Chapter 48: A Wooden Sculpture with a Mind of Its Own

Taking it in his hands for a closer look, Xiaozhi realized that Zhang Bamboo was right—the dragon carving’s whiskers were indeed misaligned, making the whole thing appear strangely deformed.

Unintentionally, Xiaozhi’s movement as he snatched the dragon carving was a bit too abrupt, which made Zhang Bamboo think he was being possessive. Glancing at his own hands, still slick with grease, Zhang Bamboo felt embarrassed; his face fell and he left the room.

When he returned a while later, his hands were spotlessly clean. Like Han Chong, and sometimes even more so, Zhang Bamboo took meticulous care of his younger brother.

Xiaozhi sighed, squatting on the floor with the crestfallen expression of a child who has made a mistake. Zhang Bamboo saw the grease stains on the dragon’s whiskers and felt uncomfortable.

Zhang Bamboo said, “Why don’t I wash it for you? If the weather’s nice, a bit of sunshine might get the stains off.”

Xiaozhi gave no response.

Growing anxious, Zhang Bamboo pressed, “Or maybe I’ll buy you more wood. This is camphor, right? Oh, that’s a month’s wages…”

Remorseful for his own carelessness, Zhang Bamboo’s words finally made Xiaozhi look up.

Xiaozhi asked, “Brother, do you really think this thing I’m making is worth it? Honestly, I’ve lost all confidence…”

So that’s it, Zhang Bamboo sighed inwardly in relief; Xiaozhi wasn’t upset about the grease stains, but about something deeper. Yet, seeing Xiaozhi so dispirited, Zhang Bamboo was at a loss for advice, so he crouched beside him.

“Maybe… if you reposition the whiskers to the back, it’ll look better?”

“It’s not the whiskers. Even if I glue them on, it’ll still look like this.”

“Like what?”

“Tell me, does this unlucky thing look like it could ever sell? I’ve spent so long making it—it’s neither here nor there.”

For most people, persevering in a single endeavor is no small feat. Zhang Bamboo scrutinized the dragon carving and realized there were merits: the scales along the dragon’s back were finely detailed, their block-like shapes layered with depth and shadow. The eyes, the finishing touch, lent the dragon an air of majesty—fierce yet dignified.

If further refined, it would surely be extraordinary! Even someone as unversed in art as Zhang Bamboo could see Xiaozhi’s talent and skill in carving.

“There’s nothing wrong with it… If you ask me, I guarantee someone would want to collect it,” Zhang Bamboo said.

Xiaozhi smiled faintly.

“If that’s the case, then this path is over for me,” Xiaozhi replied.

A wooden expression crossed Zhang Bamboo’s face; Xiaozhi’s thoughts were hard to fathom, always shifting.

“Our status, you see—how could we ever meet a landlord who collects things? At most, it’s people like us. Would anyone really appreciate this?”

Zhang Bamboo jumped to his feet with a loud commotion.

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Xiaozhi was puzzled. “What’s going on?”

The thought of their humble origins—Zhang Bamboo’s hard-won respect and position in the kitchen—suddenly seemed to evaporate, leaving him despondent.

But Zhang Bamboo didn’t know how to hide such emotions and could only mask his feelings.

“Come on… don’t sell yourself short. You’ve earned plenty of gold—you’re practically rich now!” he said, though his words carried a tinge of bitterness. The last time Rogan took Xiaozhi and Han Chong to a competition, Zhang Bamboo was left out.

The registration was for three people, which made sense, but Zhang Bamboo, caught in the middle, felt uneasy. He loved his younger brother, but anything involving Rogan always rubbed him the wrong way.

Xiaozhi spread his hands, placing pieces of wood in front of Zhang Bamboo, who didn’t grasp his intent.

“This one cost a tael of gold, that one two taels… The money’s all here,” Xiaozhi explained.

Zhang Bamboo took the wood, astonished, his expression shifting from confusion to fury. “Xiaozhi, you mean all that money… you spent it on this?”

Xiaozhi nodded, downcast.

“What were you thinking? Waste—ah!” Zhang Bamboo swallowed the words ‘wasteful fool’, knowing they weren’t his to say, afraid to wound Xiaozhi’s pride.

