Firing the Kiln

Through the everyday lives of these three boys at home and at school， this novel shows the changes through which the world-famous porcelain capital is going and how people facing these vicissitudes are still struggling to find a conjuncture point between traditional and modern lives. During this process， children gradually become mature. An innocent childhood is just like rough porcelain， and it needs to be fired up in the kiln to become smooth and beautiful.

Peng Xuejun

She is a children’s author. Peng was born in 1963 in Jishou， Hunan Province. She spent her childhood and teenage years in beautiful natural surroundings and the simple life of an ethnic minority autonomous prefecture in the Xiangxi region. Peng began writing stories in the late 1980s， with her work spanning full-length novels， novellas， and proses.

Mud Paw

Peng Xuejun

21st Century Publishing Group

January 2020

32.00 （CNY）

After forming the shapes， insert them into the saggar， place them in the kiln， and separate them accordingly. When firing， cover the door to the kiln with bricks， leaving just a little hole from which to add kindling， and intermittently stir the fire without stopping. Keep an eye on it， and when completed， put out the fire. Let it sit for a night before opening the kiln.

There was a gentle breeze， and while it wasn’t snowing outside， it was crisp. All was frozen stiff， and if you imagined everything from the houses to the cars， to the docks， chimneys， and streets with a set of teeth， they would surely have been clenched

tightly shut. The trees were leafless， and their taut， iron-black branches looked slim， hard， and brittle. A gentle tap would have been enough to make them snap.

Mud Paw stepped out the front door of his house. He had a school bag slung over his shoulder， and he looked out towards the sky to the east. It was a pale day. A plume of smoke rose in the air. It spiralled up until it couldn’t rise anymore， at which point it faded away. The chimney was like a giant pen. It dipped its tip in ink to write something， but in the end， it couldn’t produce a single character. Or perhaps it had written something that the wind had taken a liking to and decided to collect for itself. Of course， Mud Paw had no way of knowing for certain， but this was neither here nor there. What mattered to Mud Paw was whether or not the fire in the kiln was still going.

Specifically， he was interested in No.5 Kiln， which was the kiln closest to his home.

It contained incredible heat.

Mud Paw moved along the wall that surrounded the porcelain factory. He trembled as he walked forward. Once he reached a gap in the wall， he picked up some bricks and climbed over. The gap was a portion that had collapsed long ago， but nobody had ever paid attention to it， which boded well for Paw. In fact， sometimes adults even used the gap as a shortcut since entering the porcelain factory through the main gate took quite a bit longer.

As soon as a corner of the kiln room came into view， Mud Paw could sense the heat radiating from it. The closer he got， the more intense it became. It warmed him up as it heated the surrounding air. The frigid winter cold dug into his skin like countless bee stingers， but the kiln softened the stings and lightened the air. He felt like he was being wrapped up in a warm cotton sheet.

Running into the kiln room was more like running into a different season. The atmosphere inside was as sweet as early spring. The kiln workers were dozing in a corner like cats beside a fire. They had probably been there since they added the last piece of wood. The brick kiln produced a comfortable， peaceful aura. A gentle sound of crackling pinewood drifted out. It had a curved dome that looked like a giant loaf of baked bread， but it didn’t smell nearly as sweet as bread. The fusion of pine oil and glaze emitted a scent that was neither pungent nor fragrant.

Little Sky had already arrived. He lived a little farther away from the kiln plant， and it wasn’t on his way to school， but he still stopped by the plant before class. After all， who could stay away from such immense warmth on days when water droplets rapidly turn to ice？ It had a gravitational pull. Although he had only gotten there a few minutes earlier than Mud Paw， the kiln had already cooked his cheeks to a rosy red， causing Sky’s delicate features to appear almost feminine.

“You’re early， sis，” Mud Paw teased.

Nothing annoyed Little Sky more than when Mud Paw said this sort of thing， and in this instance， it prompted him to try kicking Mud Paw. But Mud Paw jumped back and dodged the kick. He reached out a hand and ruffled Little Sky’s hair. He wasn’t bothered by this， though. Little Sky never minded his hair being a little messy.

After their little tussle， both boys took worn cotton pads out of their school bags and wrapped their hands. This done， they extracted brick fragments from the kiln’s firing chamber. They held the bricks up to their chests. It was like having little furnaces in their hands. The intense heat spread from their chests to their backs and quickly radiated out. Even their frozen toes warmed up a little. They placed these “handheld furnaces” in their desk drawers during class， and they occasionally grasped them in their hands for warmth. This kept their hands from getting too stiff， which made writing characters easier. The “handheld furnaces” could keep warm for the better half of the morning. And during the midday break， they could go and get another from the kiln， which kept them warm for the whole day. In the winter， all the kids who lived near the kiln plant did the same. Over a dozen kids in Mud Paw’s class alone arrived at school with little “handheld furnaces” in their possession.

Of course， they didn’t fire No.5 Kiln every day. After the kiln’s fire went out， they would leave the door shut for a whole day and night. They didn’t open it until the temperature dropped enough， at which point the kiln workers took out all the porcelain within.

Then， the kiln remained unlit for about a week – but this wasn’t a problem for the kids.

It was a porcelain city， after all. The city was home to over a hundred kilns， big and small alike， meaning that wherever anyone went， they could always find a

nice “handheld furnace.” to over a hundred kilns， big and small alike， meaning that wherever anyone went， they could always find a nice “handheld furnace.”

They left the kiln factory through the front gate， which was the exit closest to their school. The gatekeeper， Old Guo， spotted them as they left and let out his usual barks： “Stealing again？ Is it a bowl or a plate？ Out with it！”

Old Guo wasn’t young， but he really wasn’t that old either. At any rate， the young and old alike called

him Old Guo. Perhaps he just liked teasing the kids because watching the gate had left him bored stiff. He found things to talk about when there was nothing that actually needed to be said. Mud Paw and Little Sky， for their part， didn’t want to be late， so they ignored the man and rushed toward the exit. But Old Guo left his post to block their path. They could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. He must have gotten drunk the night before and was still a little tipsy.

“It’s a gold brick… duh！” Mud Paw said to him flatly. He opened up the cotton pads in his hands so Old Guo could get a glimpse of the furnace.

Old Guo unexpectedly reached out his hand to touch it. “Ah！” he screeched， immediately jerking his hand back. Mud Paw and Little Sky erupted in a fit of laughter and quickly fled.