Chapter 14: Where's My Cola?

The scorching sun blazed like fire, and the autumn cicadas lay lazily on the elm tree, emitting feeble moans. The ceiling fan buzzed softly, turning steadily, as the scent of scorched asphalt mingled with chemical fumes, swirling in the heat waves.

Lin Sicheng’s eyes were dull and lifeless as he slumped against the back of his chair in a daze.

Suddenly, something cold touched his arm, making him shiver. Instinctively, he squeezed it—a cold bottle of carbonated water, bubbles fizzing audibly inside.

“Didn’t you buy one this morning?” he asked.

“No worries, just think of it as supporting a good cause!” Xiao Yuzhu sat beside him, having changed from a skirt into shorts, revealing two long, fair legs.

Her face glowed softly under the light, a faint sweat beaded on her nose, and her eyes narrowed slightly as her long eyelashes fluttered: “Did the abbess scold you badly?”

“No, just a couple of words,” he replied.

Impossible. With the abbess’s personality and style, just a few words? But thinking back to this morning, it seemed the abbess wasn’t too angry; she even called him to the office.

“So why the long face?”

Lin Sicheng remained silent.

He couldn’t exactly say, “I might have just found myself a stepmother.”

He sighed. “Too much money, don’t know how to spend it.”

“Tch, there are plenty of charities, why worry about that?”

“Donating to charities? I’d rather donate to you!”

“Well then, you owe me lunch this afternoon!”

“What’s the big deal? Where to?”

“Xinyuan Restaurant—the school cafeteria.”

“Pathetic, you won’t even get four dishes there,” Xiao Yuzhu teased, kicking him lightly.

Just then, the girl who sat in front of them passed by and raised an eyebrow. The Lin Sicheng she knew was always unapproachable, but now he seemed so cheerful.

After some thought, she still chose to sit in the row ahead of them.

A few minutes later, several boys carrying boxes entered the classroom, with Li Zhen following behind.

“He Wan, Su Xiaotong, Zhang Jianfeng, Ren Zhigang... Come up to distribute materials!”

Some students stood, including the girl in the front row.

She moved slowly, her footsteps measured, a hint of mockery in her eyes.

“Ah Zhu, why are you sitting with Lin Sicheng?”

“Why not?”

“He’s so arrogant, and his reputation’s bad!”

“Doesn’t matter, money’s what counts!”

“Huh?”

He Wan froze, stunned for a long moment.

Xiao Yuzhu curled her lips and strode to the podium, dismissing her with a wave: Worry about your own business!

With a clatter, several materials were handed out to each student: an ancient-style broken porcelain bowl, a rubber bowl, and a sculpting knife.

Also included were plaster powder, talcum powder, mold release agent, clay, and wax sheets.

Lin Sicheng immediately understood: today’s practical class boiled down to one thing—repairing broken pieces.

Xiao Yuzhu received a porcelain bowl. When it came to Lin Sicheng, she rummaged at the bottom of the box and pulled out one she had prepared earlier, placing it before him.

The bowl was mostly intact, with only two tiny chips about the size of grains of rice. Looking at the others, their bowls were more damaged, some missing half.

The boy carrying the box widened his eyes, while He Wan, distributing clay behind him, twisted her mouth.

Playing favorites was one thing, but this was blatant.

Xiao Yuzhu ignored them and waved her hand, “Shall we go?”

The two followed reluctantly.

Soon after, she ran back and tossed him a white lab coat, putting one on herself.

Tall and long-legged, she seemed almost as if she wore nothing below.

Once seated, she nudged Lin Sicheng’s arm, “You owe me three meals now!”

A few meals didn’t matter—even ten was fine, but she wanted it clear.

“Where did three come from?”

Xiao Yuzhu counted on her pale fingers, “First, you said you’d donate to me—that’s one meal. I picked the best bowl for you—that’s two. You can’t fix it yourself, so I helped you—that’s three.”

Lin Sicheng glanced at the two small chips on the bowl’s edge: no wonder it looked so intact.

True, patching was simple, but mixing clay and shaping took time.

He didn’t hesitate to put on the lab coat and pulled out the unfinished sketches from the morning.

Xiao Yuzhu donned gloves and began mixing porcelain clay.

Li Zhen patrolled the classroom, offering guidance. Passing by twice, she saw the earnest Xiao Yuzhu at work and the distracted Lin Sicheng.

The third time she came over, Xiao Yuzhu had finished repairing Lin Sicheng’s broken piece and was shaping her own bowl.

