Successful Firing

Chapter Twenty-Four: Successful Firing

The simple pottery kiln stood quietly in the southwestern corner of the Small Courtyard, like a silent and stubborn giant, bearing witness to Chen An's arduous labor over the past half month. The mud coating on its walls had dried halfway, taking on a deep earthy yellow that blended with the surrounding rocks and soil. Only the crude smoke vent at the top and the firewood opening on the side revealed that it was not a natural formation. During this half month, Chen An had not merely piled up stones and mud—he had also poured his hopes, setbacks, and indomitable will into this primitive furnace of flame.

Today would be the crucial day that determined the fate of the pottery kiln and the success or failure of his pottery-making endeavors—its first official firing.

The sky had only just begun to brighten when Chen An got up. Unlike usual, he did not first tend the garden or inspect the Safe Zone. Instead, he went straight to the kiln. He was both nervous and expectant. He had not slept all night, repeatedly going over every step of the firing process and every problem that might arise.

First, he took several well-preserved clay pieces from a shady corner. Aside from the two initial failures that had been discarded, he had made another three or four pieces. This time, he had been exceptionally careful. Drawing on the lessons from his previous failure, he had tried to make their shapes more regular, though they still retained the clumsy quality of handmade work. He had also deliberately made two somewhat larger wide-mouthed jars, hoping to use this opportunity to test how different shapes fared during firing.

He carefully carried the selected clay pieces to the kiln. The kiln door was already open, revealing the dim chamber within and the firebox, which was lined with stones and coated in fire-resistant mud. Following the arrangement he had planned beforehand, he gently placed the clay pieces in their designated positions inside the chamber, trying to ensure even heating and avoid crowding. The large jars went on the lower level, while the small bowls were stacked on the upper level. Once everything was arranged, he carefully checked it all to make sure nothing was leaning or bearing uneven pressure.

Next came lighting the firebox. He spread a layer of dry kindling across its bottom, then piled carefully selected pine branches and dry grass on top. After taking a deep breath, he struck a torch alight and gently extended it into the firebox. The kindling caught fire instantly, sending up a choking cloud of white smoke. He quickly backed away and shut the heavy stone kiln door, leaving only the firewood opening and the smoke vent.

The real test had begun—controlling the fire and raising the temperature.

Chen An stood guard in front of the kiln like a devout priest, closely watching the changes in the flames. Through the firewood opening, he continually fed in dry hardwood logs. The flames gradually changed from their initial orange-yellow to an increasingly white and blazing color. Heat radiated through the thick kiln walls, and the surface of the kiln even began to grow faintly hot. He knew this was only the beginning.

Firing pottery, especially to achieve vitrification, required sustained high temperatures and sufficient time. He could not simply burn the fire fiercely like a campfire. Instead, he needed to patiently control the heat, allowing the temperature to rise steadily and maintaining it at a sufficiently high level for long enough.

He began experimenting with controlling the ventilation. By adjusting how deeply a bamboo tube was inserted into the smoke vent, he controlled the airflow inside the kiln. With too little air, combustion would be incomplete, the temperature would fail to rise, and thick smoke and harmful gases would easily form. With too much air, the flames would move too quickly, making the temperature difficult to maintain, while the clay pieces could crack from sudden changes between hot and cold.

It was an extremely demanding process that tested patience and experience. Chen An spent most of his time beside the kiln, sometimes adding firewood, sometimes adjusting the damper, and sometimes peering through the small viewing hole left in the kiln door—a hole sealed with a smooth, thin stone slab—to observe the firelight and the changes in the clay pieces inside. Time passed slowly amid the agonizing wait. Sweat soaked his hair and back, while his eyes grew dry and stinging from staring at the flames and smoke for so long.

He did not know exactly how long he had been firing them. It felt as though a century had passed. Finally, through the viewing hole, he saw that the inside of the kiln chamber had become a fiercely burning space of flames and incandescent gases. The firewood he added turned almost instantly to ash. He estimated that the temperature inside the kiln had now approached, or even reached, the critical point required for firing pottery—around eight hundred degrees or higher.

