Before, when Fang Chi watched Sun Wenqu make pottery, his attention was never on the pottery, only on him.
Sun Wenqu could sit at the wheel for hours, and Fang Chi would watch for hours. But he never wondered how it was made, or why it took so long.
Now that it was his turn, he finally understood where all that time went.
Even for such a basic plate, after shaping came endless trimming, pressing, smoothing.
Without Sun Wenqu, with his level of skill, where every touch left a dent, even days wouldn’t be enough to make something usable.
So this was the kind of work Sun Wenqu did: a little fun at the start, then all patience and discipline afterward.
Fang Chi looked at him and seemed to understand a little more, how that calm, unbothered, almost lazy demeanor had been cultivated.
But there was still something he couldn’t figure out: Sun Wenqu was usually so lazy, how could he keep sitting there like this, enduring a sore back and aching shoulders without moving?
This guy’s personality was way too inconsistent.
“Why do you have to knead it for so long?” Fang Chi kept following Sun Wenqu, pressing and shaping the plate. “It already looks pretty flat and smooth to me.”
“If there are air bubbles, it’ll crack when it’s fired,” Sun Wenqu said.
“Oh,” Fang Chi looked at him. “Are you tired?”
After dinner, they went back inside and continued working on the plate. Without realizing it, they had been sitting there for over two hours, repeating the same adjustments again and again.
“I’m used to it,” Sun Wenqu said. “By tomorrow morning, I probably won’t feel anything.”
“If you keep doing this, you’ll strain your lower back muscles,” Fang Chi knocked his own lower back a couple of times. “How about I give you a massage…”
“You can test whether my back is strained or not,” Sun Wenqu said.
“Huh, d*mn,” Fang Chi laughed. “Right now?”
“Behave yourself in your own house,” Sun Wenqu shot him a sideways glance. “Xiaozi’s downstairs holding a torch.”
Fang Chi laughed and stretched. “Want me to massage your back?”
“In a bit,” Sun Wenqu stretched as well. “That’s about enough for today. By the time you go back to school, it should be finished.”
“No way,” Fang Chi froze. “That long? I thought we could use it to serve food tomorrow.”
“In your dreams. It needs to dry, and then it has to be fired,” Sun Wenqu said. “But since this one’s thin, it won’t take as long.”
It was almost midnight when Sun Wenqu finally said the plate was ready. He casually picked up a small bamboo stick and pressed lightly and heavily around the rim, creating a wavy pattern.
“So beautiful,” Fang Chi had been feeling tired, but at that moment he became excited again. He bent over and stared at the plate for a long time, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. “We made this together.”
“Mm.” Sun Wenqu nodded.
“We made it together,” Fang Chi repeated.
“Mm.”
“This is the first thing we’ve made together,” Fang Chi said, looking up at him.
“Yes,” Sun Wenqu leaned in and kissed him. “If you want, we can make something more complicated together in the future.”
“Okay.” Fang Chi grinned.
“Really? I thought you were tired,” Sun Wenqu said.
“I wouldn’t do it if I had to make it by myself, but if you’re doing it with me, then I’m fine,” Fang Chi said.
Sun Wenqu smiled, picked up a brush from the tools beside him. Fang Chi paused. “Didn’t you say we weren’t going to add color?”
“I’m just going to write a few characters,” Sun Wenqu said as he slowly mixed the pigment. “What should I write…”
“Sun Wenqu is Fang Chi’s,” Fang Chi said without thinking.
Sun Wenqu laughed as soon as he heard it. “Alright.”
“Wait,” Fang Chi said with a grin. “What if someone sees it?”
“They will,” Sun Wenqu said, curling his lips.
Fang Chi hesitated for a few seconds, then clicked his tongue. “If they see it, they see it. Just write that.”
Sun Wenqu didn’t say anything else. He picked up the brush and began writing on the bottom of the plate.
Fang Chi felt like his eyes couldn’t keep up. He hadn’t really watched Sun Wenqu write with a brush before, he wanted to watch the characters appear stroke by stroke from the tip, but also wanted to look at Sun Wenqu’s long fingers holding the brush, and his lowered eyelids, that focused, self-contained aura…
Too much to take in.
Fang Chi even softened his breathing, his gaze darting between Sun Wenqu’s face, hands, the brush tip, and the plate.
When the first character was finished, he froze. He couldn’t tell what it was.
But he didn’t ask, he was afraid of disturbing Sun Wenqu. Whenever Sun Wenqu immersed himself in something, Fang Chi would instinctively stay quiet, as if interrupting him now would get him smacked across the face with the brush.
Since he couldn’t recognize the first character, he focused on the brush tip instead.
