Chapter 9 — Pottery Kiln Fire Keeper

On the sixth day, the batch reached the final and most delicate stage — the "fire suppression" stage to create a special glaze effect. This is when Van Khe had to decide, based on experience and intuition passed down from his grandfather, the exact moment to gradually reduce the amount of oxygen supplied to the furnace, creating a reducing environment — a technique that causes the oxygen-hungry fire to draw oxygen from the metal compounds in the enamel itself, changing color in magical ways that modern gas furnaces with automatic control systems can never reproduce.

— This is the most important moment, — Van Khe explained to Khang as she slowly closed the vents, so that thick black smoke began to roll up from the mouth of the furnace instead of the clear smoke like before. — This reducing environment will cause iron enamel to change from reddish brown to turquoise, copper enamel from green to purple red. But you have to time it right. If you do it too early, the yeast won't be fully cooked. If you do it too late, you'll miss the moment of transformation.

Khang observed attentively, took notes continuously in the notebook, and occasionally asked sharp questions, showing that he had quickly absorbed practical knowledge that no school in Japan could fully teach him.

— In Kyoto, I read about this technique in books, called "reduction firing," — he said, — but reading the theory is a far cry from seeing it with your own eyes. Looking at the black smoke rolling up like that, I thought something was wrong, but it turned out that was the miracle happening inside.

— That's right, — Van Khe smiled, — many people who don't understand the profession think the furnace is broken, but this is the most beautiful moment. Your grandfather still calls this stage "reverse breathing" — like a person holding his breath to muster all his strength for the decisive moment.

In the afternoon, when black smoke rolled thickly across the sky behind the bamboo groves, Khang's phone rang continuously. He looked at the screen, his face slightly tense, then stepped away to answer the phone. Van Khe could not clearly hear the content of the call, but through the harsh voice echoing and Khang's expression when he returned, she guessed that it was not a pleasant conversation.

— Your father? — she asked when Khang returned, his eyes somewhat tired.

— Yes, — Khang sighed, sitting down next to the firewood. — He knew about my grandfather coming here to visit the furnace. I don't know why the news spread so quickly, perhaps the nephew who drove my grandfather yesterday told me. My father was very angry, saying I was "betraying my family" and "siding with the enemy". He also threatened to speed up the process of buying land without waiting for negotiations.

Van Khe felt a surge of worry in her heart, not only because of the future of Vong Nguyet furnace, but also because the relationship between Khang and his father was becoming strained because of her.

— Do you regret coming here to help me? — she asked, her voice low.

Khang shook his head immediately, his eyes firmly looking straight at her.

— Never, — he replied firmly. — I know my father is acting out of old, unresolved hurt, but that doesn't mean I have to continue living his life the way he does. I have found here, in this Vong Nguyet kiln, something I have been searching for six years away from home — a real reason for me to believe in pottery, to believe in the value of patience, of craft. I won't give it up just because my father is angry.

Those words made Van Khe's heart stir strongly. She looked at Khang, the firelight from the stove shining on his face, and in that moment, she realized more clearly than ever that her feelings for him had gone beyond the boundaries of initial curiosity or appreciation.

— Thank you, — she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. — I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to have a companion like you in this kiln.

Khang looked at her, the distance between the two seemed to naturally narrow. The flickering firelight reflected in both of their eyes, the sound of firewood crackling mixed with the heartbeat that was beating faster than usual. He raised his hand and gently brushed away a strand of hair that fell from her forehead blown by the night wind.

— Van Khe, — he called her name, his voice was deep and warm, different from usual, — I don't know if this is the right time to say this, while everything is still so chaotic, but I feel that if I don't say it, I will regret it forever. From the first night watching the fire with you, I...

Khac Ben's loud call from the furnace interrupted Khang's unfinished sentence, signaling that it was time to completely close the main air vent to begin the final incubation stage. They both quickly stood up and ran towards the stove, leaving that incomplete sentence hanging in the night air, like a promise that a more suitable moment would come.

Khac Ben, standing next to the main air vent with a terracotta shield in hand, accidentally caught the moment two people rushed over, their faces still red, their eyes still lingering on something unsaid. He remained silent without asking anything, just quietly handed the shield to Van Khe, then turned away to hide a fleeting moment of contemplation on his tanned face.

For a long time, Khac Ben has secretly kept in his heart a special feeling for his childhood friend, although he has never dared to say it out loud, partly because he is inherently secretive, partly because he clearly understands that Van Khe only sees him as a brother, a trusted teammate in the job of keeping the furnace. Seeing the growing bond between her and Khang, he couldn't help but feel a slight feeling of sadness in his heart, but he was also mature enough to understand that feelings cannot be forced, and the happiness of the person he loves is more important than private desires that have never been clearly formed.

— It's done, — he said, trying to keep his voice normal, closing the last air vent. — From now on there's just waiting. It will take another three days for the oven to cool enough to open it.

— Thank you Ben, — Van Khe said, gently patting his shoulder, completely unaware of the thoughts flowing in his close friend's heart. — Without you, I don't know how to manage this batch.

Khac Ben just smiled, a smile mixed with sincere warmth and a bit of quiet acceptance, then turned away to pack up his tools, so that the other two could have more private space next to the dying fire that was gradually dying down with the slow breathing of the newly sealed gourd stove.

*

The last night before the furnace was completely sealed to cool down over the next three days, Van Khe, Khang and Khac Ben sat around a small outdoor fire near the furnace, cooking a simple pot of chicken porridge to nourish themselves after six days of staying awake almost continuously. All three were haggard, their eyes were dark from lack of sleep, but on each person's face was an indescribable joy - the joy of people who had overcome a great challenge together.

— I never thought I could stay up for six consecutive nights like this, — Khac Ben smiled, taking a spoonful of hot porridge. — But looking back, I think it was worth it. No matter what the result of the firing is, at least I tried my best.

— The result will be good, — Van Khe said, her voice full of confidence even though there was still some unavoidable anxiety in her heart. — I feel like this batch has something special. Perhaps because there are new people, a new source of energy in watching the fire.

She glanced at Khang, who was busy sipping porridge but caught her eye in time and smiled softly in response.

— Three days of waiting for the furnace to cool down must be as long as three years, — Khang said, putting down the bowl of porridge, stretching his shoulders, which were tired after six days of almost no rest. — I kept imagining, not knowing what the hundreds of items in there would look like, especially the series of tea pots you tried with cheesy ash glaze.

— I'm also very nervous, — Van Khe admitted, looking far away at the gourd plant that was emitting smoldering heat under the sealed soil. — This is the first time I tried that type of yeast with a higher percentage of ash than my grandfather's old recipe, I don't know if it will be successful or not. But no matter what, I feel satisfied, because this is the first kiln after my grandfather's death that I feel like I am not alone.

Khac Ben, who was neatly arranging some extra firewood next to him, looked up to contribute, his cheerful voice mixed with a bit of teasing to dispel the quiet atmosphere.

— How can you be alone? I'm here with Mr. Khang. If she were alone, the two of us would become hungry ghosts, staying up all night for six nights is not much.

All three burst out laughing, crisp laughter resounding in the quiet night, mixed with the sound of a crackling campfire and the chirping of insects echoing from the banks of the Boi Giang River. That night, under the rare starry sky of this season, three people sat together, tired but warm, waiting for the moment when the furnace was completely sealed - ending an arduous journey but also opening a new chapter full of promise, both professionally and in terms of the budding love between Van Khe and the son of the family who was once her family's sworn enemy.