Gu Qianqian, 27 years old, is a manual rust-removing and polishing repairer of old white copper objects. I learned from my grandfather and have been in the industry for eight years. I can distinguish seventeen kinds of patina textures with my hands. The old city was about to be renovated, and before the antique street was demolished, she took the last batch of orders. In the inner liner of a hollow white copper aromatherapy ball, she found a yellowed note - "Sissi, wait for me for three years." The date of signing was the beginning of spring of the year they separated.
Shen Yan, the only son of a family of antiques, is now struggling to survive between antiques and genuine products. He once dreamed of opening a shop that only sold real old things, but now he puts high imitation white copper pen washes on the auction block. On the night of their reunion, he looked at the copper dust floating under Gu Qianqian's light and said softly: "You are still repairing things, while I am already making garbage."
One hundred days, seven old things. The restoration process is thrilling at every step: too much polishing force will erase the fifty-year-old "sesame dot" texture of the object; incomplete rust removal will cause the white copper to turn black and mottled again during the rainy season; indoor temperature and humidity change repeatedly, and new rust will creep on the newly cured patina; uneven hand stress will make the surface light and shadow distinct, as if they were reunited forever.
The rust of copperware can be carefully polished and repaired, but the deep love lost in youth can never be restored. The two people who once loved old things and enjoyed slow time together could not stay together through the years. Don't forget old things, time will never rust. This story is for everyone who tinkers with things over the years.
