The Most Beautiful Crystal Is Born from the Brokenness

On a rainy June day, Su Jin broke her grandfather's relic, a celadon tea cup, on the bluestone road in the ancient town of Jiangnan. The moment the porcelain fragments were splashed, a man in a linen shirt squatted down and carefully picked up the fragments with his slender fingers: "Try the goldsmithing craftsmanship." His name is Chen Mo. When he speaks, the curve of his eyelashes is like the new leaves of the century-old ginkgo tree at the entrance of the town. Three days later, Su Jin found the studio between the white walls and black tiles, and saw him mixing gold powder with raw lacquer, putting her broken pieces back together bit by bit. "Why use gold thread?" She looked at the golden veins on the tea cup in trance. "Because being broken is not the end." He turned the porcelain cup, and the golden light flowed in the rain and mist. "Where the wound heals, a lifeline stronger than the original will grow." At the research institute at ten o'clock in the night, while Su Jin was rubbing her temples against the city planning map, a message from Chen Mo suddenly popped up on her phone: "The ginkgo trees are starting to fall." In the attached photo, the golden leaves covered the stone steps, which exactly spelled out the abbreviation of her name. She ran to the studio with her computer and found warm almond tea on the windowsill. Chen Mo was taking pictures of the finished tea cup, and the camera turned to focus on her hair stained with raindrops: "Would you like to hear a story? About the oldest ginkgo tree in this town."