But not everyone was as stubborn as Old Yao.
For generations, the craftsmen of this town had only known how to make porcelain. They didn't dare produce anything beyond the imperial orders, nor could they sell their wares privately. With the kilns shut down, they had no choice but to seek other livelihoods. At fourteen, Chen Ping'an was also cast out, returning to his dilapidated home in Niping Alley, with nothing but empty walls. Even if he had wanted to squander a fortune, there was nothing to squander.
For a while, he wandered like a lost soul, unable to find work. Living off meager savings, he barely filled his stomach. Recently, he heard that an outsider named Ruan had set up a blacksmith shop in Qilong Alley, looking for seven or eight apprentices. There was no pay, but meals were provided. Chen Ping'an rushed over, hoping for a chance, but the blacksmith barely glanced at him before turning him away.
He didn't understand—wasn't blacksmithing about strength? Why did it matter how someone looked?
Though he appeared frail, Chen Ping'an had surprising strength from years of working the kilns and shaping clay. He had also followed Old Yao through mountains and rivers, learning the characteristics of different soils. He was willing to do any hard or dirty job without complaint. But Old Yao never liked him, always saying he lacked talent—nothing compared to his senior apprentice, Liu Xianyang. It was true—what took Chen Ping'an three years to master, Liu Xianyang had achieved in just six months.
Even if he never got to use the skill again, Chen Ping'an still practiced shaping clay in his mind—imagining a stone slab and a spinning wheel in front of him.
Every fifteen minutes, he would rest his wrists, then start again, repeating until he was utterly exhausted. He had figured out this training method on his own—no one had taught him.
The night was silent. Then, a mocking laugh pierced the air.
Chen Ping'an stopped. As expected, his neighbor was perched on the wall, smirking with disdain.
This neighbor, a boy of the same age, was rumored to be the illegitimate son of a former imperial kiln overseer. When his father left for the capital to avoid scandal, he entrusted the boy to his successor. But now that the town's kiln industry had collapsed, the new overseer had abandoned him as well.
Despite being forsaken, the neighbor, Song Jixin, still lived leisurely, accompanied by a servant girl named Zhi Gui. While others worried about survival, he had never once lacked silver.
The walls in Niping Alley were low, making it easy to see into each other's courtyards. But Song Jixin always preferred to sit on the wall when talking to Chen Ping'an.
Compared to Chen Ping'an's plain name, Song Jixin's sounded much more refined. Even his servant girl had a poetic name.
She stood quietly behind the wall, her large eyes filled with timid curiosity.
At that moment, a voice came from outside the courtyard.
"Is your servant girl for sale?"
Song Jixin blinked and turned toward the voice. A well-dressed boy stood outside the yard, his face unfamiliar. Beside him stood a tall old man, his white face calm and smiling as he observed the three young people.
The old man barely glanced at Chen Ping'an, but his gaze lingered on Song Jixin and Zhi Gui, his smile deepening.
Song Jixin sneered. "Sell her? Of course!"
The boy smiled. "Name your price."
Zhi Gui's eyes widened in shock, like a startled fawn.
Song Jixin rolled his eyes and held up a finger. "Ten thousand taels of silver!"
The boy remained calm. "Alright."
Song Jixin panicked. "I meant ten thousand taels of gold!"
The boy's lips curled. "Just kidding."
Song Jixin's face darkened.
Ignoring him, the boy turned to Chen Ping'an. "Thanks to you, I got that golden carp today. The more I look at it, the more I like it. I wanted to thank you in person, so I had Grandpa Wu bring me here."
He tossed a heavy embroidered pouch to Chen Ping'an. "Consider this a token of gratitude. We're even now."
Before Chen Ping'an could respond, the boy turned and left.
Chen Ping'an frowned.
Earlier that day, he had seen a man carrying a bamboo basket with a lively golden carp inside. It was so vibrant that he couldn't resist asking to buy it. The man initially refused but then demanded thirty coins—far more than Chen Ping'an could afford. Just as he was trying to bargain, the well-dressed boy and the old man had walked by and bought the fish for fifty coins, leaving Chen Ping'an empty-handed.
Song Jixin, still glaring at their departing figures, suddenly turned to Chen Ping'an. "Remember that four-legged creature from New Year's?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. How could he forget?
According to local custom, snakes entering one's house were a good omen. But on the first day of the year, Song Jixin had seen a lizard crawling inside. He grabbed it and threw it out, but it kept coming back, stubbornly returning even after being flung into Chen Ping'an's yard. The next day, it was found curled up under Song Jixin's bed.
Song Jixin hesitated, then swallowed back the words he wanted to say.
He had noticed something strange—the lizard's forehead had started to bulge, as if growing horns.
Instead, he said, "Zhi Gui and I are probably leaving next month."
Chen Ping'an sighed. "Safe travels."
Song Jixin grinned. "I'll be leaving some stuff behind. Don't go sneaking into my house to steal anything."
Chen Ping'an shook his head.
Song Jixin suddenly burst into laughter, pointing at Chen Ping'an. "You're too timid! No wonder people like you stay poor for generations."
Chen Ping'an remained silent.
Back in his room, he lay down on his hard wooden bed.
Closing his eyes, he whispered to himself:
"碎碎平,岁岁安.碎碎平安,岁岁平安..."
("Shattered into peace, year after year. May all broken things bring peace, may peace last through the years…")