The kiln fire reflected Ji Shuyun's fingers covered with porcelain clay, and her mother's words echoed in her ears: "There is Cizhou kiln in the north and Jingdezhen in the south. Yun Yun, you want Cizhou porcelain to be seen by the world."
The expectation almost suffocated her.
Just like that night four years ago, she clutched the confession letter she had written and waited until dawn in her childhood secret base. And Kuang Xingchen, the sweetheart who heard "I tell you Kuang Xingchen" since childhood, went to Beijing to study artificial intelligence without even saying goodbye.
Four years and zero contact. She was guarding the kiln fire in Cizhou, and he was embracing the future in the capital. Her mantra changed from "I'm telling you about Kuang Xingchen" to "I'm telling you", and the words behind her were empty, like somewhere in her heart.
Until last month, an accident destroyed the final work she was preparing to enter the kiln, and also burned her qualifications to become a successor. The mother sighed: "I'm twenty-six, let's find a suitable person to marry."
Ji Shuyun looked at the old locust tree and smiled. Marry? She doesn't.
"Take the exam." She said to herself.
People in Cizhou rely on porcelain for their livelihood, but people in He Province still have "the iron rice bowl to honor their ancestors" engraved in their bones. Since you can't be a successor, then find another way to gain a foothold.
When clearing her desk, she pulled out her graduation photos. Kuang Xingchen stood behind her, his eyes falling quietly on the tail of her pony.
"Kuang Xingchen," she gritted her teeth, "If you don't confess, I will have an iron rice bowl!"
But she still has the secret base of Ye Feng hidden in her heart. Some waiting, even if it fails for four years, is still hot.
