Volume Three: Tomb of the Fox Immortal - Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Paper Artisan

The moment the words left my mouth, a knock came from outside the door. Hearing the sound, I stood up and walked straight into the courtyard.

I raised my hand to lift the wooden latch and opened the door. Outside stood three young men, all around eighteen or nineteen years old. Two of them each carried a metal basin filled to the brim with blood.

The one in the middle held two ropes, each tied to a black dog and a large rooster. He said, “Master, we’ve brought everything you asked for. I was worried it might not be enough, so I brought two animals. If it’s still insufficient, we can prepare another basin right now.”

Seeing the bloodstains covering their hands, I smiled wryly and said, “Come in quickly. You don’t need so much black dog and rooster blood. Did you really kill two animals?”

They chuckled and nodded. “Better safe than sorry,” one said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but since his hand was still bloody, it left red stains on his lips.

I said, “Come inside.”

Once the three young men entered the courtyard, I told them, “Just bring those two basins inside. You can take the dog and rooster back. We don’t need that much.”

After placing the basins down, the two who carried them hurried out, leaving only the one who had spoken to me earlier.

He grinned shyly and whispered, “Honestly, we have a selfish reason too—we wanted to taste dog meat.”

He then came closer and said softly, “Master, I’ve already started stewing both the dog and the chicken. Once they’re cooked, I’ll bring some over for you three. We can’t eat it all ourselves anyway.”

At that moment, Li Kun and Xu Tian came out. Hearing this, Li Kun’s interest was immediately piqued. He quickly approached the young man and said, “You’ve got dog meat to eat?”

The young man felt a bit intimidated by Li Kun’s burly figure, but after Li Kun smiled, he relaxed and nodded with a grin. “Not just dog meat—there’s chicken too.”

Xu Tian laughed and said, “Aren’t you afraid the old village chief will punish you?”

The young man chuckled, “Heh, it’s a waste not to eat it.”

I walked up beside him and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Just call me Big Dog. That’s what everyone in the village calls me,” he replied.

I nodded, understanding that in rural areas, people often give their children humble or ‘lowly’ names, reflecting old traditions meant to protect them.

I asked, “Big Dog, do you know if there’s a paper figure maker still open in your village?”

Big Dog was slightly surprised. “There is one nearby. Do you want to go now?”

I checked my phone; it was already past five in the evening. If we didn’t go now, we’d have to wait until tomorrow.

“Alright, it’s still early. Let’s go,” I said.

Big Dog nodded. “Okay, follow me.”

The three of us—Xu Tian, Li Kun, and I—followed behind Big Dog as we walked out.

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We hadn’t gone far when we came upon an old, modest house. It was a tiled roof dwelling without the large courtyard typical of other homes, just a simple room with a cloth sign hanging on the wooden door that read “Funeral Supplies.”

Big Dog said, “This is the place. They’re usually closed all day, but if you knock, they’ll open.”

I nodded, and Big Dog left.

I stepped forward and knocked three times. After a short wait, footsteps sounded inside, and the door slowly creaked open.

An older man, probably in his fifties or sixties, looked up at us. Seeing three strangers, he hesitated for a moment before asking, “Who are you three?”

I said, “Sir, do you make paper figures here?”

He nodded. “You’re not from our Goutou Village, are you?”

I shook my head. He continued, “If you’re not locals, why come to me for paper figures?”

I replied, “That’s none of your concern. Can you make them or not?”

Seeing he couldn’t get more information, he stopped questioning. After all, business is business.

He stepped aside and said, “Come in and take a look. You can choose whichever paper figure you want. I have some ready-made ones; if you like any, you can take them immediately.”

He led us into another room.

Inside, the room was large, filled with paper figures and paper-crafted carriages. The steady stream of work suggested a skilled artisan.

Though I thought highly of his craftsmanship, being surrounded by items for the dead made me uneasy. Li Kun and Xu Tian clung closely together, almost holding hands.

I examined one paper figure. Though the techniques were generally similar, quality varied. A master craftsman could shape paper figures of all ages—from children to elderly men and women.

To judge quality, one must first look at the contours of the face. If the figure had wrinkles, it usually represented someone around forty years old, crafted from high-quality white or yellow paper.

A well-made figure was finely detailed; if the face was smooth with subtle features, it likely depicted a young woman.

The best figures were lifelike; from a distance, they looked almost real, though up close you could tell they were made of paper.

The figure before me was not finely crafted—about a meter and twenty centimeters tall, clearly a boy, with a girl of similar height beside him.

I shook my head slightly. The owner noticed and approached. “Young man, are you not satisfied with my paper figures?”

I replied, “It’s not that. I just don’t see what I’m looking for here.”

Just then, a sudden thud was heard, followed by a groan from Li Kun.

We turned to see him sitting on the ground, a pale yellow paper sheet under him.

I helped Li Kun up and asked, “Old Li, why are you sitting on the ground?”

Rubbing his backside, Li Kun said, “I thought it was a stool and sat down, but it turned out to be made of paper.”

I chuckled. “You can’t even tell the difference between a paper stool and a real one?”

He said, “I really thought it was real—it looked so genuine.”

The owner came over, admonishing, “Young man, some things here can’t be touched carelessly. Some paper figures take me seven or eight years to perfect. That stool you just broke is worth a lot.”

He held up two fingers.

Li Kun asked, “Just that one stool is worth two yuan?”

Nowadays, two yuan was a significant amount—most people barely earned seven or eight yuan a day, so two yuan was considerable.

The owner shook his head. “Not two yuan, but twenty.”

His words startled me—twenty yuan for a paper stool? That seemed like a rip-off.

Seeing our expressions, he added, “That price is fair to all. I spent a whole week making that stool to make it look real. Otherwise, how could you mistake it for a real stool? But don’t worry, I won’t charge you for it.”

Inwardly, he thought these visitors were here for special paper figures, so he’d let the stool slide but would make it up in other sales.

I said, “No, sir, we want to pay. After all, you spent time making it.”

Then I glanced around and asked, “Do you have all your paper figures here?”

He smiled knowingly. “No, these are just the ordinary ones. I have some high-quality figures too. Would you like to see them?”

I nodded. “Yes, please show us.”

He stepped aside and pointed to the innermost room. “Right in there.”

We three—Li Kun, Xu Tian, and I—walked straight into that room.

Behind the curtain, two neat rows of paper figures stood. At first glance, the sight was breathtaking.

We were astonished. The craftsman’s skill was remarkable—these ordinary paper figures were so lifelike that from the doorway they looked like real people.

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Volume Three – The Fox Spirit’s Tomb, Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Paper Figure Maker, free to read.