Chapter 30: The Smart Ones

Chapter 30: The Smart Ones

The next day at work, Song Xilan couldn’t help but think about the fact that she was now in possession of a great treasure, and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling.

It was a lot of money—enough to buy two roast geese, eat one, and throw the other away. But throwing it away would be a waste, so she might as well eat both!

Juan Zi came over: "What’s got you so happy? You’re grinning like you found some money!"

Song Xilan laughed: "Hehe!" It was even better than finding money, but she couldn’t share it with anyone. Her mom had said it could easily make people jealous. "My mom said we’re having roast chicken tonight, so I’m happy."

"You, all you ever think about is food!"

"Food is life—what’s wrong with always thinking about it?"

Juan Zi: "By the way, do you have any old portraits at home? Yesterday someone came to our compound to buy old portraits, and many people sold them for money. He said he’d come back today, and I’ve already told my uncles, aunts, and other relatives to bring their old portraits over. We can make a lot of money!"

Song Xilan exclaimed: "Wow, you’re so smart! Why didn’t I think of that?"

"I only told you because you’re a good friend. Don’t tell anyone else, or he might not buy them if there are too many!"

Song Xilan nodded repeatedly: "Yes, yes, I know. Thank you!"

But Juan Zi wasn’t the only smart one in the compound. What she thought of, others had already considered.

In the evening, when the portrait buyer entered the compound, a large crowd surged forward, surrounding him, each holding a bundle of portraits they had gathered from relatives and friends, waiting to sell them.

The man was inwardly panicking. The big fish he was trying to catch hadn’t bitten, and he was spending too much on bait!

He quickly slashed the price to two cents per portrait.

Upon hearing this, the crowd protested: "Why are you paying others three yuan but only giving us two cents? That’s not fair!"

These days, everything was about equality. Even in the workshop, whether you worked or not, whether you worked more or less, everyone got the same wages and bonuses. Otherwise, it would be considered unequal, dividing people into different classes.

Moreover, these portraits were all brought from relatives and friends, with promises to share the money after selling.

"Yesterday you agreed to buy them at the original price, how can you go back on your word today!"

The angry neighbors surrounded him, ready to make sure he wouldn’t leave unless he bought the portraits at the original price.

Just then, Song Xilan deliberately brought out her picture frame: "Oh, are you not buying anymore? I finally found this and was hoping to get some money for it!"

The man saw his big fish and wasn’t about to let it go. He quickly shouted: "I’ll take it, I’ll take it. Yours, miss."

"Why are you buying hers but not ours?" The man barely managed to stick his head out before being pushed back in by the crowd.

The man looked miserable: "Fine, I’ll buy them all! But there’s just too many—I don’t have that much money. Two cents each is the best I can do."

Song Xilan then deliberately said loudly: "That’s way too cheap—I’ll just keep it. It’s only a few cents, I’d rather keep the frame and use it!"

"No, no, miss, I’ll take yours, frame and all, for five yuan," the man shouted, forgetting Jiang Jingru’s instructions to make the purchase seem casual and not reveal that his main goal was the frame in Song Xilan’s hands.

The crowd got even angrier: "You’re paying her five yuan, but ours are only worth two cents? You’re looking down on us!"

Song Xilan pretended to be scared: "I... I think I’ll keep it after all!" With that, she hugged the frame and ran home.

"Fine, I’ll buy them all!" the man finally caved.

With no other option and worried that Song Xilan might uncover the photo frame's secret when she got home, he had to stick to the original price and bought a bunch of useless junk, paying two to three yuan per portrait depending on its condition.

He felt like he was losing money with every piece he collected.

Song Xilan hung back, watching him finish with the others before finally walking up: "Uncle, I’ve got an old portrait at home besides this frame. You want it?"

The man snapped, "Yeah, yeah, hand it over!"

They swapped cash for the goods.

His hands shook as he took the frame, sensing a fortune within reach.

That Jiang woman from the dance troupe? She was nothing!

Zhang Jinbao made a living collecting junk.

Two nights ago, Jiang from the dance troupe tracked him down and paid him a hundred yuan to gather portraits in the Limin Food Factory dormitory.

The portrait collection was a ruse; the real goal was to snag a book-sized photo frame from the Song family.

Jiang promised him three hundred yuan once the job was done.

He was poor but sharp. With the hundred yuan upfront, Jiang was shelling out four hundred yuan total for the frame—clearly, it was worth way more.

So he tailed Jiang Jingru and spotted her meeting an antique dealer afterward.

After collecting junk for more than ten years, he knew the ropes.

Some folks sold antiques as junk, not realizing they could be worth a fortune to the right buyer.

He’d always dreamed of hitting the jackpot, but luck wasn’t on his side—he’d never scored anything big.

Now, his luck was finally changing.

With the frame in his hands, Jiang didn’t matter anymore. He could practically see the cash rolling in.

"That’s it, I’m done! No more cash, no more collecting today!" Zhang Jinbao, holding the precious photo frame in one hand and a sack full of portraits in the other, was about to leave.

Then someone yelled, "The cops are coming!"

Two police officers in uniform appeared before him: "You're Zhang Jinbao, right? We've received a report from the public suspecting you of disruptive activities. Come with us for now!"

Zhang Jinbao: "Officers, I'm just a scrap collector. Buying some old portraits isn't illegal, is it?"

"We’ll figure that out back at the station. Let’s go!"