The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943
Chapter 37 : Hidden Treasures

Chapter 37: Chapter 37 : Hidden Treasures

But he wasn’t just sitting around while he waited.

Instead, he drove to a secondhand market.

The war had changed everything.

Even the rich were feeling the strain.

Take income taxes for instance:

Britain’s top rate was now 99.25%—yes, ninety-nine percent!

The pinnacle of tax policy in human history.

And under such crushing taxes and rationing, many people turned to the black market for food and goods.

Which meant they needed cash—or anything they could trade.

That led to a boom in secondhand markets.

People bartered old belongings for essentials.

And in these places, you could find anything— Even a Picasso.

Pierre once read a story:

A French real estate tycoon bought a Qianlong-era vase at auction for millions.

The seller? A British family who had swapped a can of food for it during WWII—at a London flea market.

And the vase? It had sat in their kitchen for fifty years like it was nothing.

You might not trade a can of food for a beauty—

But you could certainly trade it for a priceless antique.

That’s the thrill of treasure hunting.

Who doesn’t love a good bargain?

In wartime London, even Hyde Park had become farmland.

Anywhere you could grow vegetables—balconies, window boxes—people were planting.

And along the park paths, countless little stalls had sprung up.

You could find anything: cameras, watches, tea sets, old shoes, worn coats...

Some stalls even had signs like "Cigarettes Only" or "Food Only."

Barter was king.

As he strolled through the market, Pierre scanned the wares.

Plenty of Chinese porcelain—every stall had some.

To most Europeans, they were just decorations.

Pierre, however, knew nothing about antiques.

But that was fine.

He had the system.

As he bent down to pick up a vase, the system flashed a prompt:

[Discovered: Blue-and-white porcelain from the Daoguang era.

Skill "Porcelain Appraisal" available. Learn now?]

Bingo.

He didn’t even hesitate.

"Learn!"

Knowledge surged into his mind.

Now, even as a former novice, he could immediately tell origin, period, and style.

In a market like this, that was an invaluable skill.

Pierre shook his head.

"I’ll keep looking."

He saw a few worthwhile pieces—some from the Qianlong era.

A couple pounds each.

To the locals, these were just trinkets.

Just as he was preparing to leave, a small, inconspicuous cup caught his eye.

He walked over, picked it up, and examined it closely.

Could it really be...?

Was this a Chenghua Doucai "chicken cup"?

Too good to be true.

He turned it in his hands, studying it.

The stall owner didn’t even glance his way.

The base bore a six-character seal script mark, heavy lines and deep glaze...

But in all honesty, Pierre still couldn’t be sure.

He was no expert.

And with how many imitations had been made over the centuries, a fake was more likely than not.

Still—everyone loves the idea of striking gold.

Suppressing his excitement, he asked,

"Sir, how much for this cup?"

The old man lazily tapped a sign with his cane:

"Barter only."

Perfect.

Pierre pulled out a sealed pack of Camel cigarettes.

"I’ll trade you this for the cup. And..."

He pointed to a small abstract oil painting the size of a book.

"That one too."

It would look nice hanging in the dining room.

The old man’s eyes lit up when he saw the cigarettes.

"Deal!" he said instantly.

A pack of smokes in exchange for a Chenghua-style chicken cup worth £200 million?

Totally worth it.

Even if it wasn’t genuine... still a steal.

He carefully wrapped the cup and tucked it away.

As he picked up the painting, the system lit up again:

[Congratulations. You’ve bartered one pack of cigarettes for:

– Qing Dynasty imitation of a Chenghua Doucai Chicken Cup

– Original Picasso oil painting

Skill "Art Appraisal" available. Learn now?]

New skill unlocked!

The cup turned out to be a Qing Dynasty replica, so not exactly a family heirloom.

A little disappointing, sure.

But the painting?

A genuine Picasso.

Now that was real money.

At a secondhand market, you never know what you’ll find.

And you certainly never know what new skills you might unlock!

Porcelain, artwork, bronze relics...

[Recent imitation of a Western Zhou bronze vessel. Aged in a latrine pit for patina enhancement...]

When this system alert popped up, Pierre almost dropped the piece right then and there.

A chamber pot bronze?!

And yet the seller still touted it proudly:

"100 packs of Camel cigarettes, sir! Just 100 packs! My father bought this in China—it’s thousands of years old!"

Yeah, sure.

His dad probably got scammed by some antique peddler specializing in ripping off clueless foreigners.

Pierre remembered seeing a documentary once: from the day China opened its doors to the West, there were always local pros making fake antiques just to fool Westerners.

Their logic?

If you don’t scam those clueless "foreign devils," you’re letting down your ancestors.

"Sorry, sir. I just don’t have that many cigarettes. A real shame—it’s a fine piece..."

Pierre gave a regretful shake of his head and moved on.

He’d already been browsing for half a day and had scored quite a haul: aside from the Picasso, he’d picked up over twenty porcelain items from the Ming and Qing dynasties, mostly Kangxi and Qianlong-era pieces.

The system hadn’t assigned any specific value, nor had it awarded experience for the transactions—likely because it had helped him appraise the items.

But that didn’t bother him.

He now had heirlooms.

"Even just that one vase... in a few decades, it’ll be worth at least two small fortunes."

Marveling at how this war-torn market was practically littered with treasure, Pierre made his way toward the park exit.

And then—he froze.

His 20/10 vision kicked in.

Among a stack of books, one stood out.

If it weren’t for the yellowed cover and vertical text, nestled among a sea of English titles, he never would’ve noticed.

But now?

He was rooted in place.

After a stunned moment, he forced himself to walk calmly toward the stall, which was run by an elderly British woman.