Chapter Fourteen: The Gate of Kindness Is Hard to Open

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Mengya and I sat anxiously on the living room sofa, waiting. Time seemed to crawl; every second dragged out like a day, every minute stretched into a year.

After what felt like an eternity, I glanced at the clock—it was half past ten in the morning. I sighed and turned to Mengya. “I’m still not at ease. Why don’t you drive and we’ll go pick up the goods together?”

She nodded, just about to head out when a knock sounded at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Xu Ning from Baifu Hall.”

Xu Ning—a name familiar to readers, I’m sure. If you’ve forgotten, take a look back at Chapter One.

I opened the door to find Xu Ning standing there with a cotton-wrapped bundle in his arms. Mengya and I exchanged a glance before letting him in.

He sat down on the sofa, his gaze fixed intently on Mengya. I cleared my throat, and he looked embarrassed. “Well, Qiu Tong, I see you’re hiding a beautiful woman away in your golden house—congratulations, congratulations.”

“Let’s skip the jokes. You wouldn’t come here for nothing, and we’re not close enough for banter. So, what’s brought you here?”

He forced a smile. “Qiu Tong, I wouldn’t come to bother you unless I had something to ask.”

“Get to the point. No need to beat around the bush.”

Xu Ning nodded and placed the rough cloth bundle on the table. “Qiu Tong, my mother was recently diagnosed with cancer. She needs chemotherapy, and we’re short on a lot of money. Take a look at these three items.” He unwrapped the bundle as he spoke. “These are three rosewood pieces I’ve collected for a long time. See how much you can give me for them—just help me out.”

So that’s what it was—his mother had been diagnosed with cancer. Such are the unpredictable twists of fate. Not long ago, when I was at Baifu Hall selling an incense burner, she seemed well enough. Who could have imagined things would change so quickly? I sighed and looked over the three rosewood items on the table.

There was a pair of rosewood cups and a rosewood brush washer. The cups were a deep, purplish red, shaped much like the wine cups we use, about the size of a fist. Lotus petal patterns were carved just above the foot, neat and crisp, though a bit mechanical in craftsmanship.

I placed the two cups back on the table and picked up the brush washer. It was a dark, almost blackish purple, gleaming thickly in the light, the patina dense and weighty. It was about twelve or thirteen centimeters in diameter, three or four centimeters high, shaped like an inverted triangle. The carving depicted a withered lotus leaf, every hole, insect bite, tear, and curve rendered in exquisite detail.

I set the brush washer down and looked at Xu Ning without speaking.

Noticing my silence after examining the items, Xu Ning offered an awkward smile. “Master Qiu, how much do you think these three pieces are worth?”

I gave a cold laugh. “Mister Xu, I can’t make sense of these items. Take them back.”

In the antiques trade, when an expert tells another expert or a client that they “can’t make sense” of something or that there’s “room for debate,” it’s a polite way of saying the item is a fake. It’s a way to let the other party save face, often couched as, “I haven’t seen enough, I don’t know.” But the real meaning is: “Your stuff is no good, take it and go.” Most people who understand the code will immediately disappear with their items. Like that boxing champion Wang the ‘expert’ who bluntly told a client, “this isn’t right, I won’t take it”—that’s actually an amateur’s move, though it can be a show of bravado; I won’t elaborate further.

Xu Ning’s face grew even more awkward when he realized I was saying his three items were fakes.

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“Master Qiu, you say my things are no good. Can you tell me why, so I can learn?”

I gave a cold smile. “Brother Xu Ning, I haven’t studied wood pieces much, and I don’t really understand how to authenticate them or distinguish wood types. This isn’t my field. Why not try someone else?”

“Come on, don’t be difficult. My family’s in such trouble, I came to you first because we’re close.”

