SG 2

When he left the ocean park, the sunlight was already harsh. Yan Anqing put on his baseball cap, pressed the brim down to block the light, and walked quickly toward the entrance of the underground passage outside the main gate, completely unaware that he had become the “cold handsome guy” in the mouths of the mermaid performers. He knew this route so well that he wouldn’t get lost even with his eyes closed. Except for when he visited his grandma, he came here almost every day.

It had rained last night, but the temperature hadn’t dropped. Once the sun came out today, it got even hotter. By the time Yan Anqing reached the door of his shop fifteen minutes later, a thin layer of sweat had already gathered on his nose. He unlocked the padlock on the glass door, pushed it open, grabbed a bottle of water for himself, took two sips, and glanced at the digital clock on the wall. It was exactly 11:30.

His shop was in the row of ground-floor commercial units across from the ocean park, separated by an eight-lane road. The underground passage made it easy to get across. It was called a shop, but he also lived there. The unit had a 5.6-meter-high ceiling, and he had divided it into two floors with a reinforced concrete slab. The first floor was the pottery shop, and the second floor was his living space.

In truth, the ground-floor stores in residential buildings weren’t ideal for pottery shops. There weren’t many walk-in customers, and residents rarely came to buy pottery. But when his grandma took him to the agency to look for a place, this was the only one he wanted. It was the only unit near the aquarium. His grandma decided on the spot. If she couldn’t fulfill his wish of living by the sea, at least she could help him live beside the aquarium. At that time, there wasn’t even an ocean park yet, only a small aquarium with few visitors.

Early last year, a large company bought the aquarium, expanded it, and turned it into a full ocean-themed park. Overnight, it became one of the city’s landmarks and a viral check-in spot. Because this residential complex was close to the park, many landlords started running homestays, welcoming travelers from all over the country who came to visit the park. That also made his pottery shop more fitting for the area. Tourists would drop by, buy a few small items to take home, and slowly, his handmade ceramics began to sell.

There were rarely any customers in the morning. Yan Anqing carried the half-empty water bottle over to the saltwater tank against the wall. He checked the thermometer and the protein skimmer, then looked carefully at each starfish clinging to the glass, resting on the sand, or hiding inside the pineapple castle. After confirming they were all fine, he finished the rest of his water and walked into the workspace behind the glass wall.

He put on an apron, cut a large chunk of clay with a wire, slapped it a few times, and placed it on the potter’s wheel. As the wheel began to spin, the lump of clay stretched and took shape, turning into a plate. This was the most relaxing time for him. His fingers pinched gently along the rim, forming the curve of a lotus leaf, then he used a scraper to carve out the veins.

The forty-square-meter first floor was divided by a glass wall. The larger section had wooden shelves filled with finished ceramics. The smaller section was his workspace, where he shaped, glazed, and fired the pieces in the kiln. He had built the glass partition so that he could work while keeping an eye on the front area. Later, he found that customers were more interested in the workspace itself. Many people would stop and watch him work even if they didn’t buy anything. He didn’t understand why, but he didn’t mind either.

He lived like a precisely ticking watch, his days divided into clear segments, each one assigned to a specific task. Every morning, he got up early, washed, and went downstairs to open the kiln. He checked each ceramic piece he had fired the previous night, restocked the good ones, stored the extras, and set aside the slightly flawed but usable ones as freebies. Only after finishing that would he eat breakfast, put on his apron, and start crafting.

The only variable in this perfectly organized schedule was his daily visit to the ocean park. At first, he could time it exactly. He would change clothes and leave at 10:45, arrive at 11, spend five minutes silently greeting each sea creature, and return by 11:20. That changed a little over a month ago when the aquarium got a new “male mermaid.” Since then, the length of his stay depended on how long that mermaid appeared.

He had slowly figured out a pattern. The male mermaid seemed to be absent every Monday, so he usually arranged visits to his grandparents on Mondays. On weekends, the mermaid performed for twenty minutes, and from Tuesday to Friday mornings, only ten. But for some reason, the mermaid hadn’t appeared yesterday, even though it was Wednesday. So he spent only five minutes greeting his old friends and went home.

When the electronic bell sounded and said “Welcome,” Yan Anqing was working on a bamboo-patterned cup. He looked up briefly at the two girls entering the shop, then continued shaping the clay. Not everyone who came in would buy something.

The two girls walked around, picking up cups and bowls, liking everything they saw, but they complained that pottery was too heavy to carry back home. Then they spotted a wicker basket filled with small handmade ceramic starfish near the display table. The colors were pretty, and the shapes looked real.

“Boss, how much are these starfish?” one girl asked through the glass.

Yan Anqing washed his hands, took off his apron, and walked out. “The price is on the tag next to them.”

She looked down and saw the small sign: one for eighteen yuan, a set of six for ninety, no bargaining.

“Can you give us a discount if we take four?”

“Six.” Yan Anqing frowned slightly.

“We’ll take four, can you make it sixteen each?” The other girl tried again when she saw he wasn’t very talkative.

“Six,” he repeated.

They failed to bargain, but they liked them too much to leave, so they picked out six and went to the table with the QR code to pay.

“Wow, this mermaid plate is gorgeous.” One girl noticed the shell-shaped ceramic plate on the table with a raised mermaid figure on it.

Yan Anqing said nothing and took a bag to pack the six starfish for them.

“Hey, doesn’t this look just like that male mermaid we saw at the ocean park today?” The other girl lifted the plate and looked closely. The hairstyle was different, but the features and expression were almost the same.

“How much is this plate?” the girl who had finished paying asked.

“It’s not for sale.” Yan Anqing pointed to the small tag beside it. It read: “Not for sale, for display only.”

“It even has the abs and the lines, so detailed.” Knowing it wasn’t for sale, they didn’t insist. It would’ve been hard to carry something that big home anyway.

“It’s not for sale, but can I touch it?” One girl reached out, wanting to feel the sculpted muscles.

“No.” Yan Anqing took the plate, covered the mermaid with his hand, and blocked it completely. The little figure wasn’t even the size of his palm, but he hid it entirely in an instant.

“It’s not like it’ll break, don’t be so stingy.” The girl looked confused at his reaction.

“No.” Yan Anqing wanted to hide the plate but couldn’t find a place for it. In a rush, he lifted his shirt and stuffed the plate inside.

The two girls looked at each other. The shop owner was handsome, but something about him definitely seemed strange.