In Jiangcheng in September, the rain always carries a bit of sticky humidity. The old bluestone pavement on Wutong Street was washed out and shone brightly, reflecting the mottled gray walls and black tiles on both sides, making it look like an overly smudged ink painting.
At the end of the street, under the shadow of two thick ancient locust trees, an inconspicuous small antique building stands quietly. The black wooden door was tightly closed. Only a wooden sign on the side of the door, which had been moistened by time, was engraved with two small characters with iron paintings and silver hooks - "Return to Tibet".
"Gui Zang" is one of the three meanings of the Book of Changes. All things are returned and hidden in it.
At this time, the light in the studio was deliberately dimmed. Twenty-five-year-old Lin Yan was sitting in front of a large rosewood restoration table, with a pair of silver-rimmed flat glasses on the bridge of his nose, covering his usually cold eyes. He was wearing a gray cotton and linen shirt that had been washed white, with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. The lines of his exposed forearm were smooth and tight, and light blue blood vessels were faintly visible on the back of his hands.
He holds a very thin special wool brush in his hand, hovering over a broken white porcelain plate from the Ding Kiln of the Song Dynasty. The air was filled with the faint smell of agarwood mixed with raw lacquer, and it was so quiet that you could only hear the patter of rain outside the window.