Watching someone who writes beautifully is a kind of enjoyment, the smooth, flowing strokes, the well-balanced structure, each character appearing so effortlessly, with a sense of beauty.
Even if he didn’t recognize them.
He could still feel the beauty.
He barely managed to guess the second character, it was the traditional form of “wen”.
Sun Wenqu had indeed written “Sun Wenqu is Fang Chi’s” but after all seven characters were done, Fang Chi had only roughly recognized “wen” and “is.”
After finishing the last stroke, Sun Wenqu let out a soft breath and set the brush down.
“What kind of characters are those?” Fang Chi finally got the chance to ask.
“Seal script,” Sun Wenqu said. “Didn’t you want to write it but not have people recognize it? This works. Your grandparents definitely won’t recognize it, and your classmates probably won’t either.”
Fang Chi laughed happily. “I’ve realized, you’re really… very different. Totally different from anyone else.”
“Now we just wait for the plate to dry,” Sun Wenqu stood up, stretching as he hooked an arm around Fang Chi’s neck and kissed him. “We can sleep.”
When Fang Chi lay down in his room, he felt like he had been amazing today. Even the goodnight kiss hadn’t made him “stand at attention,” nor had he clung to Sun Wenqu, unwilling to go back to his room.
Maybe he was tired. Or maybe it was because he had spent the whole day watching Sun Wenqu, and it had been too satisfying…
Of course, as he closed his eyes, it might also be because he could tell Sun Wenqu didn’t want to be too intimate at home.
He had always thought he was the only one who felt this tense. He hadn’t expected that someone like Sun Wenqu, who always seemed to not care about anything, would be like this too.
It was because he was thinking about him.
Even though Sun Wenqu’s reaction put more pressure on him, he couldn’t suppress the happiness in his heart.
Because of him, someone who used to not care about anything had become cautious.
He lay in bed for half an hour without falling asleep, tossing and turning until he felt like he’d fried himself into a golden, crispy egg on both sides.
In the end, he got up again and quietly went to the rooftop for a cigarette.
His grandparents were already asleep; he was being quiet so Sun Wenqu wouldn’t hear him.
After finishing the cigarette and staring at the backyard for a while, he sneaked back inside like a thief.
Once the plate was done, it was left there to dry. Whenever Fang Chi had a moment, he would go check on it. He had already memorized every stroke of those characters, if you handed him a brush now, he could write them out immediately.
When the plate was finally dry enough to go into the electric kiln, he once again understood how Sun Wenqu could sit for hours beside the kiln at Ma Liang’s studio.
What would it turn out like?
What color would it be?
Would it crack halfway through firing because his work wasn’t as professional as Sun Wenqu’s?
“I think you chose the wrong major in university,” his grandma said, patting him while he watched his grandpa tending the vegetable patch. “You should go apprentice under Wenqu and learn to fire plates.”
“Forget it,” Fang Chi laughed. “That relationship would be way too complicated.”
Father, grandfather, and then a master, if you laid it out, it would sound like some shameless illicit affair.
“Can this plate hold food?” his grandma asked.
“It can,” Fang Chi nodded. “It should… be able to.”
“This one’s a bit small. It won’t match the set Wenqu made before,” she said with some regret.
“This one’s not staying at home,” Fang Chi said with a smile. “I’m taking it back to school.”
“To school?” she looked at him. “What are you bringing a plate to school for?”
“No idea. For the memory, I guess. Wenqu and I made it together.”
“I’ve never seen you care this much about anything else,” his grandma sat down beside him. “You seem even closer to Wenqu than to Xiao Yiming.”
“They’re… different,” Fang Chi said, carefully but boldly.
“Different?” she turned to look at him, curious. “How so?”
“Xiao Yiming is my best bro,” Fang Chi picked up a stone and tossed it in his hand. “Wenqu is… someone even closer than that.”
“What does that mean?” she didn’t understand.
Fang Chi tossed the stone, caught it, squeezed it in his fingers, and bit his lip. “If Wenqu were a girl, I’d marry her.”
“Oh,” his grandma froze for a moment, then laughed and smacked his back. “What nonsense are you talking?”
“I’m not joking.” Fang Chi smiled, though his whole body felt a little stiff, his heart nearly leaping into his throat from that smack.
“Your grandpa said you haven’t met a girl you like at school?” she asked.
“Mm, no,” Fang Chi went back to tossing the stone. “There are fewer girls at our school than others.”
“Wrong school,” she sighed, then added, “But there are still girls, right? Not a single one you like?”
“No.” Fang Chi shook his head.
“Didn’t think your standards were that high,” she said with some disdain. “You even played ‘wedding ceremony’ with Si Ya back then, and she wasn’t exactly pretty…”
Fang Chi laughed. “If she heard that, she’d cry.”
