Su Chen sits behind the counter, holding an extremely fine wolf-hair brush. He dips it into a dark red liquid and carefully mends a cracked Ru ware porcelain bowl before him.
He looks to be in his early twenties. He wears a gray homespun shirt, washed until its color has faded. His features are refined, but there's a weariness about him that doesn't suit his age. Like the old objects arranged around the room, he is quiet and somber, and doesn't draw attention.
Rain patters outside.
"Drip."
A drop falls from the leaky eaves onto the windowsill. Su Chen's hand doesn't tremble in the slightest as the brush glides along the crack in the bowl. The moment the dark red liquid touches the porcelain, it seeps inside like a living thing. The glaring crack instantly closes, as if the bowl had never been broken.
A one-eyed stray cat sheltering from the rain by the doorway suddenly bristles and lets out a low growl at the porcelain bowl in Su Chen's hand.
