Young man, care to try your luck?

Although it is unclear why the owner of the Zhang Family Antique Shop bears the surname Gao, one must assume there is a deep, calculated reason behind it.

Right now, in the open square along the roadside of the Little Qinhuai commercial district, a stall belonging to the Gao family has been set up. At first, only the Gao family's servants were bustling about, and passersby gave it little more than a glance. By mid-morning, however, the stall was fully operational.

Next, a carriage pulled up, and several people began unloading items. Only then did the crowd realize that the goods being moved were rare antiques rarely seen in public.

This immediately drew a crowd of onlookers. Even the local constabulary were invited to stand by and maintain order. A troupe of singers from the nearby teahouses and taverns began to perform, and within a short time, a massive crowd of over three hundred people had gathered.

"Still not enough people," Xia Lin muttered, clutching his mobile phone tightly. The young master of the Gao family, standing beside him, gave him a mocking look. "I don't know what you were thinking. This paperweight is nice, but it is just a paperweight. It’s too light; a breeze would blow it away. My warehouse is full of priceless treasures—why did you choose this?"

"Oh, Young Master Gao, choosing a piece like this is like buying a dog. If you buy based on pedigree, that’s business, but ordinary folk buy a dog based on a spark of connection. It’s the same with picking antiques. I just wanted a paperweight as a birthday gift for my brother. The ones on the common market don't catch my eye; only a refined piece from your Gao Family Emporium would do."

"Hmph, a penniless scholar with such airs," the young master scoffed, though his expression betrayed that he had enjoyed the subtle flattery. "Fine, enough talk. Today I shall see if all this fuss you’ve made can actually clear out these stagnant goods."

"Then you’d better price them well, Young Master. Stick to the thirty or fifty-tael bracket. Don't go putting a hundred-tael price tag on them, or you’ll face a heavy loss."

"That is none of your concern."

Hearing this, Xia Lin took a deep breath and walked to the front of the small stall, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Everyone, everyone! Listen up, good people of the town! Look over here!"

Nearly everyone turned to look at Xia Lin. He continued, "To show appreciation for the long-standing support of our new and old customers, the young master of the Gao family has prepared a special event!"

As Xia Lin spoke, the music from the troupe grew louder, and firecrackers behind them began to pop, creating an atmosphere as festive as the Lunar New Year.

"Three-Coin Treasure Hunt!" Xia Lin bellowed. "For just three coins of silver, everyone has a chance to win a fine antique worth sixty taels! Please look at the instruction board!"

The red cloth covering the placard was pulled away, revealing the rules: Each prize corresponds to a specific number of lottery balls, and these numbers are unique. Spending three coins grants you one number. Once the drawing begins, the lucky person matching the winning number takes the prize. If the winner is not satisfied with the item, they may exchange it on the spot for its full retail value in cash.

This was a gambling game, something Xia Lin knew all too well. His own salary and royalties had been drained by such things in the past. It wasn't that the scheme wouldn't work; it was incredibly addictive. Once started, it was nearly impossible to stop.

In the modern world, this was a tired, old trick, but here, it was nothing short of a paradigm shift. Gambling is human nature, and once this game was unveiled, who could resist?

Moreover, they weren't just peddling antiques; they were offering a chance to turn three coins into fifty or sixty taels—a sum equivalent to six months of income for a wealthy household. Who could resist that? It was the classic dream of turning a bicycle into a motorcycle.

The response was enthusiastic. Two hundred numbers were sold out in no time. The first round of the draw began. As the tumbler rattled, everyone’s attention was fixed on it, hearts racing and adrenaline surging.

When the first small ball clicked into place, the sound echoed in the hearts of everyone present. A graceful woman stepped forward, picked up the ball, checked the number, and announced with a beaming smile, "Congratulations to number 184 for winning the prize!"

A collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the crowd, but one elderly man with white hair shouted excitedly, "I won! I won!"

He stepped forward, presented his number, and after verification, Xia Lin announced, "Congratulations on our first big winner of the day!"

The old man had won a piece of calligraphy. As he had no interest in art, he immediately traded it for fifty taels of silver. This was done in full view of everyone, and the old man was certainly no plant—he was simply Old Guo, who sold tofu at the roadside every day.

