The cold wind of the twelfth lunar month rolled up the broken snow, blowing like a knife across Cheng's huge open-air kiln in Qingyao. **Cheng Zhuo** was kneeling on the cold stone slab, and the newly cut wound on his wrist was dripping blood into the plain white glaze. Every time it drips, the viscous liquid greedily swallows the bright red color, blurring out the strange lines - this is the indescribable secret of firing "Jinxue Porcelain": using the blood of close relatives as a trigger.
The severe pain in her fingertips made her eyes go dark, and the porcelain body was slightly hot in the palm of her hand, as if it was sucking the life out of her. She bit her lower lip, not daring to stop. Mrs. Cheng's cold words last night were still in her ears: "If you still can't make a decent Jingxue porcelain this time, your sister's medicine... Will find another way." Her nominal mother only saw the real legitimate daughter on the hospital bed.
"Enough!"
A sharp shout sounded after himself. Mrs. Cheng was wrapped in a thick fox fur and walked towards her surrounded by servants. Her eyes were like tempered porcelain, piercing Cheng Zhuo's pale face. "This little blood is on the verge of collapse? Trash!" She snatched the porcelain blank that had just been injected with blood glaze in Cheng Zhuo's hand. She squeezed hard with her fingertips, and the embryo that still had body temperature split into a ferocious line. "Look at this turbid color! How can impure blood burn clear snow? Get back! Don't stain my glaze!" The porcelain blank was thrown into the slush, splashing stains mixed with blood.
Not far away, a figure blending into the shadows watched all this silently. **Chen Jin** (pseudonym Pei Yan) rubbed a cold broken piece of porcelain in her sleeve with her fingertips - on it was solidified the dark red glaze unique to the "Blood Porcelain Case" ten years ago. The suspicion of the Cheng family's mistreatment of their legitimate daughter remains, and the mystery of Cheng Zhuo's bloody porcelain burning...
