```
Not too far away, Dong Dahai, who had been chatting leisurely with a few stall owners, had also stopped speaking by now.
Separated by a distance of seven or eight meters, whether it was him or the few stall owners, their gazes had already shifted towards Chen Hai and the elderly man.
"I didn't expect that there would really be people interested in that kind of yellow paper at this cultural exchange meeting!"
"Just a few yuan can buy a big stack of that yellow paper, cut it up, scribble a few strokes, and then sell it for hundreds to a thousand?"
"If there's such a business to be done, why am I still selling antiques and curios?"
The speaker was a stall owner named Zhang.
While he was talking, his voice was very soft, probably only a few people around him could understand what he was saying!
In his words, there was also a strong sense of disdain, and anyone could clearly hear the sour tone leaking out of his statements.