A film crew was shooting a ninety-minute documentary about Zhai Jingtang, and one of the filming locations was in East City. Zhai Jingtang was invited to give a lecture at a certain university in East City.

Upon learning of this, Chen Qingwu immediately contacted Teacher Zhai, wanting to treat him to a meal.

Teacher Zhai’s reply was that he wouldn’t eat, but since Chen Qingwu’s studio was also in East City, he absolutely had to visit the studio.

This was no different from a teacher calling on you in class to check your homework—Chen Qingwu naturally prepared seriously.

That day, Chen Qingwu first took Zhai Jingtang to visit the wood-fired kiln in the creative arts park, then went to her own studio.

Artists had different requirements for their workspaces. Zhai Jingtang preferred tidiness and order.

After entering, Zhai Jingtang first nodded approvingly at the clean and bright environment, saying the layout was very good and well-organized.

Chen Qingwu gave Zhai Jingtang a brief tour.

Zhai Jingtang asked, “What works have you made recently?”

Chen Qingwu showed him recent practice pieces, as well as the backup alternatives left over when firing Sister An’s set of works.

Zhai Jingtang casually picked up the “Rouge from the Northern Frontier Condensed in Night Purple” backup piece, examining it carefully while pointing out areas for improvement. “The color is a bit superficial, not solid enough. You’ve always had this problem—when making things, you always hope to fire them to satisfaction in one go. Take this cup and refire it once to try—I guarantee the effect will be richer than what you have now.”

Chen Qingwu nodded repeatedly.

Having mentioned the shortcomings, Zhai Jingtang also praised: “But the flaws don’t overshadow the merits. Your work is beginning to have your own style—very good.”

Zhai Jingtang had always been this way—strict yet kind.

Accompanying them was also a student who had been working under Zhai Jingtang, surnamed Yao. All the juniors like Chen Qingwu called him Brother Yao.

Brother Yao said, “Qingwu, when your studio is established, you should make a poster to post on WeChat Moments, otherwise how can we help promote it for you?”

Chen Qingwu felt very embarrassed. “Actually, it’s because I haven’t decided on the studio name yet—Teacher Zhai, Brother Yao, could you help me look and see which one would be better?”

Chen Qingwu brought over an A4 sheet from the work table with seven or eight names she had drafted on it.

Zhai Jingtang’s studio was called Jingnan Hall—”Jing” and “Hall” came from his name, “Nan” came from his wife’s name. When everyone learned the origin of the name, they all looked like they’d had their fill of romance.

Zhai Jingtang held up the paper to examine it carefully, pondered for quite a while, then said, “Why did you cross out this last one? I actually think this one is good.”

Brother Yao leaned in to look and also nodded. “Wuli Green. Isn’t it quite good? It connects with your name and also resembles the artistic conception of your work’s style.”

Chen Qingwu found it difficult to explain why she had written it down only to cross it out. She just smiled and said, “Then I’ll consider it again.”

After touring around, Zhai Jingtang’s steps paused slightly as he picked up a small greenish-white glazed bowl from the table. “Who made this?”

Chen Qingwu glanced at it. “It was made by a lady named Zhuang Shiying.”

“Zhuang Shiying? Is she in the industry? Why haven’t I heard this name before?”

Chen Qingwu then introduced to Zhai Jingtang the origin of that set of five porcelain bowls.

Zhai Jingtang carefully examined all five bowls and sighed admiringly, “These are really good things.—Big Yao, that plan of ours—isn’t it about to be implemented soon?”

“Yes.” Brother Yao quickly said to Chen Qingwu, “Recently, Teacher Zhai and several teachers from the porcelain capital are planning to jointly organize an exhibition—the nature is somewhat like discovering hidden masterpieces. Qingwu, I think this Teacher Zhuang’s works would be very suitable for the exhibition.”

Chen Qingwu paused. “I only have these five pieces. Won’t that be insufficient?”

“The exhibition is in the form of artist monographs—five pieces really isn’t quite enough. Can you contact her descendants? Ask if they have any more pieces in their collection. As long as they’re interested in participating, we’ll take full responsibility for subsequent transportation, security, exhibition setup, and so forth.”

Chen Qingwu hesitated for a moment and only said, “I’ll try.”

Brother Yao nodded. “Let me know once you’ve confirmed.”

After the visit ended, Zhai Jingtang and Brother Yao prepared to leave, refusing to let Qingwu treat them.

Chen Qingwu knew Teacher Zhai was a person of extreme principle and didn’t insist.

Before leaving, Brother Yao half-jokingly reminded her, “Post more in the group chat, Qingwu.”

