Chapter Fifty-Three: The Carved Bed

The banquet arranged by Uncle began amid a lively atmosphere. All the prominent figures of Xiasha Village had been invited, and the most respected among them was, of course, Sha Qiang’s father. Yet even he, on this day, could not avoid currying favor with Le’er, bringing wine and cured meat as gifts. Others brought chickens or ducks they had caught, adding to the merriment.

Le’er had little interest in the banquet itself, but in such a setting, he had no choice but to muster all his enthusiasm. Both tables were occupied by elders, and he went to each one to offer them wine. The wine was homemade by the villagers, light and sweet, and there was no custom of using cups—everyone drank from porcelain bowls. After making the rounds, Le’er had downed a dozen bowls.

“Le’er, not only are you an accomplished lad, but your drinking capacity is impressive too,” Sha Qiang’s father, Sha Shengyuan, said, his monkey-like face flushed deep red from the drink, though his sharp, turtle-like eyes remained keen. “I hear that officials nowadays must be able to hold their liquor. With your tolerance, you’ll be like a master turtle catcher as the village chief someday.”

“Uncle, you’re joking. I’m not cut out to be the village chief,” Le’er replied, having already noticed that the current chief, Tao Wen, bore him some animosity. Le’er wasn’t keen to confront Tao Wen, nor did he see any need. “Turtles bite sometimes too. I’m afraid of getting bitten.”

Everyone laughed. Some didn’t catch the subtle meaning in Le’er’s words, but Sha Shengyuan and Sha Shengtian understood.

“What’s there to be afraid of? You’re a skilled turtle catcher—when have you ever been bitten?” Uncle Shengtian raised his bowl, full of bravado, and drank it down. “Still, caution never hurts. Take it slow; you can’t become a big shot overnight.”

“Shengtian is right—steady does it. Even catching turtles requires the right moment,” Sha Shengyuan echoed, draining his bowl. “Now that you have a say in the village committee, you must stand up for our Sha family. Don’t disappoint us.”

The feast dragged on for half the day before ending. On his way home, Le’er walked a little unsteadily. The sun was high, heat rising from earth and sky alike. He stripped off his shirt, revealing a strong upper body. As the saying goes, morning sun, midday wind—the morning sun isn’t harsh but there’s no breeze, so it stings the skin; at noon, the sun is fierce but the wind is pleasantly cool.

The wind rustled the trees, making Le’er comfortable. He sang out as he walked, and soon reached his doorstep.

“Le’er, you seem quite cheerful,” said the master carpenter, smiling as he worked.

“Master Luo, take a break and have some water,” Le’er offered him a cigarette. Master Luo rested, but the apprentices didn’t dare to stop; they smoked as they worked, managing both at once. As the master drank water, the two began to boast.

“Le’er, your house is nicely decorated, but I don’t see a bed. Are you planning to buy a modern bed from town, or use something else?”

“You’re the expert; give me some advice,” Le’er replied with a grin. “Modern beds are comfortable, but they don’t look right in this room. Old-style beds are too much trouble to make now, and good materials are hard to find.”

“Yes, your bamboo furniture suits the decor, but a modern bed would clash,” Master Luo said, puffing on his cigarette. “I did see a good old-style bed though. Over in Dashuitian, Luo Shiwen’s house in the Flower House has a carved bed, an heirloom from the old landlord Luo Tianfu. Now they’ve built a new house and his son has made some money—they don’t care for old furniture and are looking to sell. If you want it, you can buy it. It’s top quality. I’ve been a carpenter for decades, and not even ten of me could make a bed like that.”

“Really?”

Le’er’s interest was piqued. A carved bed would look wonderful in his house.

“Of course it’s true.” Master Luo lifted his head proudly. “My eye for woodwork is unmatched in dozens of miles around. That carved bed’s craftsmanship and materials are beyond compare. It’s over a hundred years old, and the lacquer hasn’t flaked at all, though it’s blackened a bit from smoke.”

“Why wait?” Le’er stood up. “Let’s go see it now. If it suits me, I’ll buy it.”

“Heh… don’t rush. I’ll negotiate the price for you, but you’ll need to give me a couple of drinks as thanks,” the master said slyly, clearly expecting this.

