Chapter 31 — The Stone Tiger
The small east wing where Xie Jing lived didn’t contain anything particularly secretive. He had only moved in recently, and with few belongings that were neatly arranged, the place looked simple and tidy.
When Lord Bai Jiu mentioned that he wanted to visit, the household naturally made some preparations.
Two days later, Lord Bai Jiu arrived together with Huang Mingyou, accompanied by a goldsmith carrying a heavy toolbox, who stood respectfully to the side.
The east wing had been carefully cleaned—bright windows and a spotless hall. Two brand-new wooden chairs were placed on either side of the Eight Immortals table. On it, clean teacups and two plates of dried fruits were neatly arranged, clearly prepared with care for the guests.
Lord Bai Jiu sat off to one side drinking tea, while Huang Mingyou politely asked Grandma Kou to bring out the small Buddha statue.
Grandma Kou came out holding the little brass Buddha. She laid down a clean handkerchief and gently set the statue upon it, thanking him sincerely, “Thank you for your trouble, sir.”
Huang Mingyou circled the statue twice, tugging at his beard and searching for the right words.
“Old Madam, this Buddha statue… was it purchased for a large sum, perhaps?”
Grandma Kou smiled.
“Oh, don’t call me ‘old madam’—I’m just a peasant woman. Call me Granny Kou, that’ll do. As for how much it cost, I couldn’t say. It was given to me by a young lady I once served. She was a kind soul and gave me many things. Unfortunately, I sold most of them while fleeing with Jing’er. Only this one, I couldn’t bear to part with. I’ve carried it with me for more than ten years.”
Huang Mingyou grew even more cautious. His small eyes darted between the Buddha and Granny Kou.
“Might I ask, Granny, what sort of relationship you had with that young lady?”
“She was the best person in the world. She treated me so well—her kindness to me was as deep as the sea.”
Huang Mingyou fell silent for a moment.
Then he coughed lightly.
“This Buddha statue is quite well crafted—a fine piece indeed. No rush, let me take a closer look.”
Xie Jing came in carrying a plate of freshly cut watermelon. As he placed it on the table, he glanced up at Huang Mingyou. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly before returning to its calm expression.
He had examined the little Buddha himself the day before. As a child, he had often accompanied Granny Kou in worship and remembered it well, though it looked a little different now after all these years. The Buddha was modeled after the Song Dynasty style, but the material was modern—not worth much. It was merely a keepsake of sentiment.
Lord Bai Jiu saw the watermelon and, recalling something, handed a piece to Xie Jing.
“Here, have some.”
Xie Jing habitually accepted it, holding the slice in his hands and quietly eating while watching Huang Mingyou fumble to flatter the old lady.
Huang Mingyou often ate Granny Kou’s cooking and didn’t want to offend her. If she had bought the statue, he could have explained that she’d been tricked. But since it had been a gift, and one given out of deep affection, he was in a bind. The Buddha’s craftsmanship was undeniably crude, and even finding something to praise required real mental gymnastics.
After a long moment of searching for words, he finally puffed out his chest and declared grandly:
“Madam, look here—the Buddha’s ushnisha, the rounded head, the broad forehead and round cheeks, and behind it, a rare gourd-shaped halo! According to my decades of study, this is a typical Northern Song bronze piece.”
Granny Kou gasped.
“A Northern Song bronze?”
“Indeed… though not entirely. Northern Song Buddhas were made of bronze, stone, porcelain, gold, or wood, often blending Confucian and Buddhist styles. And look here—the material is newer, so it must be a fine modern synthesis of ancient techniques and present craftsmanship…”
Xie Jing nearly sprayed out his watermelon, coughing several times.
Huang Mingyou continued spouting historical lore and references without pause. Before Granny Kou could ask further, he waved to the goldsmith.
“Come, come—look at the lotus base here. It just needs a bit of repair. I’ve checked—it’s fine otherwise.”
The goldsmith, a humble craftsman, had listened to Huang’s impressive speech and now regarded the Buddha with reverence. He hesitated.
“Sir, I’m just a tradesman. I’ve never repaired anything this precious. If I ruin it, I could never repay the loss.”
“Nonsense! It’s made of bronze—it won’t break. What do you usually work on?”
“Mostly gold and silver jewelry, sir—common trinkets. If those break, I can just melt and rework them. But this—”
“Just do it the same way as usual. Fixing a lotus base isn’t difficult.”
The goldsmith trembled as he went forward and carefully began repairing the Buddha.
It was slow work. Granny Kou watched for a while, then went to prepare food to keep Lord Bai Jiu and his guests for lunch.
Huang Mingyou was more than happy, even shamelessly requesting a dish of iron-pot stewed goose. He had come prepared—timing his arrival so the ingredients would be delivered right on cue. As it happened, the white goose was being brought into Granny Kou’s kitchen just then.
Huang glanced at the craftsman, seeing the repair would take a while yet, and turned to Lord Bai Jiu.
“We’ll have to wait till noon, it seems. Why don’t we play a round of chess?”
Lord Bai Jiu mused aloud.
“I wouldn’t mind a game, but when you and I play, it takes forever. I heard Little Jing here has quite an interest in chess lately…”
Before he could finish, Xie Jing quickly stood up with the teapot in hand.