Chen Qingwu said with a smile, “I’ll try my best.”

After seeing off Teacher Zhai and Brother Yao, Chen Qingwu returned to the studio and soon received a PDF document Brother Yao had sent her—a complete introduction to the “Pearl Collection Plan.”

Chen Qingwu finished reading it and fell into thought.

In mid-August, Grandma Chen celebrated her seventieth birthday.

Chen Qingwu returned to South City the night before. The next morning, after getting up and putting on makeup, she went with her parents to the hotel to greet guests.

Chen Suiliang grew up poor. After graduating from college, he gave up administrative work to go into business. After several ups and downs, he established his own foreign trade company and gained a foothold in South City by the time he was thirty.

Having suffered from relatives’ cold stares as a child, after making something of himself, he became very concerned with face. For this kind of occasion emphasizing grandeur, he spared no effort.

This year was his mother’s major birthday, so naturally it had to be lavishly organized, and all the Chen family’s near and distant relatives and friends had to be invited.

Chen Qingwu had participated in countless such banquets since childhood, and because of this, she understood very early on that Chen Suiliang wasn’t very satisfied with her as a daughter.

She was frail and sickly as a child, emotionally sensitive, introverted in personality. Later in high school at South City Foreign Language High School, she studied sciences and excelled academically—whether through independent enrollment or taking the college entrance exam herself, getting into a top-tier 985 university should have been no problem. But in her second year of high school, she had her mind set on applying to the Fine Arts Academy’s ceramics department and stubbornly prepared for the art exam.

A daughter who in relatives’ eyes was “playing with mud” and not doing proper work naturally could hardly add luster to Chen Suiliang’s reputation.

At the banquet hall entrance, Chen Qingwu stood together with Chen Suiliang, maintaining a smile throughout and following Chen Suiliang’s orders to address people—this uncle, that aunt… she didn’t recognize a single one, couldn’t remember faces, just smiled until her face felt stiff.

She also wasn’t used to the high heels on her feet. Standing for a long time made her calves ache faintly.

Just as she was about to find an excuse to leave and slack off, she heard Liao Shuman say, “Qiran and the others have arrived.”

Chen Qingwu stood still and looked up.

Meng Chengyong and Qilin walked in front, followed closely by Meng Qiran, with Meng Fuyuan at the back.

Liao Shuman greeted them warmly: “We saved seats especially for you—the table near the stage.”

Qilin nodded and looked toward Chen Qingwu with a smile. “Qingwu is so beautiful today! This is the first time I’ve seen you wear such a bright color.”

Meng Fuyuan had naturally seen Chen Qingwu long ago but hadn’t had a chance to look closely. He had taken his red envelope to register at the gift money table.

Hearing Qilin’s admiring remark, he couldn’t help but glance sideways toward her.

Grandma Chen loved lively, flashy things and disliked plain, light colors. She had asked the younger generation to definitely dress festively.

Chen Qingwu was wearing a crimson brocade patterned qipao today, with dark blue piping and a standing collar. Her black hair and fair skin made her especially striking.

Qilin put her arm around Chen Qingwu’s and said to Meng Qiran, “Qiran, take a photo of Qingwu and me together.”

Meng Qiran took out his phone and opened the camera.

Qilin said with a smile, “A photo together—don’t just focus on photographing Qingwu.”

Meng Qiran went along with her joke and said with a smile, “You’ve already discovered that?”

After the photo was taken, Qilin let go.

Chen Qingwu smiled and said, “Auntie, you all go in and sit first.”

Qilin nodded. “Come sit at my table later, Qingwu.”

Meng Fuyuan finished registering the gift money and then turned to walk over.

Chen Suiliang greeted him and said with a smile, “I heard your company has been very busy lately, Fuyuan. You haven’t been home since Dragon Boat Festival. It’s kind of you to make a special trip today.”

Meng Fuyuan said evenly, “Grandma Chen’s major birthday—by reason and sentiment I should attend.”

After exchanging pleasantries, Meng Fuyuan followed his parents and younger brother into the banquet hall.

Passing by Chen Qingwu, his steps paused slightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw her entire person was like white plum blossoms blooming in sacrificial red porcelain—beautiful enough to startle the heart.

Chen Qingwu held her breath for a moment and revealed the kind of formulaic smile she had perfected today.

She saw Meng Fuyuan nod slightly with barely perceptible amplitude.

Greeting guests finally ended. Chen Qingwu was led into the banquet hall by Liao Shuman’s arm.

