After the exhibition ended, two weeks later, Chen Qing Wu finally had time to visit Dongcheng to inspect the pottery studio.

Unfortunately, Meng Fu Yuan had to attend an AI developers’ conference in Bincheng, where he was scheduled to speak and couldn’t cancel.

However, he had arranged everything: a car picked her up upon arrival and took her directly to the cultural park in the southern suburbs.

The pottery studio’s owner, surnamed Qian, was about twenty years older than her, so she called him Teacher Qian.

Teacher Qian gave her a detailed tour. Learning she had worked under Zhai Jingtang, he looked at her work’s photos and praised her talent.

The pottery studio exceeded her expectations with its spacious, well-lit environment, equipped with electric kilns and potter’s wheels, ready for immediate use.

It was also conveniently close to the cultural park’s wood kiln, within walking distance.

Most importantly, the rent was almost two-thirds lower than her expected budget.

Teacher Qian said he had signed a long-term lease and was eager to transfer it, hence the lower price.

Considering everything, Chen Qing Wu decided to take over the studio.

She informed Meng Fu Yuan, who assured her that Teacher Qian was trustworthy and they could confidently sign the lease agreement.

With no time to linger in Dongcheng, she signed the contract the same day and returned to the Porcelain Capital to handle her resignation and pack her belongings.

She had more things than expected, filling a medium-sized van.

The van drove from the Porcelain Capital to Dongcheng, unloading boxes that filled the studio.

After days of non-stop work, she felt too exhausted to start unpacking and decided to rest for the night.

The next morning, she began organizing her things.

She had just opened two boxes when someone called out, “Is anyone home?”

Looking outside, she saw five people in uniform from a moving and organizing company.

The leader showed his ID, “We’re from XX Moving Company. Are you Miss Chen?”

Chen Qing Wu nodded.

“You’ve booked an eight-hour organization service. We can start now.”

Confused, she asked, “Can you see who placed the order?”

“One moment.”

A while later, he said, “Sorry, we can only see the address and phone number.”

She asked them to wait and found her phone.

Meng Qi Ran was in a northeastern city for the first round of a motorcycle championship and had apologized via WeChat for not being able to help with the move.

Just as she was about to message him, another chat popped up with a red dot notification.

A black-and-white movie screenshot of a hand writing with chalk.

Meng Fu Yuan.

She didn’t open it, guessing what it would say.

Indeed.

Meng Fu Yuan: “I sent a few people to help. Use them as needed.”

She stared at the message for a moment, then replied, “Thank you.”

Meng Fu Yuan: “You’re new to Dongcheng. Ask for help if you need it.”

Chen Qing Wu: “Okay.”

Meng Fu Yuan: “I’ll host a welcome dinner tonight.”

Chen Qing Wu: “Okay.”

Meng Fu Yuan: “I’ll pick you up at 5:30 PM.”

Chen Qing Wu felt like she had become an AI that could only respond with “Okay.”

The professional movers were very efficient.

She just had to give instructions, and they neatly organized everything.

By noon, most of the unpacking was done.

She ordered lunch for them and ate her takeout at a cleared table.

Her best friend Zhao Yingfei messaged, asking if she was at the studio.

Chen Qing Wu: “Yes.”

Zhao Yingfei: “Can I come over?”

Chen Qing Wu: “It’s messy, but you’re welcome if you don’t mind.”

Zhao Yingfei’s new campus was only a fifteen-minute drive away, with direct subway access.

She arrived in less than half an hour.

The workers had finished lunch and resumed work.

Seeing the movers, Zhao Yingfei was surprised, “You hired a moving company?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Was it Meng Qi Ran? He seems thoughtful this time.”

“…It wasn’t him either,” Chen Qing Wu couldn’t ignore the slight bitterness.

“Then who?”

Chen Qing Wu shook her head, noticing the plastic bag in Zhao Yingfei’s hand. “Is that a housewarming gift?”

“No, just some takeout. Your gift is at my dorm; I’ll bring it over in a few days.”

“Haven’t you eaten?”

“No.”

Chen Qing Wu made space for her. “Did you come straight from the lab?”

Zhao Yingfei nodded.

She was a homebody, always moving between the lab, classroom, and dorm. Besides studying, she loved watching crime dramas, often eating while watching *Hannibal*.

She also didn’t care much about her appearance, wearing loose T-shirts, casual pants, and canvas shoes, with a black-rimmed glasses.

Chen Qing Wu had seen her dolled up once for a New Year’s party, looking completely different and attracting many guys.

Zhao Yingfei accepted their WeChat requests but blocked them all later, saying, “Men who only care about looks are no better than monkeys in heat.”

