“……I really like it,” Chen Qing Wu nodded emphatically.

She felt as if her voice was coming from a muffled jar, the emotion stirred by the porcelain set, though not solely because of it. “……If I could produce such a piece in my lifetime, I would feel no regrets even if it were my final work.”

“Glad you like it,” Meng Fu Yuan exhaled a breath, as if the fatigue from days of travel had dissipated completely.

“Since it’s your friend’s grandmother’s porcelain set, persuading him to part with it must not have been easy,” Chen Qing Wu said.

“It wasn’t too difficult. You and the old lady share the same philosophy. This set of porcelain had been sitting idle in the cabinet, unused since her passing.”

“What a waste.”

“I said the same to him.”

Chen Qing Wu smiled, her tone somewhat solemn, “I will definitely continue their ‘used’ life.”

Such beautiful items, in the hands of someone who cherishes them, have found a fitting home.

Meng Fu Yuan nodded, his gaze lightly falling on her face. “It seemed like you were working when I arrived. Did I interrupt you?”

“Oh… no, not at all. I was just casually making something to practice. Sister An introduced a friend to me, and we are still in the stage of discussing their needs, so I haven’t started yet.”

Meng Fu Yuan looked at the rotating wheel.

On it was an unshaped object, resembling both a bowl and a mug.

“Zhao Yingfei came to play this afternoon, just casually shaping something. Sometimes, when she’s stuck with her thesis, she comes here to relieve stress by playing with clay.”

Meng Fu Yuan pondered, “Can I try?”

“Of course!” Seeing Meng Fu Yuan’s slight hesitation, Chen Qing Wu said, “You can wash your hands first, and I’ll prepare the materials.”

Meng Fu Yuan walked to the sink, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and turned on the faucet.

As water poured down, he noticed the signet ring on his pinky finger. Worrying it might get dirty or interfere with shaping, he hesitated for a moment, then took it off and placed it on the stone counter nearby.

Chen Qing Wu first stored away Mrs. Zhuang Shiying’s porcelain set.

Then she cleaned the wooden workbench and the manual rotating wheel, cut two equal-sized pieces of clay with a cutting wire, and finally fetched two plastic basins, filled them with water, and set them aside.

The preparations were mostly done.

Meng Fu Yuan sat on a low stool behind the workbench, hands spread, as if waiting for “Teacher Chen’s” next instruction.

Chen Qing Wu sat across from him, handing him a piece of clay, “Do you have something in mind you want to make?”

“A cup.”

“This size should be about right.” Chen Qing Wu picked up the remaining piece of clay and lightly slapped it on the board. “Yuan Ge, have you played with pottery before?”

“No.”

“For a complete beginner, coil building or hand shaping are both fine. Coil building is a bit more complicated when connecting the coils.”

Meng Fu Yuan picked up the clay, still somewhat unsure where to start. “Just shape it directly?”

“Knead the clay first. Like this…”

Meng Fu Yuan watched her. She pressed the clay downward and outward with both hands, then rotated it forward and downward… repeating this process.

“This is called wedging. Since we won’t use the electric wheel today, just knead it a bit…”

Meng Fu Yuan tried to follow.

Chen Qing Wu observed his actions, “The main force should be here, in the thenar eminence of your palm.”

Meng Fu Yuan nodded.

Academic elites often have a knack for quickly picking up new skills. Meng Fu Yuan soon managed to knead the clay properly.

Chen Qing Wu restrained herself from praising him, recalling how Zhao Yingfei had chided her for sounding like a kindergarten teacher last time.

She guided Meng Fu Yuan to shape the clay into a ball, then find the center and press down.

“Like this, turn it and shape the opening, thin out the edges, and mold it into a cup…”

Meng Fu Yuan watched her demonstration and tried to replicate it.

However, while his eyes understood, his hands didn’t follow.

The clay that obediently formed a cup shape in her hands remained wild and unyielding in his.

