The dilapidated courtyard was deathly still. The only mud house had its doors and windows tightly shut, with a heavy iron chain and a large brass lock hanging on the door. The thug left behind to guard the house stood like a stone statue, arms crossed, leaning against the courtyard wall, his triangular eyes occasionally scanning the cracks in the doors and windows with a fierce look.
There were no lights in the room, only a faint sliver of daylight seeping through the crack in the door. On the cold earthen bed, Jiang Chan huddled in a corner, her back to the door. Occasionally, the heavy breathing and impatient pacing of the guards could be heard from outside.
She remained motionless, like a stone. The trembling in her body had long since stopped. The tear tracks on her face had dried, leaving only taut lines.
The black blood splattered on the porcelain bottle by the original owner's father, his unseeing eyes, and the nauseatingly warm and greasy feeling of Zhao Kui pinching her chin were branded into her memory like a hot iron.
Anger burned in my chest, cold yet scorching.
The lingering fear and sadness that belonged to Su He in her mind was forcibly suppressed little by little.
If she were to weep weakly, she would only end up like Master Su, dying silently and without a trace.
The sky was completely dark. The thugs guarding outside seemed exhausted; they leaned against the wall, motionless, and could be heard snoring softly.
Right now.
Jiang Chan sat up silently, her movements as light as a cat's. She didn't act immediately, but listened quietly. The snoring continued, very deep. Only then did she slowly move to the edge of the earthen bed, her bare feet touching the cold ground.
She walked to the corner of the room. There, some firewood and miscellaneous items were piled up. An inconspicuous old earthenware jar stood dusty behind the clutter, its rim covered in a thick layer of grime. This was where her father's last gaze fell.
Jiang Chan crouched down, her fingers carefully tracing the rough outer surface of the pottery jar. A cold sensation reached her fingertips. The jar was intact, without any hidden compartments, and its weight was normal. She carefully lifted the jar; the bottom was empty except for years of accumulated dust. Her heart sank.
No! The look in the original owner's father's eyes before he died was definitely not meaningless! He used his last strength to look at this pottery jar!
Undeterred, she gently placed the earthenware jar back in its original position, her gaze falling on the patch of mud beneath it that had been pressing down on it. The soil seemed subtly different in color from the surrounding area. She gently scraped away the loose surface soil with her fingernail.
My fingertips touched something hard and cold. It wasn't stone, it was wood!
Jiang Chan held her breath and quickened her pace, carefully removing the loose soil around her. A square wooden plank was revealed, its edges embedded in the mud, almost blending into the surrounding soil. She gripped the edge of the plank and pried it up forcefully!
The wooden board was lifted, revealing a small, dark pit about half a foot square underneath!
Jiang Chan's heart suddenly raced. She reached out and groped at the bottom of the pit. Her fingertips quickly touched a hard, square object covered in something. She pulled it out.
By the faint light filtering through the crack in the door, she could see clearly. It was a thick, square object, tightly wrapped in several layers of oilcloth. The oilcloth was blackened and stiffened, but it was well-protected. She quickly untied the binding ropes and lifted the oilcloth.
Inside was a thin booklet. The paper was rough, yellowed, and the edges were curled and worn. On the cover, a few powerful but somewhat blurred characters were written in ink: "Records of Celadon Glaze Variations".
Found it! The true core of the Su family's secret recipe!
Jiang Chan's fingers trembled slightly, not from excitement, but from the weight pressing on her hands—this was the culmination of generations of the Su family's hard work, and also the root cause of their impending doom!
She quickly flipped through it. The booklet detailed the treatment and proportions of a special mineral in the glaze, as well as the delicate control of several key temperature points during firing. It was precisely these minute differences that determined whether the celadon glaze could produce that mysterious and unpredictable kiln-transformation color. No wonder Zhao Kui was so obsessed!
She clutched the booklet tightly, the cold pages digging into her palm. Only one thought occupied her mind: she absolutely could not let Zhao Kui get it! Otherwise, her original father's death would have been in vain!
She carefully wrapped the booklet again in the oilcloth and quickly tucked it into her body. Then, she swiftly covered the pit with the wooden board, smoothed out the loose soil, and sealed it back up. Finally, she put the empty earthenware jar back in its original place.
After doing all this, she returned to the cold earthen bed and wrapped herself tightly in the tattered thin quilt. The little booklet in her arms felt like a branding iron, burning her chest. She couldn't sleep; her eyes shone brightly in the darkness as she rapidly considered her options.
The next morning, the heavy iron chains rattled. The courtyard gate opened, and Zhao Kui's greasy, fat face appeared in the doorway, followed by the thug from yesterday and a burly man in a craftsman's short jacket with a menacing face. The man had a gloomy look in his eyes and was carrying an old wooden toolbox.
"Little girl, did you sleep well?" Zhao Kui strolled in with a forced smile, his gaze sweeping over Jiang Chan's face and the room like a searchlight.
Jiang Chan huddled in the corner of the earthen bed, hugging her knees, burying her head low, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if she was still afraid.
"Tsk, scared?" Zhao Kui walked to the edge of the kang and looked down at her. "Don't be afraid. As long as you behave, I, the head manager, am kind-hearted and will not treat you unfairly."
He paused, then forced an even more "amiable" smile onto his fat face: "Your father left in such a hurry yesterday that he didn't explain the secret recipe clearly. Think carefully, did he say anything to you? Even just a little bit! Like... before firing the kiln, is there anything special that needs to be added to the glaze? Hmm? Think carefully!"
Jiang Chan's body trembled even more violently. Her eyes, buried in her knees, were icy cold. This was exactly what she had been waiting for! The opportunity to throw out the bait!
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