He began reducing the frequency with which he added firewood, focusing more on maintaining a steady fire and temperature. He knew that after reaching the peak temperature, the kiln still needed to retain the heat for a while, allowing the minerals inside the clay pieces to undergo sufficient chemical reactions and complete the vitrification process.

After an unknown length of time, he judged that the moment had come. He stopped adding new firewood and began gradually reducing the airflow. He even temporarily blocked part of the smoke vent, creating a relatively enclosed, oxygen-poor environment inside the kiln to help the clay pieces complete their final transformation and cool slowly. This cooling process was equally crucial; rapid cooling would create enormous internal stress and cause the pottery to crack.

He closed the firewood opening, leaving only a narrow slit for ventilation. Chen An stepped back several paces and quietly watched the kiln, which no longer spewed flames. It was like a gigantic beast that had completed its mission, lying silently where it was. Its surface no longer radiated scorching waves of heat, but it still retained the warmth of the sun absorbed during the day and the heat accumulated within.

The wait that followed was for cooling. He did not dare open the kiln recklessly and could only rely on time and patience. He stood guard beside it for most of the day, until the kiln walls had cooled to a temperature he could bear when touched.

At last, he decided that it was time to open the kiln.

He walked to the kiln door, gripped the cold stone door panel tightly with both hands, took a deep breath, and used all his strength to slowly pull the heavy door inward.

A wave of heat mixed with the scents of ashes and hot earth rushed into his face! Chen An instinctively narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward and looked inside—

Inside the kiln chamber, his several clay pieces lay quietly, like spirits reborn through fire.

They were no longer the drab, limp lumps of clay they had been before. Under the effects of the high temperature, they had taken on a deep, hard ochre color, or perhaps another shade depending on the temperature and atmosphere. Their surfaces were much smoother. Though they still retained traces of being handmade, their fragile, easily shattered quality had vanished. They stood there quietly, solid and stable, emanating the weighty presence of true "vessels."

Success!

An indescribable ecstasy and tremendous sense of accomplishment erupted like a volcano, instantly overwhelming all the tension and exhaustion in Chen An's heart! He nearly cheered aloud, but in the end, he merely clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms.

He cautiously reached inside and carried the several scalding pottery pieces out one by one, placing them on the ground he had prepared in advance and covered with thick straw. They were scorching to the touch, yet they also carried a reassuring sense of solidity.

He picked up the largest wide-mouthed jar. Its shape was still far from perfect and even somewhat crooked, but the body was intact and free of cracks. When tapped, it produced a clear and solid thunk, thunk! He turned it upside down. The bottom was flat, and it stood firmly on the ground.

Then he picked up a small bowl. The rim was still not smooth enough, but its overall shape was regular. It felt heavy and substantial in his hands. This was no longer a clay figurine that could only be looked at and would shatter at the slightest touch. This was a true vessel—one that could hold water, store food, and be placed on the dining table!

Tears blurred Chen An's eyes without warning. The days and nights of the past half month—digging clay, kneading earth, shaping, building the kiln, controlling the fire, waiting... All the hardship and effort had transformed into the most tangible reward at this moment. This was not some great work of art. It was merely the mastery of the most basic survival skill. Yet what it represented was immeasurably significant.

It meant that he was no longer merely a scavenger dependent on natural containers. He had begun using the resources around him to create his own tools for survival. It marked a solid first step toward surviving independently—and even toward rebuilding civilization.

He sat on the ground, placing the several rough yet brand-new pottery vessels beside him and quietly looking at them. The afterglow of the setting sun streamed through the gaps in the courtyard wall, coating the vessels, which carried the fragrance of earth and the marks of flame, in a layer of warm gold.

With pottery, he could boil water more conveniently and reduce the risk of illness; store food more hygienically and prevent spoilage; cook more efficiently, and perhaps even try making more complicated dishes. Life would become more orderly and comfortable as a result.

Chen An stood up and wiped the tears and dust from his face with his sleeve. He looked at the distant valley and the Small Courtyard nearby, his heart filled with unprecedented strength and hope. The success of the pottery kiln was only the beginning. More challenges awaited him in the future, but at this moment, he believed more strongly than ever that with his own wisdom and hands, he could create a world of his own on this Primordial Land.

(End of Chapter Twenty-Four)