“I’m not saying it to her face,” she nudged him and lowered her voice. “So what kind do you like?”
“I don’t know,” Fang Chi said with a smile.
“I’ll smack you a couple times and you’ll know,” she pinched his arm. “Say it.”
Fang Chi stayed silent for a long while before turning to her. “Good-looking, can play music, can paint, writes well… all the arts…”
“Where are you going to find someone like that! Even if they exist, they wouldn’t pick you!” she frowned, then paused and turned her head. “Sounds like Wenqu fits that description.”
“Yeah.” Fang Chi smiled and threw the stone away.
Xiaozi, who had been waiting impatiently, barked and chased after it.
“Such nonsense,” his grandma stood up and went to help his grandpa with watering the vegetables.
“I’m very serious,” Fang Chi said.
He had spoken to his grandma in a half-joking tone, but after she walked away, he felt a thin layer of sweat on his back.
A faint cool breeze blew past, and he shivered.
Back inside, upstairs, he entered Sun Wenqu’s room. Sun Wenqu was standing by the electric kiln.
“Is it ready?” Fang Chi asked immediately. He had class the day after tomorrow and needed to head back to the city tomorrow at noon to catch the evening bus to school. He was a bit anxious.
“It’ll be ready tomorrow morning,” Sun Wenqu said, touching his face. “Finished chatting with your grandma?”
“Mm.” Fang Chi leaned in and hugged him.
“What did you talk about?” Sun Wenqu asked.
“Nothing much,” Fang Chi rubbed his lips against his neck. “She asked about school.”
“Oh,” Sun Wenqu rested a hand on his waist. “I’ll take you to the station tomorrow, but I won’t go all the way back to school with you.”
“You can’t escort me every time,” Fang Chi laughed. “But once you’re done with your work, you have to come see me.”
“Mm.” Sun Wenqu nodded.
Fang Chi sat on a chair and swayed a bit, sighing. “The next time I come back, it’ll be winter break.”
“It’s only a few months,” Sun Wenqu said. “Didn’t these past half a month fly by?”
“Hopefully,” Fang Chi leaned his head back. “During the New Year… are you going home?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see,” Sun Wenqu looked at him. “If not, I’ll go to Liangzi’s place.”
Fang Chi suddenly sat up and stared at him. Sun Wenqu didn’t say anything. After staring for a while, Fang Chi leaned back again. “Yeah… you can’t come here every year for New Year.”
“Mm,” Sun Wenqu walked up behind him, cupped his face, and looked down at him. “Some things can’t go wrong before we’re ready, otherwise we’ll be put in a very passive position.”
“I know,” Fang Chi said. “Then later, after I’ve smoothed this hurdle over, you have to come spend New Year with me, every year.”
“Okay.” Sun Wenqu smiled.
When the plate was finished firing, it was even more beautiful than Fang Chi had imagined, no cracks, not even a hint of damage.
He held the plate and looked at the characters on the bottom, grinning foolishly. “Look at this, this isn’t like an ordinary plate. Those are plates; this is a work of art.”
“So you’re saying you’re half an artist now?” Grandma laughed from the side.
“Half,” Fang Chi nodded shamelessly.
“If it weren’t for Wenqu, you’d have fired a pile of shards,” Grandpa said with a chuckle, taking the plate to look at it. “Bury it in the ground, dig it up ten years later, and sell it at the market as a fake antique.”
“Grandpa, you really know your stuff,” Fang Chi laughed.
“If your grandma hadn’t tied me down back then, I would’ve gone off with people to do exactly that,” Grandpa said, chuckling.
“Who tied you down?” Grandma raised her voice. “People really can rewrite history after a few decades without even getting dementia!”
Fang Chi laughed and put an arm around her shoulders. “Grandma, they don’t call it dementia now, it’s called Alz…”
“What’s it got to do with you!” Grandma clicked her tongue. “Go pack your things, you’re not going back to school?”
Everything was packed. Fang Chi brought back his summer clothes and took some autumn and winter clothes from home. He even found a shoebox, wrapped the plate in clothes, and placed it inside.
“Once it’s fired, it’s not that easy to break,” Sun Wenqu said, smiling at the shoebox.
“This is a family heirloom,” Fang Chi said. “I have to start preserving it properly from now on.”
“Who are you passing it down to?” Sun Wenqu replied casually, then paused after saying it.
“If I pick up a kid in the future, I’ll give it to them,” Fang Chi laughed. “If not… I’ll just take it with me when I die.”
Sun Wenqu nudged the door shut with his foot, walked up to him, and kissed him.
