Porcelain (Part Two): Chased Out for Debt

The room was a mess, with no place to hide. A knock came at the door, followed by an urgent "Miss?" The Bige on the floor thrashed and let out low growls. Zhou Yao soothed him, steeled herself, and yanked the door open.

When she looked up, the voice belonged to none other than Chen Yuwen, the Chen family disciple at the Jiuyao Kilns—the very man she'd been desperate to learn from. Zhou Yao racked her brain, unable to fathom why he'd suddenly sought her out.

"Alright, I've found the person, so your task is done." He waved a hand, pulled a string of copper coins from his money pouch, and tossed them to the innkeeper.

Chen Yuwen remained as indifferent as ever, but Zhou Yao couldn't shake the strange feeling creeping over her.

"Living this far out and still running to the Jiuyao Kilns every day?" His tone wasn't exactly warm. He dropped his gaze, crossed his arms, and leaned lazily against the doorframe.

Something felt off. She'd never told Chen Yuwen that she raised a Bige—so how did he know? Before she could ask, Chen Yuwen spoke up. "Someone asked me to find you. This afternoon, did you save a woman at the mouth of that alley? That spot's been abandoned for years—desolate and crumbling."

Zhou Yao started to speak, but Chen Yuwen cut her off, eyes lowered. "Thank you."

She snapped back to reality. "No need to thank me. I would have done the same for anyone."

"I apologize for how I treated you before. I hadn't planned to continue the porcelain craft. My younger sister came to Chang'an for me, and I should have gone back. Along the way, you must have heard plenty of rumors—how Master Chen suffered all sorts of misfortunes because of this craft, and ultimately met a miserable end..." As he left, Chen Yuwen cast her a lingering, searching glance.

After a long pause, he finally asked, "These days everyone runs from this craft. Why would you go out of your way to learn it?"

"For money." She mulled it over for a beat before those two words slipped out.

Chen Yuwen was amused by her serious expression. "Fine, I'll take it as being for money. Come by tomorrow at the si hour."

Once he was gone, Zhou Yao exhaled. You never know the cost of daily necessities until you have to manage a household. Chen Yuwen's fine brocade robes alone were worth more than half a year's food money.

Life was hard, and raising a Bige was harder still. It howled like a ghost every night—the fact that the innkeeper hadn't kicked them out was a stroke of luck in itself. She turned to look back at the Bige, still writhing on the ground, and sighed. Since she'd picked him up, life had only gotten harder. Every day she regretted it. She'd considered throwing him out. But she couldn't bear to see such a small Bige wander the streets of a foreign land. She'd even thought about jumping into a well with him in her arms. But every time she watched him knock over her stored food, she felt strangely at ease. He was simply too small to survive without her—just as Tianzhu couldn't survive without Buddhism. And so—she regretted it all over again. Being soft-hearted toward the Bige was nothing short of cruelty to herself. Whenever anyone praised him as adorable, she'd kindly try to find him a better owner, asking, "Would you like him?"

————

Early next morning, the market vendors had just begun their opening calls. Zhou Yao came downstairs and found the innkeeper waiting at the door. She was mulling over how to ask for a few more days, but before she could come up with anything, the innkeeper called her over himself. "Miss, I can see living alone isn't easy for you. That young gentleman yesterday was quite generous—if you were to..."

"Thank you for your kindness, innkeeper, but those are separate matters. I'll pay you back as soon as I can." She cut him off, afraid that a moment's hesitation would have him pairing her up with Chen Yuwen.

With that, Zhou Yao scurried off, vanishing in an instant.

When she arrived at the Jiuyao Kilns, she found the courtyard spotless—a far cry from yesterday's clutter. She rubbed her eyes and spotted Chen Yuwen in a corner. The man had shed his usual laziness. His hair was tied back neatly, and his broad sleeves were bound with arm straps—a completely different person from the one she'd seen before.

He seemed to sense her arrival. Without lifting his head, he said casually, "Go take a look around first. In a moment, I'll teach you the first step."

Zhou Yao complied and headed to the back courtyard. It was filled with countless ceramics—from exquisite pieces to ordinary workmanship. She couldn't help but wonder: if the Chen family hadn't been hit by disaster, would there have been half as many again? She'd had no connection to court affairs, but she'd spent years in that small courtyard, too hungry to care about porcelain. She had no sense of how the two craftsmanship traditions compared. Then she noticed a heap of broken ceramic cups and bowls in a distant pile of discarded fragments. They were unremarkable in shape, but their patterns were used exclusively by the palace. Their presence stirred something.

"What are you looking at?" He approached from behind and warned, "Those belong to the imperial house. Even if they're left on the ground, don't touch them. One careless moment and you might lose your head." Then he added, "I'm teaching you the craft of the Jiuyao Kilns, so I count as your master. Come with me."

