When Su Qing was five years old, her father placed a newly smashed piece of lapis lazuli in her palm. The stone was cold and its fractures were rough, touching her tender palms that turned red when pinched. Her father squatted in front of her and held her little hand with his hands full of cyan nails.
"Girl Qing, please touch and see. This kind of blue is called azurite. It is the best color in Sheshan."
When she was nineteen years old, her father fell from a thirty-foot cliff. The mourning hall was located in the courtyard. The coffin was made of pine wood and was not evenly painted. Among those who came to express condolences was a young man wearing a moon-white gown, his boots stained with yellow mud. He asked: Will stones still be mined in the future? She said: Pick it.
Purpose: Craftsmanship is their way of not being forgotten