A flood of indignation, sorrow, and confusion overwhelmed Xiaozhi, who buried his head in his arms and wept.

“I thought… I thought… if I made it well, I could sell it and earn more money…” he sobbed, his voice breaking repeatedly. Clearly, he spoke from the heart—just misguided. Zhang Bamboo’s pity stirred; he wrapped his arms around Xiaozhi’s curled-up form, lost in thought.

After a long bout of crying, Zhang Bamboo considered every aspect of wood carving and the ways he could help Xiaozhi.

“Hey, this is a truly exquisite piece. Xiaozhi, your craftsmanship is only missing one thing.”

His swollen, red eyes looked as though he’d been beaten; anyone would assume he’d been scolded. Xiaozhi looked up at Zhang Bamboo.

Turning the dragon carving over in his hands, Zhang Bamboo said, “It’s just not practical. Beautiful, but not useful.”

As if waking from a dream, Xiaozhi understood.

The sobs faded from the men’s room; not even an animal stirred on that winter night. With the lamp extinguished, darkness thickened.

The next day was the staff holiday at Tiger’s Roost. Xiaozhi hurried to Liu Chengyu’s home, knocking at the door, and happened upon Liu Chengyu returning from walking his pet bird.

This time, Xiaozhi was clever—he knew asking directly for books on wood carving would lead to refusal. So he claimed to be helping Rogan gather information on the rat monsters and medical texts, hoping to solve the city’s strange happenings.

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Liu Chengyu gladly led Xiaozhi to the library, letting him search alone and instructing the staff that he was sent by Lord Liu to help organize the records.

Inside, Xiaozhi rummaged through the shelves. There were few books on wood carving, mostly family genealogies and case files. Searching further, he found medical classics like “Treatise on Cold Damage,” “Shennong’s Herbal,” as well as “The Book of Han,” “The Book of Songs,” and even “The Luban Book,” which Xiaozhi had heard of. Leafing through, he found only a few essays related to wood carving, but still read them diligently.

After a day of study, Xiaozhi managed to glean some insights. He hurried to the night market, searching stall after stall until he found a few interesting items: small pieces of stone, blades, and finally a block of black stone that caught his eye, which he took home.

Back at home, Xiaozhi went to work, affixing the stone onto the wood carving so it had square wheels that could rotate. But the trouble was, the square wheels barely moved; it took great effort just to shift the carving, let alone make it move on its own.

As for the blade, he embedded it into a large piece of wood, ingeniously combining the dragon carving with farm implements to create a refined work of art. Carefully, he finally managed to perfect the dragon carving so the blade fit seamlessly as a plow!

It was finished! Elated, Xiaozhi rushed to the market before it closed, proudly offering his treasure to the vendors.

One stall owner looked it over, clicking his tongue in admiration. Xiaozhi beamed.

“How about it? Isn’t my treasure good enough? Want to buy it?” Xiaozhi asked.

The stall owner replied, “Beautiful, yes, very beautiful—the carving is exquisite. But it’s ruined by being a farm tool.”

Xiaozhi was puzzled. “Why? Isn’t it a clever blend of art and utility?”

The stall owner shook his head repeatedly. “You said it yourself—if it’s for practical use, who cares about beauty? Wood carvings like these look nice, but which farmer can afford them? Ah… Enough, just take it back.”

Taking home his creation, Xiaozhi fell into another bout of dejection. He placed the wood carving plow on the ground and stared at it in a daze.

Zhang Bamboo returned, in high spirits, but seeing Xiaozhi’s gloomy face, he didn’t know what to say.

Just then—the dragon carving plow began to vibrate on its own, wobbling as it drifted toward Zhang Bamboo.

Both men were astonished.

Zhang Bamboo exclaimed, “Well, well! What did you put in the dragon carving? It’s got a mind of its own now!”

He caught the dragon carving plow, while Xiaozhi checked that Zhang Bamboo had a kitchen knife tucked at his side, then burst out laughing.

“Providence has favored me! It’s finally come together!” Xiaozhi cried.