It was difficult to deeply analyze the strangeness derived from this instant intuition, worried that she was being overly sensitive.
Because Meng Fuyuan’s voice was extremely calm, his tone also deliberately cryptic, as if he had excluded everyone, including her, from this secret.
Chen Qingwu smiled slightly, “Sorry, I seem to have asked rather presumptuously.”
Meng Fuyuan raised his hand, lightly turning the tail ring on his little finger, saying in a light voice: “It’s fine.”
Since it was absolutely impossible to break, there was no harm in telling her the meaning of the tail ring.
Just like that impossible fortune slip.
Chen Qingwu glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, “Do you have plans tonight?”
Meng Fuyuan deliberated, not knowing whether to say “yes” or “no.”
Chen Qingwu had already continued: “If you’re not in a hurry to go back, let me treat you to dinner, to thank you for making this trip today.”
After a moment of silence, Meng Fuyuan heard himself say “okay.”
Chen Qingwu then said: “Can you wait about ten minutes for me? I want to finish labeling the remaining test pieces.”
On that felt cloth were test pieces, some with labels attached, some still without.
Meng Fuyuan nodded.
Chen Qingwu pointed toward the reception area ahead, telling Meng Fuyuan he could go sit there and rest.
Meng Fuyuan said: “You go ahead with your work.”
Chen Qingwu didn’t continue with unnecessary pleasantries.
Meng Fuyuan walked toward the reception area.
Chen Qingwu picked up the test pieces from the felt cloth one by one, took a pen and label stickers, and began recording.
Before long, she heard footsteps approaching.
Looking up, it was Meng Fuyuan returning, now holding a book in his hand—Masanobu Ando’s *The Perception of Beauty*.
Meng Fuyuan walked straight toward the work table and picked up the unopened bottle of purified water there.
She withdrew her gaze and continued working.
From the corner of her eye she glimpsed Meng Fuyuan taking a sip of water, then casually picking up a labeled test piece from the tabletop.
“Reduction, cone 9.” His expression as he read with lowered eyes was very serious, “What does it mean?”
“Oh,” Chen Qingwu continued transcribing labels as she spoke, “When the oxygen and fuel ratio in the kiln is different, it produces two different atmospheres: oxidation and reduction. When oxygen exceeds fuel, it’s an oxidizing atmosphere; when fuel exceeds oxygen, it’s a reducing atmosphere.”
“What’s the difference?”
“For example, with Turkish blue glaze, because it contains copper and barium, reduction firing will produce a blue color, while oxidation firing will lean toward brown.”
Meng Fuyuan nodded, as if receiving instruction.
“Cone 9 refers to a number 9 pyrometric cone. Sometimes pyrometric cones are needed to determine the temperature inside the kiln. Different specifications of pyrometric cones have different softening points; the softening point of cone 9 is approximately around 1310°C.”
After Chen Qingwu finished speaking, she looked up at Meng Fuyuan.
Was it interesting?
Why was he listening so attentively?
She suddenly felt dejected.
Qiran wouldn’t.
Those beautiful porcelains, through what kind of tempering they went through to transform from clay into works of art—
He was never interested.
Sometimes when Zhao Yingfei came over, she would casually ask what the difference was between Lang kiln red and sacrificial red.
But Qiran had never, not even once, asked.
She didn’t notice she had been lost in thought for quite a while, until Meng Fuyuan looked up at her, “What’s wrong, Qingwu?”
“Ah… nothing.” She came back to herself, smiling faintly and shaking her head.
She had just thought of a long post she had seen on Weibo a long time ago, about the “expired sweetness” of a certain entertainment industry couple who had been divorced for many years.
There was a line in it that she really liked, so she had memorized it.
The line went: You only love me, but pay no attention to the outlet of my soul. [Note]
It was as if walking along a path, filled completely by a cool wind—cold and penetrating.
Only now did she fully understand this sentence.
Behind his lenses, Meng Fuyuan’s gaze darkened.
He had almost watched with his own eyes as melancholy rose in her eyes.
She must have been thinking of Qiran.
In about ten minutes, all those test pieces were labeled.
Chen Qingwu capped the pen with a “click,” “All done!”
Her voice carried the light cheerfulness of clocking out from work.
She walked to the sink beside and washed her hands, grabbed the canvas bag from the chair, casually slung it over her shoulder, “Let’s go.”
Walking out the studio door, sunset clouds filled the sky.
Chen Qingwu said “wait a moment,” hurriedly fumbled for her phone from the canvas bag, opened the camera, held it up toward the sky.
As she was framing the shot, Meng Fuyuan stood at her side and slightly behind, one hand in his pocket, watching without looking away.
A moment later, she said: “OK.”
Meng Fuyuan withdrew his gaze.
The restaurant was still some distance away, so the two drove there.
The setting sun faded bit by bit, the sky showing a beautiful rose pink.
Chen Qingwu rolled down the car window; wind blew in, carrying a slight scent of smoke and dust.
“By the way, Yuan-gege, didn’t you mention last time that your research progress wasn’t going smoothly, that you were stuck on component materials?”
Meng Fuyuan turned to look at her and nodded.
“I have a friend who’s a doctoral student in polymer materials science. When we had dinner last time, I asked her about it. She said her supervisor’s lab has a collaboration with the University of Tennessee, specifically researching new composite materials… I didn’t remember the exact name…” Chen Qingwu turned to look at him, “I also don’t know if this can help you, but in any case, if you need it, I can arrange for my friend to talk with you all—perhaps she could provide you with some insights or cutting-edge information.”
