On the left, three lines converged at the same node, while on the right, only one line bore the load. After prolonged use, the left-side node had overloaded and burned through.
It was not a problem with the pot's quality. The rune design was skewed.
Su Li withdrew his palm from the bottom of the pot and rose to look at the mountain of pots.
Thirty pots. More than one probably had the same symptoms.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Su Li crouched beside the pile and turned the first three pots upside down.
The burn-through points on the three pots differed, but the centers of their scorch marks were in the same position. All of them lay on the node where the rune lines converged most densely.
The cheaply mass-produced heating runes had been designed with an uneven load distribution. Dense on the left, sparse on the right; with prolonged use, they were bound to burn through.
Su Li set the third pot back down and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
A middle-aged man in a leather apron entered through the workshop's side door, a broom in hand. Half his head was bald, while the remaining hair had been braided into three thin plaits that hung down his back. A ring of keys dangled from his waist.
The workshop manager.
He glanced at Su Li, then at the pots on the workbench, and said something.
Su Li caught the keywords. Runes. Do not touch.
"I know." Su Li pointed at the rune-covered area on the pot's bottom and shook his head. Then he pointed at the metal outside the runes and nodded.
The manager stared at him for two seconds, then pulled a wooden board from his pocket and handed it