“I’ll go help Grandma in the kitchen—see if the goose is ready.”
Lord Bai Jiu called after him, but he ran off even faster.
Huang Mingyou chuckled, watching Xie Jing’s retreating back.
“See, Lord Bai Jiu? The boy’s shy. Young Xie’s good in every way—just too bashful. He respects me so much he barely dares talk to me.”
Lord Bai Jiu nodded.
“True. But shyness is no bad thing. Better that than being like Ji Liang—he gives me a headache the moment he walks in.”
Ji Liang was Bai Mingyu’s childhood name. His father and elder brothers had used it for years. Because Bai Second Young Master was so mischievous, old Master Bai often slammed the table and shouted “you rascal!” The household usually called him by full name, half in scolding—but it never helped. The boy was fearless, wild as a monkey wreaking havoc in heaven—exasperating yet amusing.
Huang Mingyou laughed heartily, sipping tea.
“One’s too restless, the other too steady. Combine the two and you’d have the perfect lad! I must say, Bai Second Young Master’s quite the talent—clever and loyal, even if not scholarly. You should see him at the academy! When he skips class, half the students follow.”
In the kitchen
Xie Jing helped Granny Kou prepare vegetables and cook, wandering back and forth—anything to avoid returning to the main room.
After she urged him several times not to neglect their honored guests, he reluctantly shuffled back. As he approached, he peered through the window to make sure there was no chessboard on the table before stepping inside to refill their teacups.
At the table, Lord Bai Jiu and Huang Mingyou had drifted into a discussion of Song Dynasty Buddhism.
Huang was a fountain of knowledge—eloquent and tireless. He spoke of events from a thousand years ago as though he’d witnessed them himself, blending official history and folklore, examining the details with lively precision.
“Speaking of Northern Song golden Buddhas,” he said, “some were said to contain the remains of monks who had achieved enlightenment—their bones sealed within. In later generations, when such statues were rediscovered and opened, records show that their ‘golden bodies’ were half-damaged, yet inside, the skin remained intact, filled not with bones but with scriptures written in gold dust. Once exposed to air, they crumbled into powder—but the golden characters still shone as bright as new…”
As he spoke, the goldsmith must have pressed on something wrong, because suddenly—clang!—the lotus pedestal of the Buddha came loose and fell onto the table. Something about the size of a stone rolled out of the hollow inside, landing on the floor and gleaming sharply in the sunlight.
The goldsmith yelped, dropped to his knees before the Buddha, and began bowing frantically.
“A Buddha relic! A relic!”
Huang Mingyou hurried over, took one look, and quickly picked up the object with a handkerchief. After rubbing it clean a few times, he frowned.
“Not a relic—just covered in gold dust.”
Lord Bai Jiu and Xie Jing came closer. Xie Jing, less learned than the two older men, merely listened quietly as they conferred.
After a low exchange, Huang said, “Little Xie, bring me a bowl of clean water, a bowl of paste, and a small knife.”
Xie Jing fetched them from the kitchen, and Mr. Huang took some fine sandpaper from the goldsmith’s box. He carefully cleaned away the gold and moss, slowly revealing what lay beneath—a finely carved little stone tiger, vivid and lifelike, head raised, mouth open in a silent roar.
Huang examined it from every angle, frowning.
“How strange. This piece is old—has some real age to it. Here, take a look.”
He handed it, still wrapped in the handkerchief, to Lord Bai Jiu and Xie Jing.
“The Buddha isn’t Song Dynasty, but this tiger must be at least a century or two old. I can’t yet tell its origin—needs further study.”
Xie Jing, after examining it, turned to the fallen lotus base—nothing was inscribed there. He inspected the Buddha again—no markings either.
Lord Bai Jiu helped him look.
“Indeed, nothing else here. The hollow was likely carved later, and this tiger inserted through the lotus base.”
He pointed to faint tool marks to show Xie Jing.
“See here? This hidden seam is covered by the lotus. You wouldn’t notice it without breaking the pedestal. As for this stone tiger—if you trust me, let Mr. Huang keep it a while and study it.”
“Of course I trust you. And thank you, sir, for helping solve the mystery.”
Mr. Huang examined the tiger for a long time, fascinated. He held it up to the sunlight—its surface rough under his fingers, but otherwise revealing little.
His scholarly curiosity and love of antiques consumed him; the mystery made him forget even about lunch.
When Granny Kou heard there had been something hidden inside the Buddha, she was shocked. Upon learning it was a small stone tiger, she hesitated.
“Even if my young lady placed it there, Jing’er was born in the Year of the Horse. Shouldn’t it have been a little horse inside?”
Mr. Huang laughed.
“Lord Bai Jiu’s the one born in the Year of the Tiger—but that’s not how this works. Still, this carving looks oddly familiar. I’ll need to dig into the records and see what I can find.”
Author’s Note:
Mr. Huang: “Granny, was that little Buddha expensive?”
Granny Kou: “Probably—it was a gift.”
Mr. Huang: “And you got along well with the giver?”
Granny Kou: “Oh yes, wonderfully!”
Mr. Huang (rolling up sleeves): “Good! Then I can really lay it on thick!”
