Chapter Nineteen: Reforging the Golden Body

Qiu Xi informed everyone that there was finally some progress in the case of the stolen Guanyin statue. Based on Li Yiting’s suggestion and his own investigations, Qiu Xi had determined that Zhang Jin from Yuan Village had both the motive and ample opportunity to commit the crime.

Zhang Jin had indeed injured his left leg, but that didn’t keep him from driving his automatic transmission van. Besides his family’s claim that he’d been bedridden for over a month, there was no concrete proof he hadn’t left the house. Qiu Xi had carefully examined the tire tracks of Zhang Jin’s vehicle and found they appeared in several places: near his home, on the school playground, and most notably, close to the Guanyin Temple.

In the countryside, vehicles were few and such off-road vans even fewer, making the tire marks easy to identify without much cross-checking. With Zhang Jin as a primary suspect, another problem surfaced: while he could drive and transport the statue, it was doubtful he could pull off the theft alone. Who, then, were his accomplices?

To avoid alerting the suspects, Qiu Xi decided to take his time—keeping Zhang Jin under close surveillance and hoping to unravel the entire group in one sweep.

His next target was the Mute. Communicating would be a challenge, but Qiu Xi wasn’t easily deterred. He’d once studied sign language, and though only at an amateur level, he understood the basics of nonverbal communication.

He tried to converse with the Mute once, along the mountain path, but the attempt was fruitless. The Mute seemed uninterested, the two exchanged a series of confused gestures, and the Mute, shaking his head in incomprehension, strode away.

Qiu Xi was left more frustrated—clearly, the Mute was even less adept at sign language, his gestures awkward and full of errors.

Fortunately, by piecing together hints, Qiu Xi learned at least that the Mute wanted to go into the mountains to practice his skills undisturbed.

Qiu Xi had no intention of rushing things, so after a few minutes’ effort, he let it go.

Everyone praised Qiu Xi for his effective detective work. This time, he didn’t demur—the facts spoke for themselves.

Li Tian warmly invited Qiu Xi to her home, but he politely declined. She sensed his shyness and didn’t insist.

Back at home, Li Yiting heard from his father that, to ensure the villagers could pay respects to Guanyin during the New Year, they had decided to commission a new statue.

This new Guanyin wouldn’t have a historical date, nor would it be a gilded bronze figure. Instead, it would be carved from the root of a local, precious yew tree—a protected national species. The master craftsman chosen was the most renowned woodworker in Luoshui Village, Li Qiumao.

Preparations had begun the day Li Qiwen was buried. With only two days for completion, time was tight. The wood had already been prepared; the villagers who attended the funeral sawed it into suitable lengths to be taken to Li Village. Fifth Uncle Li Qiumao, however, objected to this plan.

He insisted the work be done in the mountains, where he could work undisturbed and ensure the statue would be finished before the New Year’s Day.

Li Qiumao’s "mountains" meant his own woodland, about five li from the village. There, he had built an "underground workshop" where he completed many intricate woodworks.

Li Qiumao was known as “the Wood Madman”—a term of respect.

Once the task was assigned, the villagers quickly transported the wood to his workshop. Li Qiumao sent his son, Li Fuyu, home with a message and settled into the mountain workshop, racing against time.

Li Qiumao didn’t let his son help. Li Fuyu seemed not to have inherited his father's talent and was completely clueless about woodworking. Li Qiumao didn’t mind; woodworking wasn’t exactly a promising career, so he’d encouraged his son to focus on his studies instead. Li Fuyu had a sister ready for marriage, who usually helped their mother with farmwork and occasionally assisted her father.

Who would have thought, after graduating from university, Li Fuyu would become a "boomerang kid," now approaching thirty, and still unemployed years after graduation. Worse yet, in the past year he’d claimed to be studying for graduate exams at home, saying his bachelor's degree was too low.

Li Qiumao was furious and scolded his son, “I didn’t even finish elementary school, yet I raised both you and your sister just fine! You’re always looking for something better, never satisfied with what you have.”

Li Fuyu’s mother, however, wholeheartedly supported him. She didn’t mind his staying home or relying on his parents; after all, he kept her company.

Most of the couple’s quarrels revolved around their son’s future, and these spats had gone on for over a decade, sometimes escalating into physical altercations.

One day, after another fight—his wife, fierce as ever, struck his leg with a stool, nearly breaking a bone—Li Qiumao stormed off to live in the mountain workshop for several days. If not for Li Qiwen’s funeral, he might not have returned at all.

Thus, his decision to take on the carving job and work at the mountain workshop served multiple purposes—chief among them, avoiding home.

Carving a Guanyin statue was no great challenge for a craftsman of his caliber. Working late into the night, by New Year’s Eve the framework was complete, leaving only the most crucial detail—the face, especially the eyes.

Once the statue was placed in the temple, it was the face the villagers would see. With his carving knife, Li Qiumao carefully shaped each feature: the contours, lips, nose, ears, brow. He was about to carve the eyes—

Suddenly, a faint noise came from outside. To his focused mind, it sounded loud.

He paused, listening intently, but the sound didn’t repeat. Li Qiumao smiled to himself—perhaps a pheasant, a rabbit, or a bird had just flown away.

Wildlife was common here; lucky hunters might even encounter wild boar, leopards, or muntjacs.

About half an hour later, two bright eyes appeared beneath the statue’s brow. Li Qiumao exhaled in relief—the initial work was done.

He examined his work critically. Still not entirely satisfied, but sufficient for its purpose. Perfectionist as he was, he decided to take a walk to clear his head before refining the details.

