Chapter 176

After returning to Beijing, Shirley Yang and I went our separate ways; she was responsible for finding equipment to scan and strip the head of the King of Dian, and to disassemble the sixteen jade rings, while this task naturally fell to me. Though it seemed simple, there was actually no place to start. Shirley Yang should have results from her side within a day or two, and since I had no direction even if I tried hard, I could only sit around all day waiting for her news.

That day I was sitting in the courtyard enjoying the cool air when Da Jin Ya came rushing to find me. As soon as he entered and saw only me, he asked where Pangzi had gone. I said he had polished his leather shoes until they shone that morning, possibly gone to a big dance. At this time, is it appropriate or not? How do you have time to come over? Isn't Panjiayuan's business being done anymore?

Da Jin Ya said: "Master Hu, isn't this why I came to discuss this with you? Just after the market opened this morning, over a hundred 'leizi' and more than two hundred industrial and commercial officers came—basically all in uniform, seeing things and confiscating them. Our brothers had no choice but to retreat into the mountains to fight guerrilla warfare."

I wondered: "What's going on? Didn't you all take care of the connections up and down?"

Da Jin Ya said: "Don't even mention it. These days, more and more foreigners are coming to hunt for treasures. Master Hu, you know this—our people's openly traded items, how many are genuine? Some influential international friend had one of our buddies set up as a foreign plantation owner and gave him a broken jar, claiming it was a jar of pickled vegetables the palace had once prepared for Emperor Qianlong. After he took it back and had it appraised, it turned out not to be that at all, seriously damaging this famous international friend's feelings toward us. So things blew up, and well..."

I said to Da Jin Ya: "We're operating without a license there, which really isn't a long-term solution. Why not find a good spot and rent a shop? That way we wouldn't have to live in constant fear."

Da Jin Ya said: "Panjiayuan's open-air stalls mainly thrive on information flow, providing a big platform for both buyers and sellers. No one expects to make money openly in the market—everyone's making it underground, with undercurrents surging."

I again asked Da Jin Ya about the blind man—how was he? Why hadn't I seen him since he came back? Da Jin Ya said the blind man was no ordinary tough guy now. He claimed to be the transmitted legacy of Chen Chuan Lao Zu, and when he went out, he had someone carry him in a sedan chair, specially telling fortunes and reading bones for Hong Kong clients, giving them guidance. Those Hong Kong locals actually believed him blindly.

I was chatting with Da Jin Ya over tea, losing track of time, when suddenly a knocking sound came. I thought it might be Shirley Yang returning, so I got up and went over. Opening the courtyard door, I saw a stranger—oily-haired and powder-faced, speaking extremely politely, calling himself Dongzi, saying he wanted to find Mr. Wang Kai Xuan.

I said: "Aren't you just looking for that fat guy? He's not home; come back tonight." As I spoke, I was about to shut the door, but Dongzi said finding Hu Ba Yi, Mr. Hu, would also do. I didn't know what he wanted, so I first invited him into the courtyard.

Dongzi said he was sent by his boss to discuss the antique business with us. I hadn't been in the mood for business lately, but when Da Jin Ya heard a customer had come knocking, he nudged me to go talk. Seeing that Da Jin Ya happened to be carrying a few trinkets, and since I had nothing else to do, I agreed to go with Dongzi to see his boss.

Dongzi drove us there. I couldn't help but wonder: how did this Dongzi's boss know our address? But whenever I asked Dongzi who his boss was, he refused to say. I thought, damn, it must be Pangzi talking outside again. Still, going to talk couldn't hurt—maybe we could even pick up some business.

Dongzi drove us to a quiet siheyuan. When Da Jin Ya and I saw the compound, we felt envious—this residence was truly exquisite. Entering the house, we saw sandalwood shelves displaying many antiquely styled artifacts. As connoisseurs, we glanced around and immediately knew the owner was no ordinary person—everything on display was genuine.

Dongzi asked us to sit. He went to the back to fetch his boss. Seeing Dongzi leave, I said to Da Jin Ya: "Master Jin, see that? The blue-glazed lotus chicken vase, the engraved purple clay square pot, the doucai scholar's ring—these are all treasures. Take any one out and toss it into Panjiayuan, and it would cause a sensation. Compared to the things in this house, our few items really aren't fit to be shown."

Da Jin Ya nodded: "Indeed, what kind of boss is this? Just looking at his style, he's no ordinary person. Why would he want to do business with us? Our little trinkets—he'd surely look down on them."

I suddenly noticed something very special in the room and quickly said to Da Jin Ya: "That ceramic piece in the middle—do you see anything wrong with it?"