When they drove back to the city, Grandpa held onto Xiaozi and didn’t let it chase after the car. Xiaozi barked anxiously, and they could still hear it long after the car had driven far away.
“Man, it’s always Xiaozi, every time I don’t want to feel sad, it makes me sad anyway,” Fang Chi sighed from the passenger seat.
“You’ll be back for New Year. It’s fine,” Sun Wenqu said.
“I’ll bring you some local specialties when I come back for New Year,” Fang Chi thought for a moment. “Though I don’t even know what there is… it’s so close, probably the same stuff as here…”
“Bring them back? Aren’t you going to have me pick you up for winter break?” Sun Wenqu asked.
“Yes,” Fang Chi said immediately. “Of course!”
Fang Chi didn’t have much luggage, just one suitcase, and the shoebox in his hands.
Sun Wenqu couldn’t help laughing when he saw it. “If you’re going to use a shoebox, at least pick one that matches your style, running shoes or hiking boots or something. And you picked one for old Beijing cloth shoes.”
“This size fits just right,” Fang Chi looked down at the box and laughed. “I bought it for my grandpa.”
“Once you get on the bus, don’t fall asleep hugging it,” Sun Wenqu said. “With that posture, even a thief would feel justified stealing it.”
“Alright, I’m heading in,” Fang Chi grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll call you when I get to school.”
“Mm.” Sun Wenqu nodded.
He watched Fang Chi walk into the station, turning back every few steps, before finally turning around himself.
On the way back to Ma Liang’s place, Sun Wenqu stopped to wash the car and called Ma Liang, telling him to wait so they could eat together.
“Eating out?” Ma Liang asked.
“Just have your wife buy some groceries and cook at home,” Sun Wenqu said. “I’ve got work coming up, don’t feel like going out.”
“Alright,” Ma Liang said. “Ah, lovesick, huh.”
Sun Wenqu laughed. “You jealous?”
“I’m jea–jealous,” Ma Liang said. “We’ve been good for so many years, and now you’ve been… torn apart.”
“Give me a break. We were split up by your wife first,” Sun Wenqu said.
“True,” Ma Liang said seriously. “I’ll punish her by making her cook some good dishes later.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sun Wenqu laughed.
When he reached the intersection near Ma Liang’s studio, he saw Hu Yuanyuan, the one “responsible” for breaking him and Ma Liang apart, out buying groceries.
“Hey, big sister…” he rolled down the window.
“Who are you calling ‘big sister’!” Hu Yuanyuan shouted before even turning her head. When she saw it was him, she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, isn’t this my nephew’s boyfriend? Don’t call me ‘big sister,’ call me auntie!”
“Get in,” Sun Wenqu laughed.
“Fang Chi went back?” she asked as she got in.
“Mm. He should arrive around the time we finish eating,” Sun Wenqu said.
“I thought you’d only stay at his house for a day or two,” she said. “You stayed for several days, weren’t you afraid his family would notice something?”
“I shouldn’t have stayed that long,” Sun Wenqu sighed.
“Oh?” she glanced at him. “I thought you’d say you didn’t care.”
Sun Wenqu just smiled.
“Looks like it’s serious,” she lifted the groceries. “When you two sort things out, I’ll cook you a big celebratory meal.”
The studio was empty, Ma Liang hadn’t kept anyone for overtime today. The kiln wouldn’t be opened for a few more days, so there wasn’t much going on.
“Picked up my w-wife on the way?” he asked, looking at Hu Yuanyuan getting out of the car.
“Mm,” Sun Wenqu opened his arms. “Miss me?”
“Missed you to death,” Ma Liang played along and hugged him.
“Liangzi, did you buy alcohol?” Hu Yuanyuan asked as she headed into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Ma Liang said, pulling Sun Wenqu inside by the shoulder. “Gotta tell you… something.”
“Mm?” Sun Wenqu poured himself a glass of water and looked at him.
Ma Liang waved his phone. “Your son just… called me.”
“He called you?” Sun Wenqu was surprised.
“Mm. Told me to keep it a secret,” Ma Liang said. “I’m telling you anyway, just don’t make me lose face.”
“Of course,” Sun Wenqu smiled. “What did he want?”
“When Li Bowen goes to start that farmhouse business,” Ma Liang said, “he told me to let him know.”
“Tell him? Why doesn’t he just ask me? If you know, you’d tell me anyway,” Sun Wenqu said.
“He said… not to tell you either,” Ma Liang replied.
“So when Li Bowen starts the farmhouse, you don’t tell me, just tell him?” Sun Wenqu asked.
“Mm.” Ma Liang nodded.
“He’s…” Sun Wenqu sank into the sofa, narrowing his eyes slightly. Fang Chi was planning to handle all of this on his own.
Impressive.