His naturally upturned eyes, known as peach-blossom eyes, were icily cold. With his habitual laziness, they made him seem like someone who might be alive one day and gone the next. He led her down a narrow path in the back courtyard, with Zhou Yao close behind. Noticing her caution, Chen Yuwen said, "The Jiuyao Kilns aren't called the Nine Kilns just because there are nine kilns in the yard, but because this craft has sustained nine generations."

"Porcelain itself is a gift from heaven and earth. Even the craft of human hands must rely on heaven's willingness to bestow it." Zhou Yao glanced at Chen Yuwen and found his expression grave. A short while later, a building came into view—one that looked less weathered than the others. As they drew closer, she realized it was the ancestral hall of the Jiuyao Kilns. Tablets of all sizes sat on the offering table. She'd seen grand spectacles before, but nothing like this.

She watched as Chen Yuwen took three sticks of incense from a small table, lit them, and placed them in the burner. After a kowtow, he remained kneeling, murmuring under his breath. Taking the cue, Zhou Yao knelt behind him, glancing around. She listened closely and heard him say, "Your disciple, Chen Yuwen, pays respects to Master. I apologize for disturbing you today—I have brought your disciple's disciple to meet you..." Before he could finish, a beam of sunlight from outside fell squarely on Zhou Yao. Understanding settled over Chen Yuwen. "Thank you, Master." He rose, lit three fresh sticks of incense, and handed them to her. Zhou Yao understood.

"Do you know the general situation? The whole story?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue. Zhou Yao, however, knew he was referring to the cause of the Chen family's death. She shook her head. Chen Yuwen continued, "Back then, the palace held a banquet for honored guests. My master was summoned by a eunuch, who ordered him to present the newest porcelain to the emperor. But who'd have guessed that the favorite concubine's maidservant had sticky fingers, and she framed my master? That fool emperor flew into a rage and, without distinguishing right from wrong, ordered the entire Chen family executed."

A long silence hung in the air. "Only I—because he'd adopted me without recording my name in the family register—escaped by a fluke." His expression was heavy as he spoke, and Zhou Yao couldn't interrupt—couldn't bring herself to. She suddenly understood his attitude when they'd first met, and why he'd asked her surname then. There was an unspoken enmity between them. Even if she harbored many resentments toward her imperial father, she still shared his blood. She dared not reveal her true identity now. Her heart wrestled for a long time, until a thousand words collapsed into one sentence: "I'm so sorry... I—"

"I know. But you are not him." Chen Yuwen walked toward the woods and motioned for her to follow. Zhou Yao stood frozen, stunned. He knew everything—and he was still willing to teach her?

"The Jiuyao Kilns might be small, but what has always endured is its exquisite craft—and it's no accident that it became the imperial kiln for successive dynasties." He continued, "The villagers always say porcelain must be made with kaolin clay, but that isn't necessarily true. Still, the saying that one soil nurtures one people holds. People in different regions—what they eat, what they use, what they see, even their culture—all change with the local water and soil. The same goes for clay used in ceramics."

As time passed, Chen Yuwen led Zhou Yao to gather a good amount of porcelain clay in the forest. When they had enough, they turned back. "To produce an exceptional piece of porcelain is extremely difficult. It tests not only the maker's skill but, more crucially, luck. A batch can take months or even years, depending on the craft. Of the pieces used in the palace, only one in ten thousand might succeed—something to be encountered, never sought." He waved a hand, handing the clay to Zhou Yao, and went to look for the stones he needed. "Let's begin with the earliest stages: mixing, washing, crushing, and settling."

Zhou Yao gathered the stones and placed them in a coarse sieve, washing them at the small river to filter out impurities. Under Chen Yuwen's guidance, she selected the finest, dried them, and fired them in high-temperature charcoal. Using a mortar, she pounded the fired rocks into powder, then ground and sifted them again, added water, and left them to settle. By the time she finished, the sun had set in the west. She was exhausted, her back and waist aching.

"This is nothing yet. Do you want to continue tomorrow, Ninth Princess?" Zhou Yao caught the mockery in his tone and shot back with a smile that didn't reach her eyes: "Master, you've lazed about all day and must be tired. Go rest in your room. I'll take my leave."

After a hard day's work, Zhou Yao planned to return to the inn and treat herself. What she hadn't expected was to find her bundles and the Bige neatly packed on the counter. "This is..." She stared blankly at the Bige, which looked half-dead on the floor, and at her various bundles. "Oh, if it isn't the one who owes money and won't pay." The kindly innkeeper from before had apparently been replaced by this woman in front of her—dressed in expensive clothes but with fierce, fleshy features. She sneered, "This inn is under my management starting today. I went through the accounts this morning, and you owe the most. Not throwing your things out the door is a favor. And that dog of yours—barking all day and night. Are you trying to ruin my business?" She gave Zhou Yao a once-over, saw nothing valuable on her, and impatiently waved her away. "If you can't afford to stay, get the hell out. Don't take up space without paying."

Author's Note: None.