Pei Mozhi looked at her, his voice low and tinged with a barely perceptible tension.
"Mmm! The soft center is just right, it's absolutely perfect!"
Zi Xi nodded vigorously, giving her affirmation without reservation, her eyes filled with genuine joy.
Pei Mozhi's lips finally curved into a clear and relaxed smile.
He watched her eat her noodles with contentment, her focused expression as if she were admiring the most precious treasure in the world.
He picked up another peeled soft-boiled egg, but instead of putting it in his own bowl, he used a spoon to crack open the top as well, and then very naturally placed the egg with its golden yolk into her bowl.
"Eat more if you like."
His tone was calm, but his actions carried an undeniable intimacy.
Zi Xi looked at the extra egg in the bowl, then looked up and met his deep eyes.
She lowered her head to hide her slightly flushed cheeks, softly hummed in agreement, and carefully used a spoon to gather the soft-boiled egg, brimming with affection, in front of her.
The afternoon sun was shining brightly on the weekend.
Pei Mozhi drove Zixi to a stylish handmade pottery workshop on the outskirts of the city.
The workshop is nestled among lush greenery, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows that let in plenty of light and air. Soft music and faint sounds of conversation and laughter drift through the air, which is filled with the moist scent of clay, creating a tranquil and relaxing atmosphere.
The teacher who had made the appointment led them to a private workstation by the window.
Two lumps of wet clay, a turntable, and various tools were already prepared on the workbench.
After the teacher briefly demonstrated the basic techniques, he left them room to improvise.
Zi Xi, full of enthusiasm, imitated her teacher by placing a lump of brown clay in the center of the turntable and starting the switch.
The turntable began to spin with a reassuring low-frequency vibration.
Her hands were covered in slippery mud as she carefully gathered the clump of mud, trying to make it obediently rise and take shape.
However, the lump of mud was like a naughty child, swaying left and right in her hands, either tilting to one side or slumping down softly.
She let out a soft sigh, watching as the clay blank, which had just begun to take shape, warped and deformed under her hands, becoming an irregular, flattened sphere.
She stopped the turntable, somewhat frustrated.
Pei Mozhi stood right next to her, his clay figure already beginning to take shape.
His long, strong fingers firmly gripped the bottom of the rotating clay, while his other hand gently but firmly applied pressure from the inside of the clay, with water flowing to lubricate the contact surface between his fingertips and the clay.
Under his control, the unruly soil gradually and meekly emerged.
His movements were precise and composed, exuding an aura of complete control.
Hearing Zi Xi's soft exclamation, he stopped what he was doing, his gaze falling on the crooked, limp mess in her hands, a faint smile flashing across his eyes.
"The center is unstable."
He pointed out the problem succinctly, his voice low and steady.
He picked up the small water bottle next to him and poured some water on the failed lump of clay on her turntable, then very naturally reached out and covered her mud-covered hand with it.
Zi Xi trembled slightly.
The scorching heat of his palms was clearly transmitted through the slippery, cool mud, carrying an irresistible force.
His fingers enveloped hers, guiding her to press down hard on the bottom of the mud lump in the center of the turntable.
With strong knuckles and an unwavering determination, he firmly fixed Zi Xi's fingers in the correct position and angle.
"Hold on here."
"Feel its center of gravity, don't rush."
His deep voice sounded almost against her ear, his breath warm.
His large hands completely enveloped hers, guiding her to re-knead the shapeless lump of clay.
Slippery mud seeped between their tightly pressed fingers, cool and sticky, while the warmth from his palms continued to emanate from them, creating a strange stimulation.
It seems like I'm running a fever all the time.
Zi Xi's cheeks flushed slightly as she tried to concentrate on feeling the direction and power guiding her.
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