As a craftsman who deals with porcelain and glassware all day long, and especially as a young talent renowned at home and abroad for his mastery of inside painting, it was truly astonishing for Ethan Clark to have traveled through time and space to Yan Shen, a major hub of porcelain production in the Ming Dynasty. What’s more, he even possessed a family-inherited porcelain kiln—just thinking about this made Ethan Clark involuntarily excited.

With porcelain craftsmanship knowledge centuries ahead of this era, and especially with his almost supernatural inside painting skills for glassware, at the very least, he would never have to worry about making a living in the future.

Glassware is an ancient material, with its earliest production dating back to before the Han and Tang dynasties. It is hailed as the foremost among China’s five famous wares (gold and silver, jade and emerald, glass, ceramics, and bronze) and one of the seven treasures of Buddhism. By the Ming Dynasty, it had basically been lost, only recorded in legends and supernatural tales—like in Journey to the West, where Sha Monk was banished from the heavens for breaking a glass cup. According to historical records, the revival of glass craftsmanship occurred in the early Qing Dynasty, and it wasn’t until the mid-Qing that large-scale production was possible, with inside painting being invented by craftsmen around the same time. But now it was the early Ming, which meant that both glassware and inside painting were still “completely blank slates”—this presented him with a tremendous opportunity.

Ethan Clark was extremely excited, chuckling to himself, “The history of porcelain and glassware is about to be rewritten!”

“Young master, what did you say?” Old Clark came closer, asking in confusion.

“Nothing, nothing.” Ethan Clark composed himself and smiled lightly. “Old Morgan, right? Don’t worry, take me to the kiln so I can have a look.”

……

In Xiyefang, at the southeast corner of Yan Shen Town, over ninety percent of the town’s folk kilns were clustered. Among the dozens of kilns, the Lin family’s porcelain kiln was the largest, both in terms of production scale and number of workers. It had been run by Ethan Clark’s family since his grandfather’s time, now in its third generation.

The kiln was enclosed by mud-brick walls, and inside, clay bodies, molds, and semi-finished daily-use porcelain were piled everywhere. In the center of the courtyard, several craftsmen were standing around a more than one-meter-tall openwork painted vase, staring at it in a daze.

“The young master is here, hurry and greet him,” Old Morgan called out.

“Young master!” The craftsmen all bowed in greeting. Ethan Clark smiled slightly and waved his hand, “No need to be so formal, everyone, haha.”

The craftsmen looked at each other, their faces showing disbelief. Ethan Clark had always been bossy and never looked at them directly, but today he was so kind and approachable—it was truly strange!

Ethan Clark paid them no further attention, his gaze falling on the now-defective painted vase. With just a glance, he couldn’t help but frown—not only was the shape too stiff, but the body of the vase was not full, the proportions were clearly off, and overall, it lacked any sense of beauty. Moreover, the glaze was dull and cracked, and the painting technique was quite rough.

Could it be that the porcelain-making skills of Ming Dynasty folk kilns were still this primitive? That can’t be right, can it? Ethan Clark sighed, feeling a bit disappointed.

Seeing Ethan Clark’s disappointed expression, Old Morgan said apologetically from the side, “Young master, we usually only make small items like bowls and basins. This is our first time firing such a large piece. The difficulty of shaping and painting openwork is just too great, so…”

“Oh, it’s fine. Let me ask you, Old Morgan, have you figured out the cause of the glaze cracking?” Ethan Clark smiled.

“That’s what we can’t figure out, young master. We’ve followed the recipe passed down from our ancestors for the raw materials, and the firing temperature and timing are all spot on, but for some reason, the glaze always cracks.” Old Morgan scratched his head. “Young master, we really have no solution.”

Ethan Clark stepped forward and gently tapped the body of the vase. The sound was low and muffled. From his experience, the reason for the glaze cracking during firing was most likely that the clay and glaze were repelling each other during the high-temperature fusion and hardening process. He turned and asked, “Old Morgan, bring me some of the clay you use for shaping.”

Old Morgan agreed and instructed a craftsman to bring over a handful of wet clay. Ethan Clark picked up a bit with his finger, rubbed it in his palm, and shook his head. “Old Morgan, this clay is soft but not sticky, too elastic and not tough enough. It won’t do—it needs to be reformulated.”

Old Morgan glanced at Ethan Clark in confusion, thinking, “When did the young master of the Lin family learn all this? He even sounds so knowledgeable.” He didn’t dare voice his doubts, only nodded in agreement.

Under Ethan Clark’s on-site direction, Old Morgan and several craftsmen began to reformulate the clay: 60% porcelain clay, 20% quartz sand, 20% sticky clay, sifted to remove large particles, then pounded with a water mill, washed to remove impurities, and after settling, shaped into long strips of clay. Then, the clay was mixed with water, impurities removed, and kneaded by hand or trampled by foot to squeeze out air and evenly distribute moisture.

With the clay ready, Ethan Clark looked at the large potter’s wheel that Old Morgan and the others had specially made for this three-foot painted openwork vase and sighed—it was just too crude. But there was no helping it; given the reality and limited time, he’d have to make do for now.

Ethan Clark rolled up his sleeves, preparing to throw the clay himself. Old Morgan grew anxious at the sight. “Young master, let us handle this rough work.”