The previous sketch was complete; Lin Sicheng was drafting a new one.

Out of habit, Li Zhen glanced at it. Just as she was about to leave, something made her turn back.

Why was Lin Sicheng’s drawing so strange?

First, the pot’s shape: the body rose straight up without curve. If you covered the spout and handle, it resembled a cricket jar or a tiny clay vat.

Second, the decoration: the body was plain, but the lid and base were patterned—exactly the reverse of traditional porcelain pots.

She noticed four-symbol patterns and seal script inscriptions of “Infinity” and “Perpetual Happiness,” and thought: Is this a Han dynasty tile pot?

But that was secondary. The key was Lin Sicheng’s technique—she had never seen anything like it.

At first glance, it looked like a sketch, but the shading was subtle; oddly, it had a strong three-dimensional feel.

It seemed as though many layers were drawn, one rubbed away to reveal another beneath.

Just as she was studying intently, the classroom suddenly quieted; Li Zhen nodded toward the long desk: “Professor Shang is here!”

“Oh,” Lin Sicheng hurriedly put away his draft paper but had no time to hide it, so he left it in the corner.

Shang Yan entered casually, giving the room a slow once-over.

When she reached Lin Sicheng’s spot, he was pretending to fix the broken model.

“This bowl needs fixing?” Shang Yan frowned. “Li Zhen, give him a new one!”

Lin Sicheng was stunned.

Just when he was silently cursing his luck, Shang Yan squinted and took the draft paper from the corner, examining it carefully.

Li Zhen’s experience was limited; she only knew Lin Sicheng’s drawing depicted a Han dynasty tile pot. But Shang Yan could tell from just these sketches:

The three pots in the drawing were redesigned compositions based on existing fragments, their shapes, curves, and patterns.

To put it simply, they were assembled using authentic Han dynasty tiles, not modern craft replicas mimicking the Han tile style.

Strictly speaking, these pots belonged to the realm of antiques.

But that was secondary. The crucial point was the overall design: at first sight, the lines were a mix of curves and straights; the decorations blended beasts with flowers, flowers with characters, some in seal script and others in clerical script, varying in size.

It resembled a beggar’s patched coat, with four patches on the left and five scars on the right, giving a chaotic, pieced-together oddity.

Yet on closer inspection, it felt balanced—spacious yet dense, irregular yet harmonious.

A flicker of recognition lit Shang Yan’s eyes: Banqiao style?

This style might not be unprecedented, but to manifest the essence and aesthetic charm of calligraphy on a porcelain pot was unheard of.

She looked up at Lin Sicheng, noticing the pencil and compass in his lab coat pocket.

This was a talent.

“Did you design this?”

Lin Sicheng denied abruptly, “I learned from my grandfather.”

Shang Yan was skeptical. Before retiring, his grandfather led the ceramics research group; having worked with him for seven or eight years, she could recognize every style.

But she didn’t expose him, just smiled and put down the draft.

After she turned away, Lin Sicheng exhaled and slipped the paper into his pocket.

Xiao Yuzhu stared at him, her eyes darting about: “So you can design porcelain pots?”

“Didn’t I say I’m learning?”

“But I think Professor Shang looked pretty shocked.”

“Of course she was shocked—never seen such an ugly pot!”

True enough.

Anyway, Xiao Yuzhu thought Lin Sicheng’s pot was not only ugly but clumsy.

She glanced at her watch. “One more class left. Remember to call Senior Sister Li!”

Lin Sicheng nodded. “Okay!”

He was planning to ask Li Zhen to help inquire if the school had any spare rental rooms.

A few minutes before the bell, the class advisor arrived on time.

He announced that on Friday, the institute would hold a public course on bronze restoration, which counted for credit. The entire class must attend.

After the advisor left, Lin Sicheng followed quickly out of the classroom.

It was too hot—time to buy an ice cream.

Just as he left, He Wan turned around, smiling slyly.

“Are you trying to pursue him?”

Xiao Yuzhu was stunned. “What?”

“Lin Sicheng? With his grandfather’s connections, you just need one word to become anyone’s graduate student. Then stay at the school to teach—the rest of your life is set. Tsk, didn’t expect you, Ah Zhu, to be so scheming.”

“Heh,” Xiao Yuzhu chuckled, shaking Lin Sicheng’s cola gently. “I didn’t hear that clearly—come closer and say it again!”

“Phoenix girl!”

“Pfft.”

Ten minutes later, Lin Sicheng returned with ice cream in hand, calling out: “Where’s my cola?”