"Alright, next round! Please line up and buy your numbers again!"

Round after round, the goods were quickly depleted, but the crowd's interest never waned. People were winning real silver. There were those who were lucky, winning twice in three tries, and those who lost their shirts after trying to buy multiple numbers. The full spectrum of human nature was on display in that square.

The accountant approached the young master and whispered, "Young Master, we have broken even. The remaining forty percent of the inventory is now pure profit."

"Marvelous! Simply marvelous!"

The young master’s face was flushed with excitement. He looked at Xia Lin, who was drinking tea to soothe his throat, with newfound awe. "You penniless scholar, you’re something else! How did I not think of this? My father was so annoyed by all this stagnant inventory. This is excellent! We can use this method for other businesses in the future."

Xia Lin glanced at him. "Don't overdo it. If you reach too far, someone will chop your hand off."

"What do you mean?" The young master was clearly not a seasoned businessman. "Who would dare chop the hand of the Gao family?"

Xia Lin sneered and pointed toward the sky. "Every trade has its own rules and boundaries. Those who have established themselves in this commercial hub of Jiangnan are not to be trifled with. If you overstep into other industries, don't blame them for ganging up on you."

His cryptic words left the young master stunned. As he looked at the teenager—who appeared even younger than himself—he suddenly felt a sense of unfathomable depth.

However, the young master lacked the wisdom to grasp the full weight of the warning. He was already mentally calculating how to apply this trick to other businesses, completely ignoring Xia Lin's caution.

Seeing the young man's dim-witted state, Xia Lin couldn't be bothered to say more. "Young Master Gao, if there is nothing else, I shall take my leave."

"Wait, wait! You can't leave yet." The young master snapped out of his dream of wealth and grabbed Xia Lin’s arm. "You are not allowed to leave."

"Are you trying to go back on your word?" Xia Lin pointed at the constables nearby. "The local officials are right there."

"That's not what I meant. I mean, you’re just a penniless scholar, but you’re full of clever schemes. Why don't you work for me? I’ll make sure you live in luxury."

Xia Lin just smiled. "Thank you for your kindness, Young Master, but I came here to pursue a career in the civil service."

He had no desire to linger. He had already obtained his "ultimate cheat"—the mobile phone. With it came a vast library of knowledge; his future was no longer just promising, it was guaranteed.

After taking his leave, Xia Lin returned to his rented attic and began tinkering with the phone. When he had written the story featuring this device, he had made it truly overpowered: trans-spatial networking, infinite battery life, and durability.

It was a trashy novel, barely even worth signing a contract for, and the setting was clearly flawed. But once he arrived in this world and realized the setting had become his reality, he was ecstatic. He now understood a fundamental truth: no matter how "trashy" a setting might be, once it is in your hands, it becomes a legendary treasure.

However, the phone was not omnipotent. It could not stop an executioner's blade. After the initial euphoria faded, Xia Lin became calm.

The first step was complete. Now, he had to plan the next phase. He didn't want to go back to eating slop with that toad, Zhang Zhongchun.

Should he pursue the civil service examinations or focus on business?

Business could buy him an official position, but that would trap him as a low-level magistrate in some impoverished district. It was the easier path—with a phone and the internet, creating commercial gimmicks in this era would be child's play.

The exam route was much harder, as the civil service exams were not just about testing knowledge, but about navigating human relationships. However, the upside was immense. Once one gained power, they could rise to the very top.

Just as Xia Lin was debating between the exams, business, or something else entirely, Old Zhang returned. He burst in, panting, "Daosheng! Daosheng! We’re going to be rich! Get up, stop lying around!"

"What’s the matter? Did you find some fresh cow dung?"

"No, even if I did, I’d bring a bag back for you to taste," Old Zhang said, gasping for air. "While I was writing letters for others, I heard some news. Tomorrow afternoon, there is a poetry competition at the Flower Pavilion. The winner is said to get the chance to dine with the Prince of Qin’s heir."

"Is there money?" Xia Lin sat up. "I’m only going if there’s money."

"There is! One hundred and fifty taels of silver for first place, and a hundred for second! You take first, I’ll take second! Together, that’s two hundred and fifty taels!"