Chapter 5 — Pottery Kiln Fire Keeper

A week after her father was admitted to the hospital, Van Khe brought him home in a more stable health condition, although the doctor kept repeating that he needed to absolutely avoid stress and exertion. Mr. Vong lay resting on a hammock under the porch, looking out at the factory yard where Van Khe and Khac Ben were busy preparing for the upcoming batch of kilns. His eyes were both worried and somewhat like he was gradually letting go, letting his daughter decide her own path.

Preparing for a large batch at the Vong Nguyet kiln is a process that requires meticulousness down to the smallest detail. First is the product shaping stage - Van Khe spent nearly a month sitting at the wheel, creating hundreds of ceramic items of all kinds: from everyday bowls and plates, to elaborate large vases and pots for collectors, and especially a series of small tea pots in the classic style that she has long cherished, intending to experiment with the precious ash glaze obtained from Mrs. Tu's garden.

After shaping, the products must be dried naturally in the shade for many days, avoiding direct sunlight, which causes the soil to shrink unevenly, leading to cracking. Van Khe places each item on a wooden shelf in a well-ventilated workshop, regularly rotating it to ensure uniform dryness from all sides. This is a step that requires extreme patience, because with just one small mistake, weeks of effort can go up in smoke.

- Ms. Khe, I counted, there are a total of three hundred and twenty dishes, enough to fill the third to seventh oven compartments, - Khac Ben reported, carefully flipping through the notebook.

— Still missing, — Van Khe shook his head, looking around the workshop thoughtfully. — I need to fill all nine chambers of the stove to take full advantage of the heat, otherwise I will waste firewood. I plan to make a series of small statues, shaped like zodiac animals, and sell them tourists easily.

While the two discussed, the familiar sound of Mr. Hua Dinh Toai's motorbike rang out outside the gate. He walked in, followed by a young woman, dressed simply but with an intellectual look, holding a thick briefcase in her hand.

- Van Khe, let me introduce, this is Ms. Uong Bich Thuy, a researcher at the folk culture institute in the province, - Mr. Toai said, his voice cheerful. — I contacted her. She was very interested in learning about her village's wood-fired pottery profession and wanted to go down to survey it.

Ms. Thuy shook Van Khe's hand with a friendly smile.

— Hello Van Khe, I've heard Uncle Toai talk a lot about Vong Nguyet furnace. In fact, there is very little left of traditional wood-fired ceramics like this multi-chamber gourd kiln in the North, most of which have been replaced by gas or electric kilns for economic reasons. If your furnace still operates according to traditional techniques, this will be an extremely valuable document.

Van Khe took Ms. Thuy to visit the entire factory, from the riverside clay yard, the soil refining area, the row of turntables, to the Vong Nguyet gourd plant itself. Ms. Thuy continuously took notes, photographed every detail, occasionally stopping to ask detailed questions about techniques, family history, and oral stories in the village related to pottery.

— Did you know, — Ms. Thuy said as they stood in front of the largest furnace door, — this type of gourd furnace with many chambers in a row, the Japanese call it "noborigama", while in Vietnam we call it simply dragon furnace or gourd furnace, appearing since the Ly and Tran dynasties. The sloping structure helps fire and heat naturally move from the lower compartment to the upper compartment, saving fuel while still reaching extremely high temperatures, sometimes up to one thousand three hundred degrees. It is a sophisticated technical project that our ancestors have compiled through hundreds of years of experience.

Van Khe listened passionately. Even though these were things she had known since childhood through her grandfather's words, when an expert confirmed them with academic knowledge, she felt much more proud, as if the value of the Vong Nguyet furnace had just been confirmed once again.

— If you agree, — Ms. Thuy continued, — I want to film the entire process of your upcoming batch, from the moment you light the fire to the moment you open the kiln. This will be the core document for the application for recognition of intangible cultural heritage at the provincial level, and can even advance to the national level if everything goes well. But I must say first, this application review process usually takes many years, it is not an overnight thing.

— Many years are fine, — Van Khe replied without hesitation. — As long as there is hope, I will still try.