“Don’t spin too fast. Take your time. When shaping, use the whole finger area, not just the fingertips, to avoid uneven pressure. Use the fingertips more when adjusting details.”

Worried that Meng Fu Yuan couldn’t see the details from across the table, Chen Qing Wu stood up, moved to his side, and demonstrated with her clay in front of him.

A faint scent, like some white flower soaked in icy river water, wafted over.

Out of the corner of his eye, Meng Fu Yuan saw a strand of hair fall from behind her ear. He held his breath slightly, focusing only on her hands while mimicking her movements.

Chen Qing Wu observed his actions, “…That’s about right. Slowly and evenly thin the cup walls. If it feels too dry, you can use a sponge to dampen it before continuing.”

She returned to her seat opposite him, letting out a silent breath.

Someone like Meng Fu Yuan, with his imposing presence, was already hard to ignore, especially after discerning his feelings.

Simply maintaining composure under his gaze was an effort.

Having tried, she realized she couldn’t pretend nothing had happened.

The basic steps were explained. The rest depended on practice and understanding.

So, in the spacious, bright studio, no one spoke again, only the sound of the rotating wheel filled the air.

This silence was unsettling.

Chen Qing Wu looked up at him.

Meng Fu Yuan was focused, his expression serious.

But, at the moment she looked up, he seemed to sense it and glanced up.

Startled, Chen Qing Wu quickly lowered her gaze.

After a few deep breaths, she finally spoke, “Yuan Ge.”

Meng Fu Yuan looked up slightly, “Hmm?”

Chen Qing Wu lowered her gaze further, “…Do you have someone you like?”

Meng Fu Yuan’s hands paused, “Yes.”

Chen Qing Wu exhaled a slow, heavy breath, her voice trembling slightly, “…Is it me?”

A moment of dead silence.

A faint embarrassment surfaced, not because she feared she was being presumptuous.

But because she believed that even if she was presumptuous, Meng Fu Yuan wouldn’t embarrass her, so she was straightforward.

As if taking advantage of his gentlemanly nature.

Chen Qing Wu couldn’t gauge how long the silence lasted, long enough to make her suspect that time had stopped.

“It is.”

His voice was deep but steady, with a resolute honesty.

Chen Qing Wu’s eyelids fluttered, her heart skipping a few beats.

She forced herself to look up, meeting Meng Fu Yuan’s eyes.

He was lightly holding the clay cup, staring at her with an excessively calm expression, making it impossible to read his thoughts.

She could only take a deep breath and say what she had planned, “…I was worried I was overthinking, so I wanted to confirm with you…”

“You weren’t overthinking, Qing Wu.” Meng Fu Yuan’s voice was very calm.

“I… I can’t pretend I didn’t notice after realizing it. Because, because…”

“I understand.”

“…I’m sorry.” Chen Qing Wu’s voice almost failed her.

Meng Fu Yuan looked down, noticing the force of his grip had caused a dent in the cup rim.

He released his grip, saying in a deep voice, “No need to apologize, Qing Wu. It’s normal. It’s okay.”

…Even at this moment, he was comforting her.

Chen Qing Wu’s throat tightened, “I’m sorry… I wanted to tell you because you have been too good to me, so I couldn’t just ignore it. Right now… I can’t reciprocate your feelings, or anyone else’s.”

Meng Fu Yuan remained silent for a moment.

“…Not because I still like Qi Ran, but because… Every time we start a new piece, we must clean the equipment, or the residue from the last time will contaminate the new work. This cleaning process can’t be skipped, as it’s a sign of respect for oneself and the new work.”

Meng Fu Yuan sighed deeply, “I understand.”

Having expressed everything, Chen Qing Wu felt her mind go blank.

“Sorry, Qing Wu. You must have felt very troubled realizing this.” Meng Fu Yuan looked at the girl across from him, who seemed uneasy as if she had done something wrong. “I can’t lie and say I can go back to how things were, I can’t. So…”

Meng Fu Yuan closed his eyes briefly, “Don’t worry, Qing Wu. Until you’re ‘cleaned,’ I won’t come to you again.”