By coincidence—

Another noise sounded outside, louder this time. Li Qiumao’s eyes brightened—something large was moving. Could it be a muntjac?

He quickly grabbed the shotgun from by the wall, pushed open the wooden door, and rushed out. A black shadow vanished into the shrubbery.

He suddenly remembered that he hadn’t brought his hunting dog this time—he was here to work, not hunt. Without a dog, could he track his quarry? He hesitated, then decided this was too good a chance to pass up.

Even in these mountains, good prey was a matter of luck.

Without further thought, he crouched low and followed the direction the shadow had fled. Though he saw little, the bent grass and undergrowth left a clear trail.

It was almost as if the animal was guiding him—truly remarkable! Li Qiumao felt a surge of excitement.

A sudden rustle in the brush not far ahead made him quicken his pace, shotgun at the ready. The shadow loomed, taller than a man, sleek and swift.

Today would be a lucky day!

He pulled the trigger. A violent flash burst from the muzzle, metal rods and pellets spraying outward. Almost simultaneously, the ground beneath his feet gave way and he plunged down as if he were a sack—

Thud, splat, a cry of pain!

Strange sounds echoed from four or five meters below ground.

Then silence.

Noon on New Year’s Eve. The season of holiday enjoyment had truly begun.

After a year of hard work, it was time to sit and rest.

In Li Yiting’s home, two large tables were laden with delicacies—a basin of angelica-stewed rooster as the centerpiece, surrounded by smoked duck, cured meats, steamed fish, and more.

With a large family, this was not extravagant; all the dishes had been prepared over the previous week, so cooking was a simple matter.

Li Qihuai, beaming, brought out two large jugs of yellow rice wine, a full ten jin. There were plenty of men in the family, so it was hardly excessive. He even opened two fifty-jin casks of ten-year-old aged wine, originally reserved for his daughter’s wedding or son’s marriage, unable to wait any longer.

Their mother had no objections; nothing could make her happier than such a lively reunion.

As the feast was about to begin, Li Tian suddenly had a thought and slipped outside, telling the family to wait a bit. Ten minutes later, she returned leading a guest.

Everyone broke into laughter—what dedication! Qiu Xi, unfamiliar with Luoshui Village customs, had spent the morning waiting outside Xun Yuanchun’s door, convinced the man would open up on New Year’s Eve. He waited past lunch with no sign of life; repeated knocking went unanswered. Had Xun Yuanchun fled out of guilt? Qiu Xi wondered if the man was involved in the theft.

He couldn’t be sure, but he was keen to meet him—perhaps a trace of youthful impulsiveness. Had hunger not forced his hand, he might not have left. As he trudged slowly past Li Yiting’s house, Li Tian spotted him.

In fact, Li Tian had checked outside several times, sensing she would meet him again—and she was right.

This time, Qiu Xi couldn’t refuse. A chance encounter trumped a formal invitation. The case had progressed, and he found himself somewhat drawn to Li Tian. More importantly, he was curious about Li Yiting’s group.

He wasn’t naive; he’d simply been too focused on the case to notice until now that Li Yiting’s companions were hardly ordinary.

If they were friends, all the better—he decided to probe further. Thus, Qiu Xi stayed for the New Year’s Eve lunch at Li Yiting’s home.

Another guest, another pair of chopsticks—Li Qihuai was delighted. He liked the young man, and as a father, he sensed his daughter’s feelings too. Yet examining Qiu Xi’s face, he guessed his daughter was four or five years older, and she’d already been married once. He felt a bit uneasy.

Perhaps modern thinking could overcome such conventions—one could only hope.

Everyone grew more comfortable as the meal went on, the conversation flowing freely, the wine pouring generously.

Yellow rice wine’s effects crept up quietly.

At first, talk was light. As the drink took hold, so did candor, and soon the conversation turned naturally to the case. Though no one’s identity was clear, their professional kinship was apparent.

Qiu Xi mentioned Xun Yuanchun several times. The others had little to add, but Li Qihuai became animated.

He said, “Xun Yuanchun might seem eccentric, but he truly has some skill. No one in our village doubts his fortune-telling—it’s incredibly accurate. I doubt he’d steal the statue; he doesn’t need the money. Besides, if he did take it, you’d never find it…”

Qiu Xi couldn’t help but hiccup, slurred, “How so…?”

“You haven’t seen his tricks. Let me put it this way: even if you put the Guanyin statue in front of all of us, with a dozen eyes watching, he could make it vanish before your very eyes!” Li Qihuai declared, clearly speaking from experience.

Qiu Xi was intrigued. He turned to Li Yiting, “Isn’t that just a magic trick?”

Li Yiting nodded, “It must be some kind of misdirection.”

Li Qihuai shook his head, “Misdirection is child’s play. It wouldn’t fool me—misdirection needs noise, a distraction. He makes things disappear into thin air…”

Everyone was incredulous, but treated it as a good story and soon returned to drinking and chatting, growing ever more intoxicated.

Li Tian drank only a little. Seeing the others staggering off to rest, with only Qiu Xi left snoring on a rattan chair, she gently led him to her room to settle down.

While the family enjoyed their reunion, a handful of elders, led by village party secretary Li Fuqi, went up to Li Qiumao’s mountain workshop to collect the new statue, so it could be installed that night for the New Year’s Day rites.

After searching, they found no sign of Li Qiumao. With dusk approaching, they took the statue back to the village.

Li Qiumao’s reputation as “the Wood Madman” came with eccentric habits—he was often alone, and no one found it strange.

Li Fuqi decided to stay and look for him a bit longer, thinking: the task is done, and since Fifth Uncle dislikes being thanked, he’s probably gone home.