*

In the afternoon, after seeing off Mr. Toai and Ms. Thuy, Van Khe sat alone on the banks of the Boi Giang River, where she often went when she needed to think clearly. The river flows lazily, carrying alluvium and the memories of countless generations of pottery makers before her. She thought about her father, about his fragile health, about Tan Tho's proposal paper still lying in the drawer, about the family secret she was gradually revealing, and about the upcoming big batch - on which she bet almost the entire future of the Vong Nguyet kiln.

The sound of footsteps on gravel made her turn around. Chiem Duy Khang was standing there, holding a sketchbook, looking like he had just taken a walk along the river.

— Sorry, I didn't mean to bother, — he said, about to turn away.

— It's okay, — Van Khe replied, her voice less harsh than the last time we met. After what she had just learned about the deep connection between the two families, she looked at Khang with a more complex look — both wary, curious, and somewhat sympathetic, because she understood that he was also carrying the burden of the past, even though he probably didn't know it all yet.

Khang sat down at a reasonable distance from her, looking out at the river.

— I'm sketching the designs of some traditional ceramics, combined with the Japanese minimalist lines I learned, — he said, opening the notebook to show her. The drawings in it are truly impressive - still retaining the rustic soul of Vietnamese wood-based ceramics, but the lines are streamlined and modern, able to easily conquer the tastes of young people and the international market.

— It's beautiful, — Van Khe admitted, even though she was still a little hesitant. — But what do you intend to use these drawings for? For your father's company?

Khang shook his head, his eyes became serious.

- Are not. My father and I... we had huge disagreements about direction. He only cares about output, profits, and expanding market share at all costs, including eliminating the last wood stoves in the village. As for me, after six years of studying in Japan, I realized that the real value lies in the combination - preserving the soul of traditional crafts, but introducing a new aesthetic mindset so that it can live in this era, rather than being completely replaced.

— So what are you going to do? Open your own workshop?

— I'm considering it, — Khang replied, his voice a bit hesitant. — But first, I want to learn thoroughly about traditional wood burning techniques, something that books or schools cannot teach. Hey Van Khe, I know this request may be a bit sudden, but... can I ask for your permission to help in your upcoming kiln? I am willing to do anything, from chopping wood to watching the fire all night, without asking for any compensation. I just want to really learn.

That suggestion surprised Van Khe. A part of her was still wary — after all, Khang was the son of the person who was pressuring her family to sell the land, and maybe this was just a trick to conduct technical reconnaissance, preparing for a new round of competition from Tan Tho. But another part of her, the part that read her grandfather's passionate diary entries about his friendship with Mr. Truong, the part that saw the sincerity in Khang's eyes when he talked about pottery, wanted to give him a chance.

— I need to think, — she replied, not wanting to make a hasty decision. — This is not a joke, one batch is fired for seven days and seven nights, not everyone can withstand the intensity of that work.

— I understand, — Khang nodded. — Just think carefully. But I want you to know, I didn't come here for my father, I came for myself, for something I searched for six years away from home without realizing it, until I stood in front of your house's stove.

That sentence, although brief, contained a weight that made Van Khe unable to help but be disturbed. She looked at Khang, then looked out at the river flowing quietly under the sunset, dyeing the entire sky red, and in her heart, a decision began to form, although she still did not dare to admit it out loud.

That night, when returning home, Van Khe sat next to her father and recounted Khang's proposal. Mr. Vong was silent for a long time, his distant eyes as if searching for long-buried memories.

— It's up to you to decide, — he said at last. — But if you accept, you must be careful, Khe. That family's blood, no matter what, carries with it a heavy past that I cannot predict where it will lead you.

Van Khe nodded, but in her heart, she already had her own answer. Tomorrow, she will inform Khang: the big firing of the Vong Nguyet kiln will start next week, and if he is really serious, he can come from the first day, ready to spend seven days and seven nights without rest next to the fire that the ancestors of the two families once kindled together, and then extinguished together because of a tragedy that has never been resolved.