The Chen family side had close relatives and friends. Chen Suiliang and Liao Shuman both sat at this table. Only Chen Qingwu was forcibly pulled by Qilin to sit at their table.

Qilin had Meng Qiran sitting on her left and Meng Fuyuan on her right.

Meng Qiran had probably given advance notice—Qilin didn’t have her sit next to Meng Qiran but pulled her to sit on her own right side.

Qilin said with a smile, “Fuyuan, move over there a bit. I want Qingwu next to me.”

Without a word, Meng Fuyuan stood up and moved one seat to the right.

Chen Qingwu sat down.

Sitting between Qilin and Meng Fuyuan.

There was a teapot on the table. Meng Fuyuan picked it up, took the cup in front of Chen Qingwu, poured a cup of hot tea, and placed it back in front of her.

The movement was extremely natural, without any extra meaning, as if at this moment the person sitting beside him was another familiar friend and he would react the same way.

Chen Qingwu reached out to receive it and smiled, saying softly, “Thank you.”

Meng Fuyuan kept his promise. Since that day, he really hadn’t sought her out even once.

As if returning to before—the kind of relationship where they only liked each other’s WeChat Moments posts.

Except she posted rarely on Moments, and Meng Fuyuan posted even less.

If not for the large family group chat where she occasionally saw his replies, she would suspect this person had evaporated from the world.

Today both brothers wore formal attire. The suit on Meng Qiran was a lighter color, complementing his young, clean temperament.

Meng Fuyuan’s outfit was dark-colored, carrying a kind of refined nobility from shadowy, quiet depths where still waters run deep.

She always felt she’d rather sit next to Meng Qiran—at least then she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable even breathing.

Qilin eagerly inquired about Chen Qingwu’s recent situation. “How’s the studio’s business, Qingwu? You must be very busy lately.”

“I have three orders lined up. From morning to night, all molding clay—definitely a bit busy.” Chen Qingwu said with a smile.

“How many days will you stay this time?”

“I have to go back tomorrow. I have an appointment to meet a client.”

Qilin smiled somewhat wistfully. “Sometimes I really don’t want you children to grow up. Each of you drifting outside—who knows how long before we can all gather together once.”

Before college, Chen Qingwu had lived in South City. The Meng household was almost like her second home.

Qilin loved liveliness. Every time Chen Qingwu stayed over at the Meng house, she would tirelessly cook herself. Chen Qingwu often felt embarrassed, but she would say that being able to make the children eat happily made her happy too. She was someone with a strong sense of family and therefore always organized gatherings during holidays.

Chen Qingwu said with a smile, “You can come to East City with my mom to visit me.”

“You said it? I’ll come next week.”

“Great.”

Before the luncheon began, there was still a ceremony. Chen Suiliang went on stage to give a speech thanking his mother for raising him. That speech was written by Chen Suiliang himself—sincere and deeply moving. Grandma Chen listened with tears welling in her eyes.

After the ceremony ended, the banquet officially began.

Chen Suiliang came over with Liao Shuman to offer toasts. Meng Chengyong couldn’t help but tease, though not as directly as usual: “This still isn’t the toast I most want to drink.”

Chen Suiliang said with a laugh, “That I can’t help with—each to their own fate.”

After the toast, everyone began eating.

At Chen Qingwu’s table, everyone politely rotated the lazy Susan, peaceful and refined.

Meng Chengyong chatted with his eldest son across the table, asking how the cooperation with the Lu family and research development were progressing.

Meng Fuyuan said evenly, “The materials aspect already has direction—still in the preparation and testing phase.”

Meng Chengyong nodded. “Good.”

Chen Qingwu had noticed long ago that Meng Fuyuan was far less close with his parents than Meng Qiran was with his. Perhaps because he was the eldest son, he always bore more of the parents’ expectations.

Naturally, he also lived a more repressed and introspective life.

Chen Qingwu ate small bites of food and turned her head to glance at Meng Fuyuan.

After brief consideration, she still decided to forget it—not to trouble him with the “Pearl Collection Plan” matter.

Given his personality, he would definitely feel duty-bound to help, but she really… didn’t know how to repay him.

Just as she was spacing out, she suddenly heard someone say, “Miss, please be careful. Serving food here—be careful not to get burned.”

Chen Qingwu came back to her senses and realized the server was holding a large bowl of conpoy soup, standing between her and Qilin.

Seeing the server having difficulty moving sideways, Chen Qingwu instinctively leaned her body to the other side.

The approaching fragrance was like some kind of flower blooming in the slightly cool dusk.

Meng Fuyuan lowered his eyes, his expression blank.

