Mind Set on Work
The scent of wet clay filled the air, earthy and grounding. Li Mei ran her fingers along the cool surface of a half-formed vase, feeling the ridges left behind by her steady hands. The pottery wheel hummed beneath her touch, spinning with a soft whirr as she guided the shape into existence.
This was where she felt most at ease—where her hands could sculpt something tangible, something real. Unlike words or numbers, which sometimes tangled in uncertainty, clay was honest. It yielded only to patience and control.
Outside, the village was waking. The distant clatter of wooden carts and muffled greetings drifted through the open shop door. Someone had just set up a fruit stall nearby—she could smell the fresh citrus mingling with the dampness of the morning air.
Li Mei dipped her hands into a bowl of water, the coolness seeping into her skin. As she worked, her mind wove between the familiar motions of shaping clay and the weight of last night's events. The black sedan. The figure in the alley. The way Chen Wei had subtly positioned himself between her and the unknown presence.
A shiver ran through her, though she kept her hands steady.
She wouldn't let it distract her.
A sharp knock sounded at the wooden frame of the shop's entrance. She tilted her head, instantly recognizing the rhythm.
"Come in, Auntie Yan," she called, brushing her damp hands against her apron.
The door creaked as Auntie Yan stepped inside, her presence carrying the warm scent of dried herbs and fresh-baked bread.
"You've been working too much again," Auntie Yan sighed.
Li Mei offered a small smile. "It helps me think."
"I brought you some tea. The kind you like—the one with the ginseng and a bit of ginger for strength." Auntie Yan said kindly."
Li Mei ran her fingers over the package, feeling the smooth, crinkled paper wrapping. "Thank you, Auntie Yan. I was just thinking I should stop by your stall."
"Nonsense." The older woman waved a dismissive hand—Li Mei couldn't see it, but she could hear the gesture in the rustle of her sleeve. "You always have too much on your plate. Even the busiest minds need rest."
Auntie Yan lingered, the quiet sounds of the village filtering between them. The older woman had always been perceptive, knowing when something weighed on Li Mei's mind without needing to ask.
"You don't have to carry everything alone, you know," she said gently.
Li Mei exhaled, her grip tightening on the tea package.
She knew Auntie Yan meant more than just the burden of her work.
"I'll be fine," she murmured.
The older woman didn't press further. Instead, she gave a small hum of understanding before stepping back toward the door. "Just promise me you'll rest."
"I will," Li Mei said—though they both knew it was only half true.
The door creaked shut, leaving her alone with the unfinished vase on the wheel.
The steady rhythm of work had always been her refuge. Numbers were reliable, plans were structured. But last night had been neither predictable nor structured. And she had the creeping feeling that whatever had stirred in the shadows of Xiaolong was only beginning to surface.
Still, she set the thoughts aside.
One more report, she told herself. Just one more, and then she'd take a break.
For now, work was the one thing she could control.
.