Chapter 3 — The Little Golden Buddha
Grandmother Kou had been awake for three days, and her body was gradually recovering. She had always been strong, but this time she had gone too long without food and caught a chill from sewing through the night, and so the illness had come on suddenly and fiercely. Xie Jing took out all the grain they had left and even broke the ice at the river to catch fish and make soup for her. After eating that for several days, Grandmother Kou slowly regained her strength. During the day, with Xie Jing’s help, she could already sit up and drink her medicine on her own.
Seeing her sitting there sound and well, the heavy stone in Xie Jing’s heart finally fell away.
These past few days had felt like a dream—his feet seemed to be walking on air. Sometimes, when he woke in the morning and saw the old, crumbling house, he would fall into a daze, unable to tell whether this was the dream or that was. Only when he heard Grandmother Kou calling his name would his thoughts return to him, and after blinking a few times, his gaze would clear again.
“Grandma?”
Grandmother Kou gave a small cough and asked softly, “Jing’er, that little golden Buddha on our small table—where has it gone?”
Following her gaze, Xie Jing looked over. On the small table used to stand a gilded bronze Buddha, only about the size of two palms, its craftsmanship rather ordinary—but the material was pure, solid brass, weighing a full two catties, and therefore quite heavy. For as long as he could remember, he and Grandmother had bowed before that little Buddha together every day. It was her most treasured possession; no matter how hard times were, she had never once thought to sell it.
Xie Jing lowered his eyes. “I sold it.”
“Sold it? Where?”
“In town… at the pawnshop.”
When she heard this, Grandmother Kou froze for a moment, then sighed deeply. Instead of scolding him, she reached out and stroked his cheek, comforting him. “It’s all right, Jing’er, don’t be afraid. Grandma’s not afraid either. I can still do needlework—once I’m better, I’ll sew lots of things to sell, and we’ll earn enough to redeem it back.”
“I don’t want it back.”
“Silly child, that’s the little golden Buddha your mother prayed for you—it’s meant to protect you for life.”
Xie Jing shook his head, wrapped his arms around her waist, and said in a muffled voice again,
“I don’t want it.”
Grandmother Kou held him close, lovingly stroking his hair. “There you go, talking like a child again. That’s the only thing your mother left you. Grandma promised her I’d take good care of you. We’ve already sold so many of the things she left behind—this was the last one.”
The two shared a bowl of porridge, and Xie Jing, with downcast eyes, obediently drank his half to the last drop.
These days, he had agreed to everything Grandmother said—except for one thing: he refused to go back to school.
“Grandma,” he said, “I already know everything the teacher teaches. I can write lots of words. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you.”
He dipped his finger in water and wrote several neat characters on the table, then said, “I asked Third Uncle to find me a job. I’ll go work as an apprentice in the shop with Cousin Pei.”
Grandmother Kou shook her head. “My Jing’er must keep studying! Grandma can still provide for you. I only got sick because I overworked myself. The ladies from several big households have already asked me to embroider new quilt covers—once I finish, I’ll get paid. You mustn’t go laboring; Grandma will send you to school.”
“I’ve already promised Third Uncle,” Xie Jing said quietly.
“This…”
“Grandma, the world’s in chaos. Even if I study, who knows if I’ll ever pass any exams? It’s better for me to go learn a skill now. That way I can support you—and myself.”
Grandmother Kou had always spoiled him, never speaking harshly even once. She wasn’t a stubborn woman either. After thinking for a moment, she nodded in agreement. She reached out as if to touch the back of his ear, but he flinched slightly.
“Come here,” she said gently, “let Grandma take a good look.”
Xie Jing’s body went stiff, but he obeyed and leaned closer.
When she looked carefully, she saw a cut half-hidden beneath his hair—already scabbed over.
Xie Jing mumbled, “I fell the other day when I went out. It’s nothing.”
“You’ve been tilting your head these past two days, not letting me see. I knew you must’ve gotten hurt.” She sighed. “Jing’er, the world outside is too hard. Grandma doesn’t want you to suffer out there. But if you must go, then you must be careful—protect yourself, don’t make me worry.”
“Yes, Grandma.”
*
Qinghe County — the Bai household.
Kou Laosan crouched behind the stone lion by the gate, hiding from the biting wind. He was warming his hands in his sleeves, but when he saw people approaching from afar, he immediately straightened up and greeted them eagerly.
The Bai family’s steward, however, had no time for small talk. He hurried to the gate, barking orders: “Open the doors! Move the threshold! Move it all! The master’s carriage will drive straight in!”