I picked up one of the rosewood cups and pointed to the underside. “Look here. There’s an obvious layer of something on the surface. If you ask me, it’s an ancient Japanese technique—wax or something similar has been applied to cover the wood grain and the newly-carved patterns. This serves two purposes: first, to hide the true grain of the material; second, to let the wax reflect a heavy, centuries-old patina. If you don’t believe me, just hold a flame to the surface and you’ll see. Also, the lotus petal patterns and other court-style motifs here are too stiff—palace pieces were never this mechanical. These cups are high-quality Japanese fakes, and the material isn’t rosewood but padauk. The withered lotus brush washer is made the same way—a high-end Japanese fake, though the material is actually rosewood.”

Xu Ning stared in shock at the three high-end fakes on the table. He picked up a cup, pulled out a lighter, and held the flame to the foot. The moment the blue edge of the flame touched it, there was a hiss, and the foot began to blister. Within seconds, black wax dripped from the burned spot.

Xu Ning sighed. “Master Qiu, I really didn’t know these were fakes. Could you lend me some money anyway? I’ll leave these as collateral and come back for them once I get through this.”

“What use would I have for these things? Besides, do you really think we’re that close?”

Tears welled up in Xu Ning’s eyes, threatening to spill over.

Mengya, who had been watching from the side, patted my shoulder. I sighed. “How much do you need?”

“150,000.”

I took a bank card from my bag and handed it to Xu Ning. “There’s 100,000 on this card. The password is 123456.”

Xu Ning took the card, thanking me profusely, nearly to the point of kneeling. I quickly waved him off, telling him to take the three fakes with him. He refused, insisting they stay as collateral. I thought to myself, these three things might be worth two thousand at most, but I sighed and accepted them.

Xu Ning left with my bank card. I turned to Mengya. “Well, I guess that money’s as good as gone.”

“How could that be?”

“I’ve known that family since I was thirteen or fourteen. They’re the worst sort—turn on you in an instant.”

Mengya smiled. “Let it go. No need to make enemies.”

I nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt over the whole matter with Brother Green’s incense burner. I took a hundred yuan from my bag and handed it to Mengya.

“Mengya, go over to Baifu Hall and pay Old Xu a visit, bring some fruit or something. We’ve known each other for years—it wouldn’t be right not to show concern. I’ll wait here for Qi Liyi.”

Mengya nodded, took the money, and drove off to Baifu Hall.

An hour passed. I was sitting on the sofa, lost in thought, when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to see Mengya returning, carrying a bag of fruit and looking furious.

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“You’re back already?” I asked.

Mengya set the bag of fruit on the floor, crossed her arms, and sat on the sofa. “Guess who I saw when I got there?”

“How could I know if you don’t tell me?”

“Old Xu and Xu Ning’s mother were sunning themselves outside.”

I was stunned. Hadn’t Xu Ning said his mother was in the hospital, with cancer? He’d just told us!

“I walked over with the fruit, greeted the two old folks, and they barely gave me a glance—completely ignored me. I set the fruit down and asked how the old lady was doing. She immediately started berating me, saying I had no manners, asking about her health like that. I told her her son had just left our house saying she was ill, so I’d brought some fruit to check in. She cursed me out again, so I knocked her down with a punch, grabbed the fruit, and came straight back.”

“You didn’t actually hurt her, did you? Don’t let her end up sick for real because of you.”

Mengya snorted. “Call Xu Ning and get your money back.”

I nodded, picked up my phone, and dialed his number.

“Who is this?”

“Xu Ning, I went to Baifu Hall to visit Uncle Xu just now, and saw Auntie is perfectly fine. Since she’s not sick, give me my money back and take your things.”

“Who’s mother is sick? Your mother’s sick! You gave me a hundred thousand because you wanted to buy my three rosewood pieces outright!”

Rage flared in me. “Xu Ning, you don’t joke about mothers—that’s beneath even an animal. Besides, those three things you left were fakes, I explained it all to you.”

“You say they’re fakes, so they’re fakes? If you bought a fake, get your refund. If you got a bargain and sold them for a million, you’d never give me a cent. The money’s spent—do whatever you want.” He hung up.

I hung up too, smiling bitterly, and looked at Mengya. “See? Didn’t I say the money was as good as gone?”

Mengya spat. “If I’d known, I’d have hit his mother even harder.”

“Right—if you’d really hurt her, they’d never ask me for money again, even in their next life.”