Chen Qing Wu and she got along well because they were both introverted but had endless things to talk about together, even boring topics to outsiders.

As she ate, Zhao Yingfei commented, “This place is big.”

“I plan to convert the back into a living space. You can crash here if your dorm has a lights-out curfew.”

“PhD dorms don’t have lights-out.”

“…Oh.”

Zhao Yingfei laughed. “Alright, I’ll crash here sometimes.”

After a few bites, she asked, “Are you planning to stay in Dongcheng?”

“Probably for the next two years.”

“What about Meng Qi Ran?”

“He can’t stay put. Whatever.”

Zhao Yingfei glanced at her. “You don’t seem too disappointed.”

“I’ve run out of disappointment.”

Zhao Yingfei chuckled. “You two are like Coca-Cola paired with celadon. It’s not impossible, but very odd and awkward.”

Chen Qing Wu shrugged.

After lunch, she showed Zhao Yingfei around the studio.

The 300-square-meter space had ample sunlight.

“This place is great; I’ll be coming over often,” Zhao Yingfei said.

“Come anytime.”

“The rent must be high.”

“Not really. The previous owner was eager to transfer it, so I got a low price.”

“How low?”

Chen Qing Wu told her.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss a zero? That person isn’t doing charity, right?”

“There’s also a subsidy for cultural parks.”

“Still, it shouldn’t be that cheap. The average price around here is twice what you’re paying.”

“…Really?” Chen Qing Wu pondered.

Since she had to return to the lab, Zhao Yingfei left soon after, promising to visit the next day.

By 4 PM, most things were organized, and the studio looked tidy.

Chen Qing Wu signed the confirmation slip for the workers, who then left.

With some small adjustments left, she began arranging things to her liking.

She lost track of time until she heard footsteps at the door.

She immediately came out from behind the shelf and looked toward the door.

Dusk was setting, with light filtering through the leaves and glass, casting a serene glow on the concrete floor, reminiscent of childhood memories.

A figure walked in, bathed in the evening light.

Against the light, his features were unclear, but his white shirt was tinted a warm yellow, contrasting with his cold demeanor.

He held a bouquet of purple freesia and paused when he saw her.

“Qing Wu.”

Chen Qing Wu loved purple freesia, despite its supposed lack of a beautiful meaning.

But beauty is beauty, without needing a contrived meaning.

She hadn’t explicitly mentioned her favorite flower to anyone. How did Meng Fu Yuan know?

Or was it just a coincidence?

She snapped out of her daze and smiled, greeting Meng Fu Yuan.

He approached and handed her the flowers.

She took them and saw an open vase on the ground, picking it up to place the bouquet in.

She wore a black top and jeans, with her hair in a ponytail, looking casual yet still exuding a cool elegance.

Holding the bouquet, she looked especially captivating, evoking a sense of awe.

Seeing Meng Fu Yuan glance at the vase, she explained, “It was left by Teacher Qian. He gave me many things he couldn’t take, including clay and glazes.” She pointed to the corner.

Meng Fu Yuan looked over. “Is everything organized?”

“Almost. Thank you, Brother Yuan.” She smiled. “If I had done it alone, it would’ve taken much longer.”

Meng Fu Yuan nodded indifferently.

“Do you want to take a tour?”

“Sure.”

She led him around the studio.

It was divided into different areas for molding, drying, glazing, and firing, with various tools neatly arranged.

At the front, there was a display shelf.

Below it were several ceramic pieces, but all were damaged.

“Your own work?”

She nodded. “Some pieces got damaged during the move.”

He nodded and then noticed a row of glass cups on the top shelf, about a dozen in total.

They were all different in color and shape but equally exquisite.

None of them were damaged.

Meng Fu Yuan’s breath caught as he looked at the broken ceramics on the floor and the intact, beautiful glass cups. “Qi Ran gave you these.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Why did he give you glass cups?” He picked one up to examine.

It was an Edo Kiriko, its light refraction stunning, a high-quality and expensive gift.

Edo Kiriko

Edo kiriko is a type of cut glass in which patterns are created by etching the surface of the glass. Its origins date back to the late Edo period (1603–1867) when people admired the beauty of glassware brought to Japan from the West and experimented with ways of reproducing it in Japan.

“Ceramics and glass are broadly categorized together. RAC places them in the same specialty.”

Meng Fu Yuan looked at her. “But you work with ceramics.”

His voice was calm, devoid of emotion.

Chen Qing Wu heard a “twang” in her heart.

Like a string breaking.

You work with ceramics—why did he give you glass cups?