To be able to bring back such a fine piece to the county, it would surely delight the magistrate. At this moment, Andrew Brooks had already forgotten his original “mission” to “deal with” Ethan Clark. His face lit up with excitement as he strode toward Ethan Clark, beaming, and said, “Scholar Lin, is this your work?”

　　“Yes, it’s a family craft, nothing worthy of the grand stage. I hope I haven’t made a fool of myself before you, Deputy Magistrate,” Ethan Clark replied with a bow and a smile.

　　“It is truly a masterpiece, a work of divine craftsmanship—astonishing! Well then, Scholar Lin, I shall take this pair of vases back to the county and present them to the magistrate. I’m sure he will reward you handsomely. Farewell.” Andrew Brooks ordered the yamen runners to carefully load the pair of three-foot painted vases onto the carriage they had brought, and then left in grand fashion.

　　Foster Father and Son glared angrily at Ethan Clark and left together, disgruntled.

　　Watching their receding figures and listening to the chorus of praise from the crowd, Ethan Clark let out a cold laugh in his heart. These three-foot painted vases might be unimaginably difficult for craftsmen of this era, but for him, they were child’s play. As long as the clay mixture was properly prepared, the glaze would not crack. Shaping the vessel and painting the designs on it were precisely his strengths.

　　Of course, the main issue was that in the early Ming Dynasty, craftsmen had not yet realized the key problem: the root cause of glaze cracking in large vessels lay in the composition of the clay, not in manual technique. Little did they know, for firing large porcelain pieces, the clay’s toughness had to be increased. Clay lacking in toughness might suffice for small wares, but would easily crack under high temperatures when used for large items. This was exactly why large porcelain artworks did not appear on a large scale until the mid-Qing Dynasty.

Volume One: The World in a Pot, Chapter 13: Sleepless with Two Pillows

　　The crowd gradually dispersed, and the news that the wastrel Ethan Clark had fired a top-quality three-foot painted vase quickly spread throughout the area around Yanshen Town as people left.

　　Although it was already near dusk, the blazing sunlight slanted down, there was not a breath of wind, and the weather remained unbearably hot. Ethan Clark let out a long sigh, glanced back at Old Morgan and the other craftsmen, and smiled slightly. “Alright, the official’s task is done. You’re all tired—let’s take the rest of the day off. Old Morgan, come to my residence early tomorrow morning, I have something to discuss with you.”

　　Old Morgan bowed respectfully. “Old Morgan understands.”

　　Old Clark shuffled over, his face still showing excitement, and a cloudy tear clung to the crow’s feet at the corner of his eye. “Young master, it’s getting late, time to return home for dinner. Henry Clark, hurry back and tell the cook to make a few extra dishes to celebrate for the young master.”

　　“Alright!” Henry Clark replied cheerfully and ran off.

　　“Heh, good, let’s go home.” Ethan Clark smiled faintly, feeling relieved, and started walking out of the kiln.

　　“Husband!” Emily Lane hurried over, tilting up her beautiful face, a blush blooming on her fair, delicate cheeks. She reached out as if to grab Ethan Clark’s sleeve, but let her hand fall, and said softly, “Let me walk with you, husband.”

　　Ethan Clark was slightly taken aback, his complicated gaze sweeping over Emily Lane’s delicate, fragile figure. He shook his head. “You’d better ride in the sedan chair—” Seeing the flash of disappointment and sorrow on Emily Lane’s face, his heart trembled and he felt a pang of guilt. He added, “I’ll walk beside the chair and accompany you home.”

　　Emily Lane was overjoyed, her blush deepening as she nodded and entered the sedan chair. Ethan Clark walked alongside, chatting casually with Emily Lane in the chair as they made their way back to the residence.

　　Dinner was sumptuous, with both fish and meat, and even a pot of wine. Ethan Clark drank a few cups, but found the taste bland and somewhat bitter. Compared to modern drinks, Ming Dynasty wine tasted odd. After a few cups, Ethan Clark didn’t want any more. Emily Lane had intended to drink a few more cups with him, but seeing his lack of interest, she lost her enthusiasm as well.

　　Old Clark and the other servants tactfully withdrew early, but the atmosphere in the room remained awkward and heavy. Ethan Clark didn’t know what to say to Emily Lane, so he could only lower his head and eat, occasionally responding when he looked up, his gaze somewhat evasive.

　　Emily Lane’s heart was also in turmoil—partly confused, partly delighted, and partly eager. She had never imagined that she and Ethan Clark would one day share such harmony. In the past, Ethan Clark had been a dissolute drunkard and gambler, but recently he had become refined, composed, and almost transformed. She couldn’t understand why Ethan Clark had changed so drastically, but she knew that the husband before her, silent and reserved, surpassed even the ideal man she had dreamed of as a maiden.

　　All the pent-up grievances and sudden joy surged together. With misty, glistening eyes, Emily Lane quietly picked up a piece of fish and placed it in Ethan Clark’s bowl, saying softly, “Husband, eat a little more.”

　　Ethan Clark had been eating in silence and was already full. Hearing this, he patted his bulging stomach and gave a wry smile. “Alright, I’m done. You eat too.”