Jing'an's network, it wouldn't matter if they didn't send gifts. But the fact that they came to his door to deliver gifts during the Mid-Autumn Festival was a way of showing outsiders that Li Jing'an had a close relationship with them.

Lost in thought, Li Jing'an left Dong'an Market and rode his bicycle toward Liulichang.

The state-run antique shops in Liulichang consisted of two rows of storefronts, offering a wide variety of goods. Li Jing'an pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by the smell of old paper and wood.

The store was quiet, with only two or three customers browsing slowly. Behind the counter sat several employees, some reading books and others organizing receipts.

Li Jing'an walked around the shop and found that, as rumored, it was indeed mainly open to foreign visitors, and many of the artifacts were priced in foreign currency. He saw a Ming Dynasty blue and white porcelain plate priced at a staggering two hundred US dollars.

"Comrade, what would you like to see?" a shop assistant in his forties asked as he approached. He was tall and thin, wore glasses, and looked quite refined.

Li Jing'an took out his cigarette case and handed over a cigarette: "Master, I have something to ask you."

The clerk took the cigarette, and Li Jing'an lit it for him. The two walked to the store entrance, avoiding other customers.

"Please go ahead." The shop assistant took a drag of his cigarette.

"Can ordinary people buy things here?" Li Jing'an asked.

The shop assistant glanced at him and lowered her voice: "Yes, we can, but there are limitations. It's mainly for export to earn foreign exchange; the good stuff is generally not sold domestically."

"What if someone comes to sell something?"

"Welcome!" the shop assistant said. "We often have people coming here to sell their family heirlooms. We appraise them according to their condition and pay for them."

Li Jing'an nodded, his gaze sweeping across the shop. Just then, he saw a middle-aged woman enter carrying a cloth bag and walk straight to the counter. She took a porcelain bottle from the bag and carefully placed it on the counter.

A young shop assistant walked over, picked up the porcelain vase, examined it carefully, and then whispered a few words to the older shop assistant beside him. Finally, the young assistant told the woman a price, but she shook her head, seemingly dissatisfied. The two exchanged a few more words, and the woman ultimately left the vase, took the money, and left.

This scene stirred something within Li Jing'an. He glanced at the shop assistant beside him and suddenly had an idea.

"Master, what should I call you?" Li Jing'an asked.

His surname is Zhao, and his given name is Zhao Wenguang.

"Master Zhao," Li Jing'an lowered his voice, "could you do me a favor? There's a reward."

Zhao Wenguang gave him a wary look: "What kind of help?"

Li Jing'an glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them before saying, "Please keep an eye out for me. If anyone comes to sell calligraphy or paintings, please reserve two pieces for me if they are in good condition. Also, reserve a couple of fine porcelain pieces; I can't afford more than that."

Zhao Wenguang frowned: "This is against the rules..."

"I know," Li Jing'an quickly said, "I don't want to put you in a difficult position. Here's what we'll do: if someone comes to sell something, you can use the shop's estimated price, and I'll add another 20%. Just leave the seller's address, give me a call, and say I'm Li Jing'an, the director of the Second Guesthouse of the Steel Rolling Mill."

Zhao Wenguang was silent for a moment, then took a drag of his cigarette: "This is risky."

"So there's a reward." Li Jing'an took out a cigarette case from his pocket and pushed it to Zhao Wenguang. Underneath the cigarette case was ten yuan.

Zhao Wenguang hesitated for a moment on the counter, but finally took it and quickly put it in his pocket.

"It would be best to do it before the Mid-Autumn Festival. There will be a thank-you gift after it's done," Li Jing'an added.

Zhao Wenguang nodded: "I can only say I'll give it a try. There aren't many people selling things lately, and it's hard to find good stuff. I can only say I'll do my best."

"Understood, understood," Li Jing'an said with a smile. "Then I'll trouble Master Zhao."

After exchanging a few more words, Li Jing'an took his leave. Stepping out of the antique shop, the autumn sunlight was somewhat dazzling. He squinted, looking at the bustling crowd on the street, pondering the feasibility of his plan.

If we could acquire a few good items through Zhao Wenguang, the Mid-Autumn Festival gift-giving problem would be solved. Moreover, this wouldn't be considered bribery; it would be legitimate antique trading. Although the methods weren't exactly aboveboard, in this day and age, who doesn't have connections?

Li Jing'an pushed his bicycle slowly, his mind replaying the scene he'd witnessed at the antique shop. The woman selling the porcelain vase didn't seem wealthy; perhaps her family was in dire need of money, hence the sale of her ancestral heirloom. The shop's estimate was certainly low; if he added 20%, it would be good for the seller, and a bargain for him.

Before he knew it, he had arrived at Qianmen Street. Li Jing'an checked his watch; it was almost six o'clock. He decided to have dinner outside before going back.

He found a small restaurant, ordered a bowl of noodles with soybean paste, and ate while thinking about the day's events. The pile of "local specialties" at the guesthouse, the lunch party, the appointment in Liulichang... it had been a truly fulfilling day.

After finishing his meal, it was already getting dark. The streetlights gradually came on, and pedestrians hurried by. Li Jing'an rode his bicycle home, the autumn wind blowing on his face, feeling a bit chilly.

Passing by the supply and marketing cooperative, he remembered that he was almost out of soy sauce at home, so he stopped the car and went in to buy a bottle. The saleswoman was a plump middle-aged woman who complained as she handed him the items, "Everything is in short supply now, even soy sauce is rationed."

"Yes, life is tough," Li Jing'an agreed, paid the bill, and hung the soy sauce on the handlebars.

The bicycle bell jingled as it turned into the alley. The outline of the courtyard house gradually became clear in the twilight, and Li Jing'an quickened his pace.

However, when he pushed the car to the Intermediate People's Court, he was stunned.

Two figures stood at the entrance of his small courtyard, carrying things in their hands.