“Alright, you old fox—just some drink money. As long as you get me a good price, you’ll have your drinks.”

“I know you’re generous,” Master Luo’s wine-reddened nose glowed even brighter. “And I promise you won’t be taken advantage of. I’ll get you a good deal. When we’re there, let me do the talking.”

Dashuitian wasn’t far—just over two small hills. Master Luo, being local, led Le’er to Luo Shiwen’s house, which used to be the Flower House—a term for the old homes of wealthy people from the Qing dynasty, with whitewashed walls painted with flowers, blue tiles, and an elegant look. The Flower House had been demolished, replaced by a large cement building with tiled exterior, quite impressive for the village.

“Brother Shiwen, are you home?” Master Luo called from outside. The door opened and an energetic old man stepped out.

“Master Luo, what wind brings you here?”

They entered the yard. In one corner stood a large bed, and Le’er’s eyes lit up, though he quickly feigned indifference. The bed, blackened by smoke, was covered in intricate carvings—birds, flowers, all finely detailed. The carvings’ colors were obscured by smoke, but the surfaces frequently touched shone like new, though a bit worn, the wood itself was intact.

There was a footboard, also carved and undamaged.

No one knew what wood it was made of. Beside it was a drum-shaped table and four matching stools, all carved, stacked together.

“Brother Shiwen, you owe me a drink. I’ve brought you a big buyer,” Master Luo said, his red nose twitching.

“A buyer?” Luo Shiwen glanced at Le’er, who was dressed plainly, his pants rolled up, looking like any country lad—not like someone with money. “You mean to buy this bed?”

“Indeed. Didn’t you ask me to find a buyer?”

“You mean this young fellow? Alright, young man, name your price. If it’s fair, I’ll sell it. This is a fine thing.”

“Sir, you’re the owner, so you should set the price. If it’s fair, I’ll buy it. I don’t have money for a new bed, so I’ll have to make do with an old one.”

Luo Shiwen frowned.

“I won’t ask much—eight hundred. It’s over a hundred years old, an heirloom of the old landlord Luo Tianfu. That says enough about its value.”

“Eight hundred?” Le’er feigned surprise. “If I had eight hundred, I’d buy a new modern bed—softer and better looking. This old bed just needs straw for padding, and it’ll look ugly in my room.”

“Eight hundred isn’t expensive,” Luo Shiwen said, uncertain of the bed’s real worth. “Look at these carvings—how fine they are. And the material—rumored to be pear wood…”

“It’s just a bed,” Le’er said, touching it. “Look how black it is—might as well use it for firewood.”

“Then… name your price.”

“Even half of that feels like a loss… How about three hundred and eighty?”

“Three eighty… No deal. I’d rather burn it for firewood; that’d get me about as much money.”

The old man was displeased, brow furrowed.

“If you want to burn it, that’s your choice. It’s your property, after all.”

“Uh…”

Master Luo pulled Luo Shiwen aside and they whispered for a moment. Soon, they returned.

“Le’er, let’s meet in the middle. Don’t insist on three eighty,” Master Luo smiled. “How about four hundred and fifty?”

“Four fifty… Master Luo, that’s a bit steep.” Le’er’s eyes drifted to the drum-shaped table and stools. “If four fifty includes the table and stools, then maybe it’s worth it.”

“Including the table and stools?” Master Luo looked at Luo Shiwen. “Brother Shiwen, I don’t think the table and stools are much use anymore. But Le’er, you can’t expect him to give them away for nothing. Add thirty yuan, make it four eighty—a lucky number. How about that?”

Luo Shiwen’s items had sat in the yard for ages, unused and unsold. Burning them seemed wasteful, so when Le’er offered four hundred eighty, he felt a bit shortchanged but had no better option. The deal was struck—Le’er paid, and the transaction was settled.

Le’er gave Master Luo one hundred fifty yuan as drink money, on the condition he find people to deliver the furniture to Xiasha Village.

Master Luo was pleased, hiring six men at fifteen yuan each to carry the items to Xiasha, pocketing seventy yuan himself. The distance was just a few miles, and for the half-aged laborers, carrying the load would take about an hour or two. Earning fifteen yuan in two hours was better than working for others.

Everyone was satisfied.