Su Xiaofan wasn't in a rush to the restroom, but his right eyelid was twitching uncontrollably. The last time he experienced this was when he was eleven years old, in fifth grade. Back then, for an assignment on doing good deeds, Su Xiaofan had insisted on helping an eighty-year-old woman who had just crossed the street. He pushed her back across the road and she fell hard, resulting in a chase from the woman's grandson down three streets. If he hadn't known the area well, he would have definitely gotten a beating.,"Don't, big brother, my stall has just been set up for a short time, and I haven't made a single sale today." Su Xiaofan looked at the expressionless middle-aged man and couldn't help but shiver. He could smell it, these people in front of him all had that lingering earthy smell. When they last traded, Su Xiaofan had roughly guessed this person's identity.,Especially Su Xiao Fan and vendors like him, who operated temporary stalls. After selling an item, they took no responsibility whatsoever. There were no receipts or warranties. Because the goods sold on street stalls weren't expensive, buyers were mostly looking for entertainment. They generally knew the items were fake, so over ten years of setting up his stall, Zheng Dagang hadn't encountered any customers returning for refunds. However, in the antique market, disputes occasionally arose within the shops.。