Old Buck's brows knotted.
"I'm no master craftsman."
"Who asked you to be one?" Su Li tossed a piece of scrap iron onto the anvil. "Just teach them how to hammer a bar straight without smashing their own hands. Isn't that how you learned back then?"
Old Buck snorted. He lowered his head to look at the scrap iron on the anvil and fell silent for a few seconds.
"When taking apprentices, look at their hands first." He spread both hands before Su Li, his palms covered in calluses and scars. "Anyone without calluses on their hands can't make it in this trade."
Su Li nodded. "Fine. You make the rules."
Footsteps came from outside. Martha entered carrying a large iron kettle, white steam rising from its spout.
Three young men thin as poles followed behind her, clutching cloth bundles and tool bags, their expressions stiff with restraint.
"These kids came first thing this morning and have been waiting an hour." Martha set the kettle on a low table in the corner and called to the three young men, "Have a bowl of hot soup first to warm yourselves up. After standing so long, your feet must be freezing."
The three young men nodded awkwardly, squatted beside the low table, and held their bowls as they drank.
Old Buck walked over and looked down at their hands.
The first had long, slender fingers without any calluses.
The second had a thin layer of calluses on his palms and an old wound in the web between thumb and forefinger.
The third had short, thick fingers, and his knuckles were covered in tiny burn scars.
Old Buck paused before the third one.
"Worked with iron before?"
The young man nodded nervously. "Back in my hometown... I helped repair plowshares."
Old Buck said