The kiln fire of the Tianqing Pavilion burns day and night without extinguishing, and the young porcelain worker Jibai stares at the 'Rain Over Tianqing' material in the glaze bucket that is continuously decreasing — that is the 'Cloud Water Content' (handling fee) withdrawn by the porcelain industry during shaping. He pulls the clay efficiently, his ten fingers covered in kaolin frost (transaction), yet the plain small jar by his pillow for storing wages (principal) remains light as an unfired clay body.
The kiln goddess, Grandma Sun, with a string of kiln-changing glass beads suddenly slipping from her wrist, falls right onto the table where Jibai is kneading clay. 'Dull boy,' she said, her withered fingers picking up a scorching bead and pressing it into the young man's palm, 'only focusing on the depth of the glaze bucket, burning through hundreds of kilns won't produce a hint of rosy purple. An old kiln spirit’s eyes must see the moment when 'kiln sweat crystallizes'.'
She led Jibai to the shaded rear of the kiln. The blue brick wall leaned against a cracked 'test fire tile', with a rough clay outer shell covered in charred cracks. Grandma Sun took the bone scraper, smeared with glaze, without wiping it, but turned the handle upside down and gently pressed it into a cracked seam on the tile's abdomen. In an instant, a silvery liquid resembling silver paste flowed from the depths of the crack, climbing up the natural marrow patterns of the bone handle, like ivy absorbing dew, silently congealing at the neck of the knife, forming a thin layer of glassy frost, transparent yet revealing starlight, cool to the touch like a clear pond under the moon.
'What the open flame burns is the glaze color that thousands gaze upon,' Grandma Sun lightly tapped that layer of glassy frost, her eyes reflecting the faint light from the cracks in the clay shell, 'this 'kiln essence' (handling fee exemption) that this tile 'absorbs', is the kiln change of the porcelain makers themselves.'
Jibai held his breath, feeling the coolness and smoothness of the glassy frost on his fingertips, as if holding a handful of solidified moonlight. He looked back at the blazing flames at the kiln entrance, when suddenly the scraper in his palm sank — this time, what was applied to the body was not only the Tianqing glaze water, but also the silent essence forged from deep within the clay shell. The bottom of the plain small jar quietly exuded a dark color resembling mica.
The kiln goddess, Grandma Sun, with a string of kiln-changing glass beads suddenly slipping from her wrist, falls right onto the table where Jibai is kneading clay. 'Dull boy,' she said, her withered fingers picking up a scorching bead and pressing it into the young man's palm, 'only focusing on the depth of the glaze bucket, burning through hundreds of kilns won't produce a hint of rosy purple. An old kiln spirit’s eyes must see the moment when 'kiln sweat crystallizes'.'
She led Jibai to the shaded rear of the kiln. The blue brick wall leaned against a cracked 'test fire tile', with a rough clay outer shell covered in charred cracks. Grandma Sun took the bone scraper, smeared with glaze, without wiping it, but turned the handle upside down and gently pressed it into a cracked seam on the tile's abdomen. In an instant, a silvery liquid resembling silver paste flowed from the depths of the crack, climbing up the natural marrow patterns of the bone handle, like ivy absorbing dew, silently congealing at the neck of the knife, forming a thin layer of glassy frost, transparent yet revealing starlight, cool to the touch like a clear pond under the moon.
'What the open flame burns is the glaze color that thousands gaze upon,' Grandma Sun lightly tapped that layer of glassy frost, her eyes reflecting the faint light from the cracks in the clay shell, 'this 'kiln essence' (handling fee exemption) that this tile 'absorbs', is the kiln change of the porcelain makers themselves.'
Jibai held his breath, feeling the coolness and smoothness of the glassy frost on his fingertips, as if holding a handful of solidified moonlight. He looked back at the blazing flames at the kiln entrance, when suddenly the scraper in his palm sank — this time, what was applied to the body was not only the Tianqing glaze water, but also the silent essence forged from deep within the clay shell. The bottom of the plain small jar quietly exuded a dark color resembling mica.