The soup bowl was set down, the server left, and Chen Qingwu straightened her posture again.

As if only in his world, a beat had been missed.

The luncheon ended. Tables dispersed one after another, except for some of the Chen family’s immediate relatives.

Before leaving the banquet hall, Meng Fuyuan ultimately couldn’t help but look back once—because he didn’t know when the next time they’d meet would be.

Chen Qingwu was standing with her parents, offering toasts to a certain Chen family relative. Throughout, she only cooperatively smiled—that smile was so stiff that just one glance made one feel uncomfortable.

But he had no right whatsoever to take her away from this occasion.

Meng Fuyuan withdrew his gaze. “Mom, Dad, you go to the car first. Director Liu from Second Hospital is also here—I’ll go say hello.”

Meng Chengyong and Qilin nodded without suspicion.

Watching the three of them pass through the corridor, turn the corner, and head toward the hotel entrance, Meng Fuyuan unconsciously turned the pinky ring on his little finger, then turned back to the banquet hall.

He briefly exchanged pleasantries with Director Liu, then turned and walked toward Chen Qingwu.

Naturally, Chen Suiliang and the Chen family relatives engaged in toasting saw Meng Fuyuan and greeted him one after another.

Meng Fuyuan also patiently exchanged a few pleasantries, then asked Chen Suiliang with a smile, “Could I borrow Qingwu for a bit of time? I have a friend who wants to collaborate with Teacher Zhai Jingtang and would like to ask Qingwu to help make an introduction.”

Chen Suiliang quickly said, “She’s already finished eating and has nothing else to do—Qingwu, you go ahead.”

Chen Qingwu nodded.

Meng Fuyuan glanced at Chen Qingwu, then turned around. “Let’s go.”

Walking all the way to the banquet hall entrance, Meng Fuyuan said calmly, “Sorry, the introduction matter was something I made up on the spot. I saw you seemed unable to leave for a while.”

Chen Qingwu was startled. “…Thank you.”

While she admired Meng Fuyuan’s attentiveness, she also vaguely experienced an inexpressible sadness.

At the same time, she subtly felt the irony—sometimes an outsider’s single sentence carried far more weight with Chen Suiliang than her own words.

“There’s no particular arrangement at home this afternoon. You can come over and sit for a while.” His tone was so flat no emotion could be heard.

Chen Qingwu smiled. “Thank you, but I’m planning to go home and take a nap… Coming over would also take up your time entertaining me. I won’t intrude today.”

“Do you need me to drive you home?”

“No need, no need. I’ll call a car myself.”

Meng Fuyuan nodded, unable to say anything more. “Then I’ll go first.”

Chen Qingwu smiled and thanked him again.

Meng Fuyuan didn’t look at her again. He turned and quickly walked out.

Between them, it had become so awkward that even the family friendship relationship could no longer be easily maintained.

The car had already been waiting in the parking lot for a while.

Meng Fuyuan pulled open the car door and sat in the back seat.

Qilin hadn’t touched alcohol, so she would drive back. Meng Qiran sat in the passenger seat.

“Qiran, what’s actually going on between you and Qingwu now?”

“I told you before—don’t pressure her.”

“I haven’t! Have you seen me pressure her once in front of her? Haven’t I only been asking you privately?” Qilin glanced at the passenger seat. “Just now several Chen family relatives were asking—when can we drink to your and Qingwu’s wedding?”

Meng Qiran lazily lifted his eyes. “Don’t manage this matter for the time being.”

“As if I want to manage it! You stubborn thing! Such a good girl—if you don’t act quickly, someone else will take advantage of the opportunity.”

“I have my own plans. Don’t interfere.”

Qilin said, “You’d better really have plans.”

From beginning to end, Meng Fuyuan didn’t participate in the conversation. Feeling inexplicably irritated, he reached out to open the car window and turned to face only outside.

Upon arriving home, Meng Fuyuan greeted his parents and was just about to go upstairs to rest when Meng Qiran called out to him. “Bro, I want to ask you something.”

Meng Fuyuan stopped at the stairway. “What is it?”

Meng Qiran’s expression was especially serious. “I’m planning to open a modification workshop with a friend. I haven’t been involved in this area before, so I want to ask what things need attention when partnering with people.”

“Not racing anymore?” Meng Fuyuan looked him over.

“After next month’s finals I’ll stop for now—might only participate in one or two amateur races. Want to get my career started first.” Meng Qiran’s expression held some determination. “Planning to open the workshop in East City—that way I’ll be closer to Wuwu and can spend more time with her.”

