Rasa's Dream Realm

"Mm..." Rasa woke, rubbing his bleary eyes.

He then hopped out of bed. At six years old, he was not even a meter tall, yet he was already his master's capable assistant.

His master was a renowned potter in the village, whose pottery was both exquisite and durable.

Today was the day he would complete his apprenticeship. If Rasa made a piece that satisfied his master, he would be allowed to graduate.

Rasa quickly dressed, gathered his materials and tools, and headed to the pottery room.

His master was examining the various porcelain pieces in the room.

When he saw Rasa arrive, his master merely said, "Begin."

Filled with confidence, Rasa moved through mixing clay, kneading it, shaping the body, glazing, and firing in one seamless flow.

His movements were as smooth as drifting clouds and flowing water, incredibly practiced. The scenes flashed by as if fast-forwarded, and several days had already passed.

Rasa took out the finished pottery and handed it to his master.

His master's face was hidden in shadow. After examining it, he took the piece and shoved it off the table.

Bang. The pottery hit the ground with a dull thud.

Rasa clenched his fists. Good! I passed the test!

His master picked up the pottery again, placed it on the second shelf of the rack, and pushed it off.

Bang. Another dull impact. Only one of the pottery's handles had been chipped; it had not shattered.

Before Rasa could make another expression,

his master picked it up once more, placed it on the third shelf, and shoved it down.

Clang. This time, there was no surprise. The pottery smashed into a pile of fragments.

His master said flatly, "A failed product. Make it again."

Rasa was full of grievance. How could pottery possibly be dropped