In the office, when they return, the atmosphere is good, and while the interpreter enjoys the benefits of the huo tong, Stein and the master look at a photograph album, bound in coloured fake leather, of his earlier works, which the master brings out like a treasure from one of the rooms in the back, then Stein begins to examine the statues scattered around the office, and asks if he could buy one like that one day, when he is rich — he points at a smaller Guanyin, the master suddenly looks very serious, he sits down in the armchair and points, next to himself, for his guest to sit down as well and he speaks to the interpreter, asking him to please be so kind as to translate what he is about to say, and he begins to speak animatedly, the interpreter is clearly concentrating very strongly in the tub, noting everything, but in the end he summarizes the master’s address in a single short sentence which goes like this: he, the master, has become very attached to comrade Petőfi, and he would like them to be friends.
Stein, with the greatest joy, says yes, the master arises from his armchair and they embrace, then they bring out a camera and as everyone poses for a picture — the interpreter in the tub in the middle, of course, and Stein and the master and the woman with the two children around him — the master of the workshop, to his very best and his only foreign friend, solemnly promises to carve for him a Guanyin of extraordinary beauty, and let there be no worry about the cost, because he will calculate the most advantageous price for him, but still, how much, Stein asks, and the master begins to laugh confusedly, like someone who is counting within, and then he asks what size the guest was thinking of, the guest shows the size, well, he reflects, still smiling confusedly, he could prepare one, but this will be the most beautiful one that he has ever, ever prepared — he raises his index finger — well, then, he could prepare one for. . 800 yuan — that’s fine, answers Stein, let the price be 800 yuan, and it will be the most beautiful Guanyin he has ever made. They take the photographs, and in high spirits they disperse, the children and the woman behind the door, and the guests slowly prepare to leave: they write their home address on a piece of paper, where, according to the prediction of the master, a Guanyin, more beautiful than any other, will certainly arrive, they pay him the 800 yuan, and they add 2 yuan for the postage, and they are leaving, but the master, clearly overcome, stands in his office, and does not want them by any means to set off: first, he suggests they have lunch together, from this point on let them be his guests for the day, then when they tell him that so little time do they have in Jiuhuashan that if they want to see anything at all before it grows dark, even with an aching heart, they must refuse his invitation, and he becomes so sad that they can hardly console him, they must drink at least one more tea, and then another and another, and then they are finally outside in the courtyard, and they are walking towards the gate, and there he stands in the doorway of his office and he waves, and he calls after them that the Guanyin will really be the most beautiful and they can see him wracking his brain to find a reason to call them back, like someone who doesn’t want them to leave, like someone who doesn’t want them to be submerged — leaving the protection that he can offer to them — yet again in the unknown fog of Jiuhuashan.