"Ah, rust is much easier to deal with." Shen Le rinsed the residual acid off the scroll rod with a dilute baking soda solution, sighing as he worked.
"Especially with something like this—not very old and without any cultural heritage value. You just toss it in rust remover, take it out and neutralize the acid, then wash it clean. That's basically all there is to it. Rust on bronze is incredibly difficult to deal with. Removing it is practically inhuman work..."
"How do you remove it?" Xiao Ling leaned over again.
"With this rust remover?"
"No, this kind won't do. It's for iron. Bronze is made of a different material and is especially fragile, so you need another formula. Can you guess what it is?"
"How am I supposed to guess?" Little Puppet hopped onto his shoulder, grabbed one of his hairs, and swung back and forth.
"Come on, tell me! Tell me!"
"In the early days... that formula was a real hassle..." Working alone was lonely and dull, so Shen Le told Little Puppet a story to help keep himself alert.
"Take 500 grams of red fruit and remove the seeds. Add 250 grams of rice vinegar, 250 grams of glacial acetic acid, 100 grams of salt, 100 grams of ammonium chloride, and 100 grams of copper sulfate. Then boil it in an earthenware pot..."
"An earthenware pot?!"
"Right, you have to use one. Boil it until the red fruit is completely soft and mashed into a paste, then add a little emerald green pigment, stir it well, and spread it over the bronze!"
"That actually works?"
"It does, and it works pretty well." Shen Le chuckled.
"An older master of cultural relic restoration even praised the formula, saying, 'It takes a long time, but it is gentle and does not damage the bronze...'"
It was all a last resort, back when resources were scarce and technical expertise was limited. They could use industrial formulas—formic acid, cysteine, triethanolamine, borax, and so on. Who would want to boil red fruit paste in a lab?
After neutralizing the remaining acid, Shen Le took the rod out, rinsed it with clean water, and wiped it dry. The rust remover he'd ordered was custom-made for his university and contained a corrosion inhibitor that offered some protection to iron. Once he'd washed and dried the rod and let it air-dry thoroughly, he applied a coat of rust-preventive paint. Then he put it back into the wooden handle and fitted it into the Ink Marker again.
"Perfect!"
The handle turned smoothly, without the slightest sticking or catching. While he adjusted it, Xiao Ling sprang into action, cradling the spool in her lap. Holding the spool in one hand and silk thread in the other, she began winding it with a whir.
Her movements were nimble. Gripping the end of the thread, she spun her little hands so fast they blurred, winding the spool even faster than Shen Le could.
By the time Shen Le finished adjusting the handle, she had already handed him the wound spool. He secured it in place, then passed her the end of the thread.
"Xiao Ling, give me a hand. Can you thread this through the Ink Reservoir... Hey, great job!"
At his praise, Xiao Ling leaped high into the air, clutching the silk thread, then dove beneath the table. She was like a giant plumb bob, dropping under the weight of the Ink Line as it unwound with a clatter, all the way to the floor below the workbench. She swung back and forth like she was on a swing, delighted.
Shen Le: "..."
He quickly stuffed two large pieces of absorbent cotton into the Ink Reservoir and poured in ink. Then he laid the Ink Marker flat on the table and pulled the thread back until it lay almost flush against the surface. He pinched the Ink Line, lifted it, and let go—
"Twannng!"
The string sang, leaving a perfectly straight, fine black line across the tablecloth on the workbench.
"Nice! If I didn't still have to restore the exterior, it'd already be working great like this..."
As he murmured to himself, his vision shifted again. Shen Le wasn't surprised anymore. If anything, he was pleased. I really do have a good eye!
This Little Ink Marker really could develop a spirit, and it really could give his Copper Fragment a huge amount of experience!
Look, he'd only just started repairing it, and already it had brought him another memory!
He straightened up and looked around.
The room was no more than seven or eight square meters, with a ceiling so low he couldn't stand upright. The stench of mildew wafted from the old plank walls. On a mottled square table, the flame of a kerosene lamp flickered softly.
In the dim light, a young man's strong, calloused hands held a carving knife, carefully cutting and hollowing out the wood.
"Aw, it broke again! Master, this Devil's Work Ball is just too hard to make. There's no way to work in such a tiny space!"
"Impossible? That's because you don't know how to do it." A pair of hands, their skin loose and wrinkled and mottled with age spots, took the wooden bead and carving knife. The knife moved swiftly, cutting delicately into the wood.
The old man no longer had the strength of a young man, but his hand was exceptionally steady. With each stroke, the wood shavings he cut away were identical in size and shape. As he worked, he explained to his apprentice:
"Keep your mind calm and your hand steady. Follow the grain of the wood, and vary the pressure of your hand ever so slightly. Don't just use brute force. Look, right here..."
"Master, you're a grade-eight craftsman, and what grade am I? This may be easy for you, but that doesn't mean I can do it too!"
"If you can't do it, then practice more!"
The old man finished carving a circle, then handed the wooden bead and carving knife back to his apprentice and watched him work on it slowly. After a while, he couldn't help smiling.
"Ai Jun, when are you ever going to finish that Devil's Work Ball? Want Master to help you? That girl Chang Hong has plenty of young men chasing after her, you know~~~"
"Master!"
The young man cried out in embarrassment, his ears turning red. Even so, he refused to give up.
"I said I'd make it myself, so I have to do it myself! If you make it for me, Chang Hong will look down on me!"
The old man laughed heartily. After a while, he got up and headed for the door. He put a hand on it, then paused and turned around.
"Ai Jun, the more you think about something, the less you should rush. If you think about Chang Hong while carving that bead, you'll probably end up with nothing at all!"
The old man left, leaving the young man named Ai Jun to carve the Devil's Work Ball one stroke at a time.
Shen Le stood beside him, craning his neck to watch every movement of the carving knife and each detail of how he applied force.
The more he watched, the more overwhelmed he felt. The more he watched, the more he felt that he had little hope of restoring this Devil's Work Ball.
The old man was a grade-eight craftsman, and his apprentice, who was making a Devil's Work Ball by hand, was probably a grade-three or grade-four craftsman. What grade was Shen Le?
Grade two?
Grade one?
Could he even qualify as a grade-one craftsman?
Still, just as the old man had said, if you weren't good enough, you had to practice more.
Shen Le leaned beside the young man named Ai Jun, watching as he worked and moving his own fingers gently, as if he, too, held a wooden ball in one hand and a knife in the other. Up and down, up and down.
After watching and imitating for who knew how long, the light and shadow before him suddenly began to shift.
Shen Le raised his head blankly and looked around. He had moved to a new setting, from a cramped house to a spacious, airy factory. Huh?
The memories transmitted by the Copper Fragment had a new feature. Could it show him two memories at once?