Chapter Thirteen: The Buddha Head of Gandhara

We listened to Tian Minwei recount the story of his duel ten years ago with the renowned “boxer” of the Institute of Art and Archaeology, the illustrious expert Wang Da. All of us burst into laughter at the tale. Qi Liyie commented, “It’s just how our Director Luo’s master is. If you can’t tell what’s real or fake, it’s perfectly normal.”

I smiled, then turned to Tian Minwei beside me. “Uncle Tian, have you and Auntie finished viewing the preview?”

“We’ve just arrived, and bumped into you as soon as we entered, didn’t we?”

I nodded. “Uncle Tian, why don’t we go together?”

Under Qi Liyie’s lead, we walked toward the central exhibition area. It was arranged like a traditional courtyard, exuding an ancient charm, refined yet noble. In the very center, at the moon gate, hung a wooden plaque carved with three large characters: “Jichang Garden.”

“Gentlemen, this is the special auction session of fine porcelain and miscellanea, themed ‘Jichang Garden,’ organized by our auction house. The Jichang Garden now stands on the eastern slopes of Mount Hui in the western suburbs of Wuxi, within Xihui Park, adjacent to Huishan Temple. In the nineteenth year of the Wanli era of the Ming Dynasty, that is, 1591 AD, Qin Yao chose the name ‘Jichang’ from a verse by Wang Xizhi, ‘Seek delight in benevolence and wisdom, find joy in mountains and streams.’ The Kangxi and Qianlong Emperors of the Qing Dynasty both visited Jichang Garden many times, composing poems here, which shows their affection and appreciation for it. The Xiequ Garden in the Summer Palace in Beijing, the Kuoran Dagong in the Old Summer Palace—now called the Twin Crane Studio—were both modeled after Jichang Garden in Wuxi.”

Listening to Qi Liyie’s introduction to the garden’s history, both Uncle Tian and I felt genuine admiration for his erudition. Uncle Tian couldn’t help but nod with a smile.

“Liyie, I didn’t expect someone just over thirty to be so knowledgeable. You’ve really done your homework—impressive, truly impressive. The younger generation is astounding.”

Qi Liyie smiled modestly. “Thank you, Brother Tian, for your praise. This auction focuses on porcelain and jade treasures from the imperial workshops of the Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong periods.”

We nodded and followed him to browse the collection. The overall quality was quite good; though there were a few forgeries, it was understandable.

After leaving the courtyard in the center, Qi Liyie led us into a black-walled room. As soon as we entered, the sound of Buddhist chanting washed over us from all sides. In the darkness ahead, various Buddhist statues stood illuminated under spotlights, as though we had wandered into the Western Pure Land, the atmosphere amplified by the resonant chanting.

We walked deeper into the room, weaving among the statues. Suddenly, I was drawn to a damaged Buddha statue ahead. I approached and saw, on the display, a male Buddha head carved from black stone, over forty centimeters in diameter, held upright by an iron stand. Unlike the other statues, not only was its material different, but the face itself was distinct from the typical Central Plains style, possessing features reminiscent of Greek stone sculptures—almost un-Chinese.

As I gazed at the Buddha head, a sudden dizziness overtook me; the world spun. I shook my head and quickly called Qi Liyie over. “Liyie, what’s the starting price for this Gandhara Buddha head?”

“Four hundred thousand.”

I nodded, took a platinum bank card from my bag, and handed it to him. “Liyie, no matter the cost, you must help me secure this Buddha head.”

Qi Liyie froze, puzzled. “Master Qiu, though it’s quite old, it isn’t particularly rare, and its condition is poor. For your collection…”

I waved him off, rubbing my forehead, my irritation growing. “Just buy it. It’s not your money anyway.”

Sensing something off about me, Qi Liyie fell silent. I gestured. “Liyie, take Uncle Tian and Auntie with you. I’ll stay here and look around a bit longer.”

Uncle Tian noticed my pallor and hurried over. “Qiu Tong, are you all right?”

“It’s nothing, just skipped breakfast and my blood sugar is low.”

Auntie Wang quickly produced a piece of chocolate from her bag and handed it to me. “Here, eat this. You’ll feel better.”

I nodded, signaling them to go on ahead. Seeing that Mengya was still with me, they left the Buddha room with Qi Liyie.

Mengya, who stood by, patted me gently on the back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

I pointed to the Gandhara Buddha head. “Look at that Buddha head.”

Mengya stepped closer, examined it carefully, and suddenly shivered. “How can this be? Why is it here?”

My face was grave as I sighed helplessly. “If it’s meant to be, it will be. If misfortune comes, there’s no escaping it. Thankfully, we came to the preview.”

Mengya looked at me, concern written all over her face. “Shall we go home? We’ve already asked Qi Liyie to bid for us.”

I nodded weakly. She helped me out of the dark room, and we drove home, leaving the Beijing International Hotel Conference Center behind.

Back home, I felt restless, my heart racing as if out of rhythm. Mengya made me a cup of instant coffee in the kitchen and handed it to me. “Don’t dwell on it. As long as we buy the Buddha head, nothing will happen.”

I looked at her, sighed, and felt my nose sting. I fought back tears. “I really feel sorry for you. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

Mengya smiled sweetly at me from across the table. “Qiu Tong, why are you getting softer with age? Even your eyes are getting watery. I told you yesterday—whatever I do for you, I’ll never regret it. I love you. Even if I die for you, I have no complaints.” As she spoke, she embraced me, her delicate hand stroking my hair. “It’ll be all right. I’m here.”

I let myself sink into her warm embrace, a few tears slipping from my eyes as I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I don’t know how much time passed before I groggily awoke in darkness. Looking around, I realized Mengya was no longer beside me.

“Mengya. Mengya.”

I called her name a few times—no answer. I sat up in bed, looked around, and called again—still nothing.

I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Rising from bed, I checked the foyer—no one. The kitchen—empty. But as I passed the bathroom, a heavy smell of blood wafted out.

I froze, inching toward the bathroom. Suddenly, I heard a thud—a heavy object hitting the floor—followed by the sound of something round rolling.

I nearly collapsed in fright, but steadied myself and crept toward the door. The lights inside were off, the door shut tight. From behind it came a faint, creaking sound. I didn’t have the courage to open it and was just about to slip away.

Just then, with a click, the bathroom light snapped on. My heart lurched and I sank to the floor, paralyzed with fear.

A sudden clatter—the door swung open from within. I almost fainted from terror.

From inside came Mengya’s voice. “Qiu Tong, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting on the floor?”

I looked up to see her sitting on the toilet.

“What were you doing?”

“Using the bathroom. My period started these days—I felt awful and got up to take care of it.”

Only then did I exhale deeply, wipe the cold sweat from my brow, and nod at her. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was just after four. I shook my head, returned to bed, and fell back into sleep.

We were still sleeping soundly when Buddhist chanting began to play by my ear. I sat up, bleary-eyed, and realized it was my phone. The caller was Qi Liyie.

“Can’t you change your ringtone? Every day it sounds like a ritual,” Mengya grumbled.

I answered, and Qi Liyie’s voice came through.

“Master Qiu, the Gandhara Buddha head has been secured—the hammer price was 490,000, with commission totaling 570,000.”

I acknowledged him, told him to pay with my card, and deliver the item to my home.

I hung up and exhaled with relief, patting Mengya beside me. “Mengya, we got the Buddha head.”

She also sighed. “Let’s hope nothing goes wrong.”