Chapter 474: The Puppy and the Kitten

"Actually, I originally planned to come here and play right after everyone had dinner yesterday."

After growing tired from playing games, Ying Chanxi leaned against Li Luo's chest to rest, and heard him playfully fiddling with her small hand while whispering in her ear.

"But after thinking it over, I decided it's better to bring you here alone. We can postpone the plan of coming together with everyone else for another time."

"Mm." Ying Chanxi nodded lightly in his arms, eyes closed, savoring the peace—no matter what Li Luo said, she felt it was right.

Of course, if Li Luo really had brought all of them to Golden Lake yesterday, Ying Chanxi would have been happy too.

After all, as long as Li Luo was there, everything else didn't matter much.

It was just that today's private date made her feel even more surprised and delighted.

They had eaten lunch early, finishing by just after eleven, then played upstairs for nearly two hours, when Li Luo finally received a message from the owner of the handicraft experience studio, reminding him that the morning's clay blanks had been fired.

So Li Luo patted Ying Chanxi's head and whispered in her ear: "Time to go—the cups are fired. We still need to paint them."

"Mm." Though lying there was comfortable, Ying Chanxi obediently stood up from his arms and slipped her small hand into his.

The two returned downstairs together, parted again at the entrance to the gender-separated baths, and went to the changing area to put on their own clothes.

Li Luo finished changing first and came out, waiting until Ying Chanxi emerged, then took the key card from her and handed it to the front desk to settle the bill.

Their basic bath fee wasn't expensive, but they ordered some dishes at the restaurant, ending up spending seven or eight hundred.

To Li Luo, it was nothing, but for an ordinary Gao Zhongsheng, it was expensive—few Gao Zhongsheng would come here to play.

The two left Golden Lake and, after a few minutes, returned to the handicraft experience studio in the alley.

The owner was already waiting, smiling warmly as she greeted them inside and led them to sit at another wooden table.

On the table sat two clay cups, clearly already fired.

After sitting down, Ying Chanxi politely asked if she could touch them; upon receiving permission, she carefully reached out and stroked the cup's surface.

Unlike the earlier sticky feeling, the raw blank now felt rough and slightly granular—not smooth—but no longer pliable like before.

"Once the raw blank is fired, we can paint it with glaze colors," the owner clapped her hands, gesturing for them to look over, then pointed to a row of paint buckets on the shelf by the wall.

"I usually apply a base coat first, then use finer brushes to outline the patterns."

"So you can first choose your cup's base color, dip it, then set it aside to dry."

"Then try drawing your design on paper first; once the base coat is partially dry, transfer the pattern onto the cup."

"After these two steps, fire the cup once more to fully fix the glaze—then your mug is done."

Li Luo listened quietly, comparing it to his past-life experience, realizing that although this shop was still small, it offered a complete service.

It probably had to do with having few customers.

After all, making cups requires two firings, and most guests don't have time to wait.

So usually, the shop provides pre-fired blanks for customers to paint directly.

The whole experience might only take one or two hours.

Where else would a shop owner dedicate an entire day to just two customers?

Ying Chanxi was quite interested in painting; she got up and wandered in front of the paint buckets, asking the owner to show her actual finished color effects.

Finally, she chose two paint buckets—one white, one black—from the shelf.

"Just these two?" Li Luo asked.

"Yeah. Your cup will be white," Ying Chanxi said. "Mine will be black."

"Didn't expect you like black?"

"What are you thinking?" Ying Chanxi gave him a look. "Your cup is for me to use, mine is for you—so you get black."

"... I misunderstood."

The owner naturally knew they wanted to make a matching couple's mug—but hadn't expected them to pick black and white.

"Why not choose red or blue?" the owner asked curiously.

"We already have too many red and blue couple items at home," Ying Chanxi clearly recalled something, shaking her head emphatically—she wanted distinction.

But the owner assumed they'd bought many red-and-blue couple items before, so she didn't think more of it and nodded with a smile.

"Applying the base color is simple: use this tool to clamp the cup, slowly dip it into the paint bucket, make sure it's fully coated, then take it out and place it on this tray."

Ying Chanxi and Li Luo sat aside, watching the owner take another idle blank, clamp its rim with a special tool, slowly lower it into the paint bucket, then lift it out moments later.

The process was indeed much simpler than the morning's.

Ying Chanxi and Li Luo quickly dipped their cups into black and white base colors, handing them to the owner to dry.

Then they sat at the wooden table, pulled out two sheets of white paper, selected some paints, and picked up fine brushes to sketch on the paper.

Li Luo hadn't decided what to draw yet, so he glanced over at Ying Chanxi and saw her intensely sketching something; curious, he leaned closer to look.

"Why did you draw a puppy?" Li Luo asked.

"That's you," Ying Chanxi grinned. "You're a dog."