They had clearly just received urgent news. Everyone was rushing about. Kou Laosan wanted to ask about the apprentice position for his nephew but didn’t dare while so many people were around, so he simply rolled up his sleeves and joined in the work.
The Bai mansion’s gates were tall and heavy. Normally, they were opened only slightly and with great pomp. But now, not only were both doors flung wide open—the tall wooden threshold was removed as well—all to welcome the incoming carriages.
Someone accidentally left a paving stone blocking part of the gate. The steward kicked him hard and shouted, “If the master’s carriage gets so much as a scratch, I’ll have your hide!”
The man apologized repeatedly and quickly moved it away.
Soon, the sound of neighing horses echoed from the street corner— the Bai family’s convoy had arrived.
There were dozens of men and horses. The riders in front were tall, broad-shouldered men wrapped in thick furs, their sturdy steeds snorting clouds of steam as they splashed through half-melted snow. Behind them followed several large carriages, rumbling so heavily the ground itself seemed to tremble.
Kou Laosan, though merely a deliveryman, knew horses well. One glance, and he could tell these were all fine, strong beasts. Especially the white ones pulling the carriages at the rear—pure as snow, their long manes flowing, hooves barely touching the ground as they flew forward.
He didn’t know what was happening inside the mansion and wanted to ask someone nearby, but before he could, the steward shouted loudly, “Master Bai is here!”
The leading riders galloped straight through the gate, and the carriages followed without slowing, brushing past the faces of the servants as they entered the courtyard.
Standing behind the steward, Kou Laosan dared to lift his eyes for a peek. Inside the nearest carriage sat a large, imposing figure wrapped tightly in layers of robes—he couldn’t make out the man’s face before the carriage disappeared inside.
After the procession passed, he whispered, “Steward Zhou, who was that just now?”
The steward’s face beamed with delight, his cheeks bunching up until his eyes nearly disappeared. In a rare good mood, he lowered his voice and said proudly, “Who else could it be? That’s the one from the provincial capital—Master Bai Jiu himself!”
Bai Rongjiu was soon seated in the main hall, having been helped down from his carriage.
He was a tall man, but so heavily bundled that from afar he looked as if he were swallowed by a mountain of fur. While most wore one layer of mink, he wore three. One hand reached toward the brazier to warm itself; the other was buried somewhere unseen. Only his face was visible—handsome, pale, and a little thin. His brows were sharp, his eyes dark as ink, bright and cold beneath long lashes, giving him a proud and distant air.
The head steward of the Bai estate in Qinghe County, a man in his forties, didn’t dare sit. He stood respectfully to the side and bowed. “Lord Bai Jiu.”
The Bai family was known for its strict hierarchy. Bai Rongjiu held a senior rank, and everyone treated him with reverence. He was used to it. With a faint nod, he said, “Sit.”
The steward sat down cautiously and signaled for tea to be served. “There’s nothing fancy in this rural place,” he said ingratiatingly. “But the black tea’s decent—I had it boiled with milk, still hot. Please see if it suits your taste.” He poured it himself and added, “The tea set is a new Russian design—glass cups. Not as fine as what you usually use, of course, but perhaps a bit of novelty.”
Bai Rongjiu took a sip and said nothing, only asking for the ledgers to be brought so he could review them.
It was the Bai family’s custom to inspect each estate’s records before the end of the year. Last year, the old master had still presided; this year, things were different—the young master was gone, and real power had shifted back to Lord Bai Jiu. The steward of Qinghe County, who had worked at the frontier for years, was a shrewd man. He understood perfectly well what this visit meant: the winds of power in the provincial capital had changed.
Inside the mansion, the air was tense but orderly. Outside, things were far more restless.
Kou Laosan followed step by step behind Steward Zhou, smiling obsequiously and begging for a clear answer about the apprenticeship.
Zhou was too busy to be bothered. The master had told him again and again that today’s guest was a “living Buddha,” and he had to personally oversee every detail. The constant nagging in his ear was grating, and he wasn’t even in the mood to take his usual bribes of a few copper coins. He waved a dismissive hand.
“All right, all right. Bring the boy over on the seventh of next month. But I’ll tell you this—if he’s lazy, or offends the master in any way, he’ll be thrown out on the spot!”
Kou Laosan’s face lit up. “Yes, yes! I’ll bring him over right away!”
He handed over the written agreement. Zhou glanced at it briefly and muttered, “Always making things complicated,” before taking it. He didn’t even notice that another name—‘Xie Jing’—had been added to the list.
Then he told an assistant to take Kou Laosan to the accounting room to collect his payment.