With that, Meng Fu Yuan stood up.

He glanced at the nearly finished cup on the table, “…Please take care of this for me.”

Finally, he cast one last look at her face, then turned and walked to the sink.

Turning on the faucet, he washed the clay off his hands, glanced at the signet ring on the stone counter, picked it up, and slowly put it back on his pinky.

Meng Fu Yuan turned off the faucet, speaking softly, “I’m leaving, Qing Wu.”

“…Okay.”

Footsteps faded toward the door.

Chen Qing Wu looked up at the doorway, seeing his figure, calm and composed, his steps steady.

In the next moment, the figure disappeared from the doorway.

There was a faint sound of a car being unlocked.

A moment later, the sound of tires rolling over the cement path.

All sounds vanished, and the world returned to a long silence.

Under the cold white light, Chen Qing Wu sat for a long time, without thinking of anything, not even feeling much relief.

Just feeling sad.

A sadness hard to articulate.

Reaching out, she picked up the half-finished piece on the opposite table.

Calling it half-finished didn’t quite fit.

He had shaped it very well, almost complete, with evenly thin walls and only slight unevenness. For a beginner, it was an excellent standard.

The only flaw was a small nick on the rim.

Apparently pressed out by accident.

***

The car drove out of the complex without stopping.

Until the bridge came into view, faint lights reflecting on the river.

Meng Fu Yuan braked.

He didn’t want to go further, as the riverside memories now included Chen Qing Wu.

He turned around and drove toward the city center.

In the deep night of the metropolis, bars were never short of people seeking solace in drink.

He used to think he could remain detached, having faced such pain soberly countless times.

But this time, perhaps only alcohol could dull the pain.

He sat at the bar’s innermost corner, an abyss of silence amidst the noisy crowd, no one daring to approach him.

After drinking for an unknown time, the cold liquor turned into a numbness without taste, and he finally paid and left.

Walking unsteadily to the roadside, he opened the car door and got in.

He should call for a driver, but he only opened the window, leaned back, and lit a cigarette, not moving for a long time.

The roadside stalls were still open, their lights twinkling.

A girl with pigtails, looking like an upper-grade primary or junior high student, probably working during the holidays, was selling flowers.

She seemed to notice him, timidly looking for a while, then approached with a box, “Sir, would you like to buy some flowers?”

It was already late, and the flowers had wilted a bit.

Meng Fu Yuan took out his wallet, pulled out three bills, “I’ll take them all.”

The girl was delighted but principled, only taking one bill, “Where should I put them?”

Meng Fu Yuan unlocked the back door, asking her to place them herself.

The girl put down the box, closed the door, and smiled, “Thank you! Have a nice weekend!”

She ran a few steps, and Meng Fu Yuan called her back.

“What’s wrong?” The girl returned.

“Could you do me a favor?” Meng Fu Yuan pointed ahead, “There’s a flower shop over there. Could you buy a bouquet for me?”

Asking a flower seller to buy flowers from another shop was quite an offensive request.

But the girl didn’t mind, smiling, “Of course! What kind of flowers do you want?”

A few minutes later, the girl returned.

She was about to open the back door again, but Meng Fu Yuan said, “Please put them in the front seat.”

She did so.

After placing the flowers, she handed him the receipt and change.

Meng Fu Yuan only took the receipt, “This is for your help.”

The girl smiled, shaking her head, stuffing the money back into his hand, then skipping away.

The humid summer night breeze lifted a wisp of light blue smoke, brushing his cheek.

Meng Fu Yuan closed his eyes.

The wind seemed distant, along with the entire world.

But when he opened his eyes, he was still in the bustling city.

The alcohol had either worn off or never worked, as the pain was still clear, like a piercing heartache.

Meng Fu Yuan turned his head, staring at the bouquet on the passenger seat.

Purple freesias.

Blooming beautifully even in the late night, yet so unattainable.

—