Su Chen was sitting behind the counter, holding a very thin wolf-hair pen in his hand, dipped in a dark red liquid, and repairing a broken Ru kiln porcelain bowl in front of him bit by bit.
He looked to be in his early twenties, wearing a gray coarse shirt that had been washed white. He had handsome features, but he exuded an air of twilight that was inconsistent with his age. It's like the old objects placed in this house, quiet, dull, and unattractive.
The rain rustled outside.
"Tick tock."
A drop of water fell from the leaky eaves onto the window sill. Su Chen's wrist didn't shake at all, and the wolf brush moved around the cracks in the porcelain bowl. As soon as the dark red liquid touched the porcelain, it seeped in like a living thing. The originally dazzling cracks healed instantly, as if they had never been broken.
A blind wild cat that was lying by the door to take shelter from the rain suddenly had its hair standing on end and let out a low roar towards the porcelain bowl in Su Chen's hand.