Meng Fuyuan didn’t offer any evaluation. He started walking upstairs. “I’ll organize the points to note into a document and send it to you.”

“Thanks! I’ll treat you to a meal when I’m in East City.”

Meng Fuyuan’s steps didn’t stop.

Reaching the third floor, he opened the study door and sat down in the chair behind the desk, silently looking at the empty single-person sofa in the corner.

He lit a cigarette, took his key to unlock the drawer, and removed a cowhide notebook from within.

Opening it, he took out a Polaroid photo from between the pages.

His body slumped back wearily, staring at the photo in his hand.

Why did everyone else’s orbit continue operating normally?

Only his had gone off track—the inertial collision triggering continuous disasters.

Crashing into ruins.

After returning to East City, Meng Fuyuan personally organized a document and sent it to Meng Qiran.

Clearly Qiran’s determination was firm this time. From time to time he reported progress—how site selection was going, how responsibilities and rights were distributed with his partner friend, how business registration was progressing… indeed wholeheartedly pursuing his career.

Whenever Qiran had questions, he would appropriately offer a few pointers.

Progress was fast. In about another month or so, Qiran’s workshop would be completely set up.

This day, SEMedical’s person in charge, Lu Xiling, came to East City for inspection and visits. Meng Fuyuan was responsible for reception.

After the inspection ended, he also arranged dinner.

In truth, he and Lu Xiling were alumni. Back then they had both heard of each other, but the Meng family did light industry trade while the Lu family did medical equipment—two completely unrelated fields.

Back then the two could be considered equally brilliant. If they had known each other earlier, they might not have failed to become close friends.

For this collaboration, Lu Xiling had battled wits with the company’s conservative faction, overcoming all objections to finally finalize it.

After finishing dinner with Lu Xiling, Meng Fuyuan returned to the company lab for a while.

The company didn’t mandate overtime. After regular hours, everyone decided for themselves whether to stay or leave.

Meng Fuyuan went to the break room to refill his coffee and ran into an engineer from R&D in the hallway.

“President Meng hasn’t gone home yet? The news said a typhoon is making landfall tonight.”

Meng Fuyuan said, “Getting ready to leave.”

“Then I’ll head out first.”

Meng Fuyuan nodded.

The entire three-story building was already silent and empty.

Near midnight, Meng Fuyuan left the company and returned to his apartment.

After washing up, he had reached the limits of exhaustion. The moment he closed his eyes, he fell asleep.

Sleeping until early morning, he was woken by the slight rattling sound of glass outside. Rain was falling outside—the downpour was alarming. Looking out, everything was pitch black. Even the city’s neon lights were blurred.

Once awake, he had no more sleepiness. He turned on the TV. The news reported that the typhoon hadn’t made direct landfall but had grazed past, turning in a northeasterly direction.

Meng Fuyuan opened his phone and clicked into the pinned avatar’s WeChat Moments.

It was just an habitual action. Because he had too many friends and felt browsing Moments wasted time, he worried he might miss her updates.

She rarely posted on Moments, so this checking action often came up empty.

But unexpectedly, this time a new post appeared, posted just 10 minutes ago.

His finger paused as he hurried to look.

Chen Qingwu:

Commemorating this year’s first kiln explosion on typhoon day.

The accompanying image showed a kiln full of shattered ceramic fragments.

Zhao Yingfei had recently been dizzy and dazed with publication matters. Unable to stay in the dorm, she often ran to Chen Qingwu’s place to pull all-nighters writing her thesis, continuing to revise her “Zhao Yingfei SCI Seventh Draft Absolutely Won’t Revise 3.0” document.

At 1 AM, Zhao Yingfei’s thesis had made no progress. Extremely tired, she tossed aside her computer and went to sleep.

Chen Qingwu was heartbroken and had no sleepiness whatsoever—the underglaze decorated plates had exploded in firing. After collecting herself for quite a while to accept reality, she crouched there in mental collapse cleaning the kiln, picking out ceramic fragments bit by bit.

Suddenly, a knocking sound came from the door.

She was startled and called out loudly, “Who is it?”

“It’s me. Qingwu.”

Chen Qingwu froze.

After a long moment, she finally put down the ceramic fragment in her hand, quickly walked over, and opened the door.

Outside, torrential rain was pouring down.

Meng Fuyuan held a black umbrella, his body carrying the heavy scent of rainwater.

In the shadow cast by the umbrella, he bowed his head slightly, his gaze behind the lenses especially deep and quiet.

“I saw you said the kiln exploded. Are you alright?” he asked in a low voice.

That voice mixed in with the rain, like some kind of muffled echo.