Meng Fuyuan was surprised.
Whether it could help or not was secondary.
What mattered was that she had been so thoughtful.
A good child who reciprocates kindness.
He felt almost apprehensive about accepting it.
Meng Fuyuan said: “If your friend is willing, then I’ll trouble you to help arrange a time.”
“When would you generally be free?”
“I’ll coordinate with your schedules.”
Chen Qingwu nodded, “Then I’ll ask her later.”
“Your friend is in East City?”
“Yes. Right in the nearby university town.”
“That’s good, you’ll have someone to look out for you.”
Chen Qingwu smiled and hummed in agreement.
They arrived at the restaurant.
Entering through a fence gate where rose vines climbed to the height of a person, there was a small courtyard with a very natural charm.
There were still seats available outdoors, so they sat outside.
The server told them to scan a code to order. After Chen Qingwu scanned it with her phone, she handed it to him.
Her phone case was a simple pure black color. Meng Fuyuan glanced at it but didn’t take it, “You’re familiar with this place. You order.”
Chen Qingwu took back her phone, “Is it okay if I order things I’ve tried before and thought were good?”
“All fine.”
Chen Qingwu selected four dishes, submitted the order, and worried that Meng Fuyuan would fight her for the bill later, she went ahead and paid for the order.
While waiting for the dishes, the two drank tea, not speaking for a moment.
After all, they weren’t particularly close yet, didn’t have that many topics they could develop.
At times like this, perhaps talking about Meng Qiran would be the most appropriate point of entry.
Meng Fuyuan looked at Chen Qingwu, then lowered his eyes to drink tea.
He would rather just remain silent like this.
Chen Qingwu put down her teacup, making casual conversation, “Yuan-gege, will you go home for Dragon Boat Festival?”
“Hard to say. I might need to go abroad around that time.” Meng Fuyuan looked up, “What about you?”
“It depends on whether the tea set I’m making for Sister An fires smoothly.”
“That’s not urgent. If it doesn’t go smoothly, I can just give her a heads up.”
“No, no. I don’t want to leave people with an unprofessional impression. I can feel that Sister An doesn’t really trust me yet. I can only let my work speak for itself.” Chen Qingwu smiled slightly, “Besides, I don’t want to damage your reputation as the person who referred me.”
Meng Fuyuan put down his teacup, “Qingwu.”
Chen Qingwu’s movements paused.
She’d had this feeling before: her parents also addressed her this way, but when Meng Fuyuan called her like this, it always seemed to carry extra meaning.
She couldn’t quite say what that was.
Meng Fuyuan looked at her: “I don’t easily use my connections to do casual favors. Introducing you to Sister An was because I absolutely believe in your ability.”
Chen Qingwu had heard quite a few words of affirmation and praise before.
But at this moment, she felt that only three people’s words carried the most weight.
One was her graduate school advisor, one was Teacher Zhai Jingtang.
And then there was Meng Fuyuan.
Because in her impression, he was someone who never engaged in flattery or pretense.
Chen Qingwu smiled, “Then I need to work even harder.”
The meal ended before they knew it.
Meng Fuyuan drove as the two returned to the studio.
The dinner topics hadn’t been deep, but already felt satisfying.
Each time alone with her felt like drinking alcohol—low proof, that slight sense of tipsiness made him vigilant.
After nightfall, he especially felt the atmosphere in the car cabin was quiet.
Even her scent, its presence felt stronger by several degrees.
Meng Fuyuan rolled down the driver’s side window, letting the wind blow in, and also turned on the car stereo.
Chen Qingwu listened for a moment, slightly startled, “It’s Qiran’s song.”
*Misty Miss*, the one Meng Qiran had sung at that performance last time.
Chen Qingwu’s lips pressed into a line, and she suddenly raised her hand, tapped the screen, and switched to the next song.
Meng Fuyuan looked at her uncomprehendingly.
Her expression was very indifferent, “I don’t think it sounds good.”
She had always hated essay assignments with set topics when she was in school. It was even more annoying when she herself became part of the assigned topic.
Meng Fuyuan didn’t make a sound.
He observed his principles, not making any judgments about the relationship between the two of them.
Although countless times he’d had the impulse to scold Qiran to put in more effort.
With Qiran’s personality, Qingwu must be the one suffering all the grievances.
But whether or not to swallow these grievances could only be decided by those within the situation themselves.
Perhaps everyone else could offer a few words of advice, but he alone could not.
Only the music continued playing in lonely succession; very soon they arrived at the studio entrance.
The car pulled over and stopped. Chen Qingwu unbuckled her seatbelt while smiling, “I’ll confirm a time with my friend later, then get in touch with you.”
Meng Fuyuan nodded.
Chen Qingwu habitually reminded him “drive safely,” and opened the car door to get out.
At the last instant the car door slammed shut, a shout from the studio entrance was carried inside: “Wuwu.”
Meng Fuyuan froze.
Turning to look through the passenger side window, in the night the person striding over in this direction was precisely Meng Qiran.
Meng Qiran walked up beside Chen Qingwu and stopped, naturally glancing into the car, a surprised expression appearing on his face: “Bro, what are you doing here?”