Da Jin Ya rose from his chair, walked over to the porcelain, and examined it closely. It was a plump porcelain cat, its two eyes wide open, bright and spirited, but it didn't look like it came from a famous kiln, and the craftsmanship was rather ordinary, not quite matching the house's style. The most striking feature was its whiskers—thirteen of them, and they were removable and movable. The finest work was concentrated here. Da Jin Ya suddenly recalled something, turned to me, and said: "This is the kind of porcelain cat kept by corpse-carriers at home—the thirteen-whiskered porcelain cat."

In the mountainous areas of western Hunan and elsewhere, since ancient times there have been two professions: corpse-chasers and corpse-carriers. Among them, "corpse-carrier" is similar to grave-robbing. In the homes of corpse-carriers, such a porcelain cat is always kept. Before each operation, they burn a stick of incense, kowtow several times before the thirteen-whiskered flower porcelain cat. If during this time the cat's whiskers break or snap, they absolutely cannot go out that night—it's an omen of disaster. Said to be infallible, this belief spreads widely in folk tradition. Nowadays, corpse-carrying is no longer practiced, but we once saw such an item in the Fanjiayuan antique market.

In the Beijing-Tianjin region, since the Ming and Qing dynasties, there have also been members of the Nine Trades who worship porcelain cats. Thieves' households keep them, but theirs usually have nine whiskers and differ in style. "Thirteen whiskers" are found only in the homes of western Hunan corpse-carriers. The origin of this custom is now untraceable.

As soon as I saw this "thirteen-whiskered" cat, I immediately thought: "The owner of this place probably had ancestors who were western Hunan tomb-robbing giants, specializing in corpse-carrying and tomb-digging—otherwise how could they be so wealthy?" Just then footsteps approached. I quickly signaled Da Jin Ya with my eyes, pretended I hadn't seen anything, and sat still, waiting.

The boss who had invited us to discuss business turned out to be a Hong Kong man in his early fifties, short and stout, calling himself Ming Shu. As soon as he saw me, he acted overly familiar, saying we had done business before.

I racked my brain but couldn't recall any past dealings with him. Later, Ming Shu himself explained it, and I understood: the first deal Pangzi and I ever did—the "dry yellow and chi bi" transaction—was actually with a young married woman surnamed Han who ran an antique shop in Tianjin. She was the woman Ming Shu kept as his mistress.

I couldn't figure out why he had sought me out again—maybe there was something fishy. Better to avoid trouble, so I wanted to let him quickly look at the few items Da Jin Ya brought, then we'd part ways. So I told Ming Shu: "Old sir, I don't know why you're so kind to us, coming all this way to fetch us. We really don't have anything particularly good on hand lately—just brought a few random things. If you like them, keep them; if not, we'll take them back." Then I had Da Jin Ya take out a few small trinkets for him to look at.

Da Jin Ya, seeing he was a Hong Kong local and sensing a chance to make money, immediately beamed, took out a porcelain bottle from his bag, and held it carefully with both hands: "Please have a look—this is a genuine item from the Longquan kiln of the Northern Song Dynasty."

Ming Shu, upon hearing this, was also startled: "Are you kidding? This is a national treasure-level item—you just casually stuffed it in this bag?"

Da Jin Ya knew that the more expert the audience, the bolder the lies must be—but they must sound believable. If you fool them, they'll believe you and start doubting their own eyes. He told Ming Shu: "You may not know this—look, I have a gold tooth inlaid. My ancestors were the Four Wolf Lords of the Golden Kingdom, Jin Wuzhu. I am his legitimate eighteenth-generation lineal descendant. These were all seized by our ancestors from Emperor Huizong of the Northern Song, stored in boxes at the bottom of our old home in Heilongjiang for how many years—I've dug them all out now..."

Ming Shu didn't fall for it. He ignored Da Jin Ya and turned to me: "Old brother Hu, do you guys have any genuine good stuff? If you're not short on money, I can trade items with you—you can take whatever you like from my collection here."

I thought his words were clearly hinting at something—he had invited us with a purpose. But the things I brought back from Yunnan were all too important; even if you gave me a gold mountain, I couldn't part with them. So I laid it out plainly, directly telling Ming Shu that our best item was this Longquan kiln piece—though it's a replica, it's still passable. If you want it, take it; if not, we'll take it back. If you regret it later, we can't be held responsible.

Ming Shu smiled, picked up a photo album from the tea table, and said he wanted me to look at his Hong Kong collection. I flipped through a few pages—it got stranger and stranger, but I already understood: this Hong Kong Ming Shu wanted to buy a bronze mirror capable of suppressing corpses. Surely Pangzi had let it slip outside, and this news somehow reached Ming Shu's ears. He thought that ancient mirror was still in our hands, unaware it had already cooled in my hands and was gone. I asked Ming Shu: "Why do you collect so many ancient dried corpses?"