Chapter Twenty: The Barn (I) - A Visitor

We indulged ourselves in a wanton tangle of passion on the bed for a while. After a long time, I finally sat up.

“Aren’t you tired?” Mengya asked softly, gently caressing my face. “Maybe we shouldn’t go see Jun after all?”

I nodded. “Yes, I really don’t want to bother with these tedious matters any longer.”

Hearing my words, Mengya was overjoyed. We exchanged a smile, and she lay down beside me.

Knock, knock, knock. A series of knocks echoed from outside the door.

I froze. Could it be that Jun had come to find me uninvited? The thought put me instantly on guard, and I did not respond to the knocking.

Knock, knock, knock. The sound came again.

I signaled to Mengya to put on her clothes and asked warily, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Qiu. Shao.”

Hearing a familiar voice from the Antique Market, I hurried to the door and opened it. Standing outside was a man of about thirty, dressed in a colorful casual outfit and a pair of black-and-white flip-flops. He had a cropped haircut, small eyes, high cheekbones, and a rather ordinary face.

“Shao, we were just about to head out. Come in.”

Shao hesitated at the threshold, a little embarrassed. “Ah, will I be interrupting your business?”

“It’s nothing, just going to the shop. Come in.”

Shao was a young antiques dealer in the market, specializing in ceramics and bronzes. He’d worked for an auction house’s ceramics department a few years back and had developed a sharp eye and considerable expertise. Not only was he discerning, but he was also humble and even-tempered, meticulous in his work and scrupulously honest. His reputation as a good man was well known in the trade.

He and I sat on the sofa while Mengya poured him some tea, which he thanked her for before taking a sip. We exchanged some pleasantries, and I asked with a smile, “Brother Shao, how did your trip with your cousin go?”

As soon as I asked, a strange terror appeared on Shao’s face, mixed with a kind of vacant foolishness, as if possessed by something unclean. The sight sent a chill down my spine.

“Shao, are you… alright?” I asked tentatively.

Sweat began to trickle down his forehead. Suddenly, he looked up, eyes wide with panic, his face drained of all color.

“Brother Qiu, what am I to do? What should I do?” he stammered.

I was baffled. “What happened? What could have frightened you so in just half a month?”

Shao sighed deeply, and though he was a man of about thirty, his eyes were brimming with tears.

Half a month ago, Shao was as idle as any other antique dealer, sitting in his shop, smoking a cigarette, and playing CrossFire on his computer.

“Hey, what are you doing?” an angry voice shouted through his headset.

Annoyed by the insult, Shao slammed his laptop shut and sat there smoking, fuming.

“Shao, who are you angry with?” someone called.

He looked up to see a middle-aged man in his thirties walk in and sit on the shop’s sofa. It was his cousin from Hong Kong, also in the antiques business.

“Cousin, what brings you here?” Shao asked.

His cousin smiled, took a cigarette from the box on the table, lit it, and said, “I brought you some business.”

Shao was surprised. Why would his cousin involve him in a deal he could handle himself? He was at a loss.

“What kind of business?” Shao ventured.

His cousin took another drag, then pulled a brocade box from the inside pocket of his jacket and slid it in front of Shao.

“Shao, take a look at this.”

Shao opened the box and was immediately dazzled by what lay inside.

It was a fragment of a plate, about fifteen centimeters in diameter, with a third of it remaining. The porcelain was a creamy yellow, its surface covered in a web of crackle glaze, the body blackened, and heavier than typical ceramics.

Startled, Shao carefully lifted the shard out.

“Cousin, where did you get this? It’s a fragment from a Song dynasty Ge kiln!”

Among Song ceramics, the so-called “Five Great Kilns” were the rarest and most valuable. The Five Kilns were first referenced in the Ming dynasty’s imperial catalog, The Xuande Ritual Vessels Record, which notes: “The inner treasury holds vessels from the kilns of Chai, Ru, Guan, Ge, Jun, and Ding, all of elegant form, illustrated and presented.” This shows the high regard the Ming court had for these wares.

In the Qing dynasty, the famous connoisseur Xu Zhiheng wrote in his Notes on Ceramics from the Yinliu Studio: “China’s porcelain can be divided into three great periods: Song, Ming, and Qing. The Song’s most famous are five: Chai, Ru, Guan, Ge, Ding, and Jun. The Jun kiln, too, is greatly prized.” Since the Chai kiln’s site has never been found and no physical pieces exist, Jun is usually included among the Song’s Five Great Kilns. At Sotheby’s “Timeless Elegance—The Lin Yu Shanren Collection” auction, a Japanese collector, Masataka Tomita, sold a Song Ge kiln lotus-shaped plate of about ten centimeters for a staggering forty-eight million yuan.

His cousin nodded, smiling. Despite being a fragment, Shao thought, such a piece from the Ge kiln could easily fetch hundreds of thousands. He took out a magnifying glass and inspected it thoroughly. Satisfied, he asked tentatively, “Cousin, are you selling this piece?”

His cousin smiled, shook his head, and said, “No.”

Shao was disappointed, but still admired the fragment, reluctant to part with it. He sighed, placed it back in the box, and slid it across the table.

His cousin, seeing Shao’s reluctance, laughed and pushed the box back to him.

“Shao, you misunderstood. I’m not selling it to you; I’m giving it to you.”

Shao was both delighted and bewildered. He waved his hands. “No, I can’t accept this. It’s too much to take such an expensive thing for nothing. I wouldn’t feel at ease—really, I can’t accept it.” He pushed the fragment back.

His cousin smiled again. “Shao, of course you can’t just take it for nothing. As I said, I’m bringing you some business this time. I want to see if you’ll work with me.”

Shao paused, then hastily poured his cousin some tea. “Cousin, have some water first.”

His cousin took the cup, sipped, and continued, “This Song dynasty Ge kiln fragment was bought from a farmer while traveling in Zhejiang. It cost next to nothing. That old farmer also has three Warring States green-glazed granaries, but I can’t judge their authenticity. I want you to come and have a look. If you’re willing, the shard is your reward.”

Shao snickered to himself. How much could a Warring States granary be worth? Perhaps tens of thousands at most—not much at all. He smiled and said, “Cousin, those burial items from the Warring States and Han aren’t worth much. They’re old, can’t be auctioned, not much to look at, and hard to sell.”

His cousin waved him off. “No, I just feel a connection with those granaries. If they’re real, I’ll buy them as vases.”

“Cousin, those are all unearthed objects. It’s better to use a—”

He was cut off. “Shao, I just want you to have a look. Whether I buy them or not isn’t your concern, is it?” His cousin’s face darkened.

Realizing his honesty had caused offense, Shao hurried to appease him. “Cousin, if you like them, of course you should buy them. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon. We’ll take the train.”

“So soon? I wanted to say hello to your wife and child.”

His cousin thought for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, we’ll meet here tomorrow morning.”

Shao nodded.

“Cousin, you’re practically family. Why not stay at my place tonight? Tomorrow morning—”

“No, no…” His cousin cut him off abruptly, startling Shao so much he almost dropped his teacup. His cousin’s reaction was odd, almost frightened. After a moment, he regained his calm. “I have dinner with a client tonight. Never mind.”

Shao nodded slowly, studying his cousin, who suddenly seemed a stranger. The two agreed to meet at the station the next morning and take the train to Zhejiang.