Li Luo: "... Are you insulting me?"

"Where's the insult? This puppy's so cute," Ying Chanxi huffed.

"Then I'll draw a dog too."

"No!"

"Double standard, huh?"

"No, just no," Ying Chanxi grabbed his hand, thought for a moment, then suggested, "How about you draw a kitten instead?"

"I'm the dog, you're the cat?"

"Exactly."

"Hmph, fine." Li Luo remembered the pen-pal letter Ying Chanxi had written him last time—this dog and cat theme fit perfectly. He nodded and began practicing drawing a kitten on the paper.

Rare chance to play with paint, and the base coats needed long drying time—both of them drew vigorously.

After practicing enough dogs and cats, they drew a bunch of other things too.

The shopkeeper's wife, delighted by their interaction, generously offered them several plain blanks so they could practice hands-on—even if they messed up, it didn't matter.

Ying Chanxi eagerly cradled a cup and began attempting to paint, while Li Luo watched beside her.

For him, as long as he successfully painted a pattern once, the Memory Palace ensured there was virtually no chance of error—he was quite relaxed now.

Watching Ying Chanxi paint on the cup, Li Luo saw her succeed occasionally and fail occasionally, and as he observed her serious expression, he found it adorable.

"Why are you staring at me all the time?" Ying Chanxi, unsettled by his gaze, puffed out her cheeks. "You're watching me like this, I can't paint well."

"You can't blame me for that," Li Luo laughed. "If you kept staring at me, I could paint well too."

"Hmph." Ying Chanxi punched him lightly, then turned back and focused intently on painting, finally mastering the skill of drawing puppies.

When the base color of their cups finally dried and they could apply other pigments, the shopkeeper's wife walked over with a tray and placed it before them.

"This isn't practice anymore," the shopkeeper's wife smiled. "You'll need to paint carefully. Of course, if you make a mistake, there are ways to fix it—no need to be too nervous."

Li Luo, of course, wasn't nervous at all.

He picked up the tray, brought over his own white cup, and skillfully painted a small flower cat on it.

It looked adorable.

Ying Chanxi was far more nervous than Li Luo; she carefully held the tray, pondered for a long while, then turned to glance at the countless little dogs she had drawn earlier.

After a long while, Ying Chanxi finally gathered her courage, picked up her paintbrush, entered a flow state, and immersed herself completely in painting with a serious expression.

Looking at the final yellow puppy that had taken shape, Ying Chanxi finally exhaled deeply and nodded with satisfaction.

But a black cup with only a single puppy pattern still felt too plain.

So Ying Chanxi turned the cup around, gazing at the other half of the empty space, and asked the shopkeeper's wife, "Can I write something here?"

"Of course you can," the shopkeeper's wife smiled and nodded. "Just make sure the strokes of the characters are spaced apart a bit—write larger, so it's safer."

"Mm-hmm! I understand." Ying Chanxi nodded, thought for a moment, scribbled on a sheet of white paper repeatedly, and finally decided what to write.

But when she saw Li Luo leaning in to peek, she quickly pushed his head away with her hand: "Hey, don't look yet—have you finished yours?"

"I finished long ago."

"Then write a blessing message too—I've already thought of mine, hurry and write yours."

"Let me see what you wrote."

"Nope, not showing you!" Ying Chanxi grumbled, shoving him aside, then turned to the shopkeeper's wife. "Can I not let him see what I wrote? Give it to him only after firing."

"Of course," the shopkeeper's wife chuckled, her face still lit with delight at their charming interaction. She nodded repeatedly. "When you're done, hand it to me—I won't let him see."

Li Luo found it amusing, surprised she could be so childish.

So he stopped trying to peek, returned to his own white cup, thought for a moment, then picked up his brush and began writing.

"Don't forget to sign it," the shopkeeper's wife suggested from beside him. "Write the creator's name and the date—it'll make it more meaningful."

Ying Chanxi's eyes lit up. Though she wasn't a puppy, she loved marking her creations and immediately followed the shopkeeper's advice, deciding to add one more detail.

After both finished writing, Ying Chanxi vigilantly blocked Li Luo's view, preventing him from seeing what she had written.

Li Luo found it funny and couldn't help teasing: "You'll have to let me see eventually."

"Wait until it's fired," Ying Chanxi replied, though her eyes secretly stole glances at his cup.

Li Luo saw right through her scheme and chuckled, blocking her view with his hand: "What are you looking at?"

"I wasn't looking at anything," Ying Chanxi grumbled, turning her head away.

The shopkeeper's wife watched them with a smile, feeling sweetness lingering on her tongue.

It was already past four in the afternoon; the shopkeeper's wife lifted the tray holding both cups and said, "Firing will take another one or two hours—are you waiting here to pick them up when done, or coming back later?"