Transmigrated Into the Stand-In of the Tragic Novel’s Heroine - Chapter 46

The official account of the Moye Platform immediately reposted Xie Qingtang’s Weibo post, attaching the official website and a brief introduction to the Folk Handicraft Museum.

Chang Qing was willing to promote Xie Qingtang out of respect for Chang Yishao, but the top recommendation spot was the result of weighing the pros and cons. They had long been aware of the prevailing trends from above and knew that their job was to closely follow the pace, ideally securing a share of the market. He was different from Chang Yishao; he was a businessman.

The Handicraft Museum had always been low-key, only being spread by word of mouth among handicraft enthusiasts. However, looking at the long list of inheritors on the official website, even the detractors couldn’t find anything to refute. They were all renowned masters, inheritors passing down the national essence from generation to generation—each one of them was an impressive figure capable of astonishing all.

The museum, full of hidden talent, silenced some people, but a portion still strongly argued that Xie Qingtang’s live stream was biased, focusing on herself rather than the masters—hardly any masters appeared in the camera; it was mostly ordinary folks.

The counter-arguments came quickly, and they were a slap in the face delivered personally by the masters, who rarely checked Weibo for information. Where did their skills come from? Some were family traditions, others were learned by traveling around, and their teachers were these very “country folks” who were looked down upon.

“We are not the creators; we just put some effort into collecting and categorizing them so that our folk heritage does not completely disappear,” the masters’ tone was humble compared to the arrogance of the no-names.

Mo Ping was one of the arrogant no-names. He was a handicraft enthusiast and a loyal fan of the streamer “Can Do Anything” for several years. This time, he was furious that the top recommendation spot was not given to his favorite streamer but instead taken by an unknown, sensationalist figure.

A small group of streamers on Weibo banded together to protest against the Moye Platform. Mo Ping was swept up by the massive flow of their fans, rushing to the comments section, determined to find fault. His mind had briefly cleared when Xie Qingtang posted her Weibo, but the protesters quickly found a new angle, splicing a short clip from a recording of Xie Qingtang’s live stream—claiming that Xie Qingtang was speaking high-mindedly, only using the live stream opportunity to showcase herself and some elderly women to gain fame and fortune.

Mo Ping’s moment of clarity instantly vanished with such rhetoric, and he continued to question the Moye Platform’s official blog.

—There are so many streamers who could go there to live stream, why specifically “Tangxi”?

The official Moye Platform account actually replied to him: “Because, until this moment, only Tangxi has generated such an idea.”

Mo Ping was speechless for a while. It wasn’t until the long-inactive Weibo of the masters was updated that he felt as if he had been severely slapped, his head spinning. After a long time, his mind snapped back, and he realized his own narrow-mindedness. He had only watched a fragment and followed the crowd’s shouting to condemn the streamer. What right did he have to speak?

After re-watching the recording, Mo Ping realized that the compilation was not intended to tell everyone how amazing the masters were, but rather to allow an ordinary person to immerse herself in the craft, transmitting knowledge through personal experience. It wasn’t “showing off” the beauty of the skill; it was transmitting a “spark.” Those elderly people he looked down upon—which one of them hadn’t been immersed in this craft for a long time? They might be illiterate, but they possessed the integrity of an artisan, and their skills were sufficient to be a teacher.

Mo Ping suddenly realized his mistake at that moment.

He knew the streamer wouldn’t care about him, but he still went to Xie Qingtang’s Weibo to write a long apology. His former fierce rhetoric turned into deep guilt, becoming a knife pointed at himself. As expected, the streamer did not reply to him. However, his phone kept alerting him to increasing activity—likes and agreeing replies.

As long as one person felt moved after reading his words and realized their own narrow-mindedness and vulgarity, it would be a good thing.

Xie Qingtang had no time to worry about the online commotion. After moving from the dyeing and printing craft area to the lacquerware craft area, her free time became even scarcer. During dyeing, she had to personally harvest the indigo; here, it was the same—she needed to personally go and “tap the lacquer.”

Materials are naturally derived. The advancement of science and technology has gradually popularized synthetic coatings and chemical paints, and “natural lacquer” is rarely seen in daily life. However, among this group of traditional artisans, they knew they needed to hold fast to this position.

“Tapping the lacquer is not an easy job; it’s dirty and tiring. And if the lacquer tree’s sap accidentally touches the skin, it will become red and itchy,” the old master said while handing her an apron and gloves.

There were quite a few mosquitoes and other insects in the woods, and the ground was covered with weeds; only a small path had been cut with a sickle. Xie Qingtang followed behind the old master, her feet rustling on the fallen leaves. She watched the old master skillfully make a crescent-shaped incision on the wrinkled trunk of a lacquer tree, then place the pre-prepared plastic container beneath the cut, allowing the sap to slowly flow into the container.

“The saying goes, ‘start cutting in Minor Heat, stop cutting in Cold Dew,’ but here, we can actually tap the lacquer between April and August. However, the quality of the lacquer sap is best during the peak of summer,” the old master introduced, making another practiced cut while talking to Xie Qingtang.

To learn the skill of tapping lacquer, one needed to try it for oneself. Xie Qingtang had decent comprehension. Although she hadn’t witnessed lacquer tapping before, she had seen other similar things. After the old master taught her the technique, she also stepped forward, eager to try.

“Hold the knife steady, the incision must be straight, and it needs to be uniform,” the old master said while watching Xie Qingtang.

Xie Qingtang calmed herself and made the first incision on the lacquer tree, which was at least five years old. The sap flowed down the trunk, most of it dropping into the plastic container. At first, it was milky white, but as time passed and the oxidation deepened, it slowly turned chestnut brown.

“It will turn dark brown when it dries,” the old master saw Xie Qingtang was interested and chuckled, “It is said to be ‘white as snow, red as blood, and black as iron,’ referring to it!”

Both Xie Qingtang and the old master carried portable cameras, but as they moved through the woods, the footage was not as steady as the edited final cut. Xie Qingtang was a novice, unlike the experienced old master. Even wearing an apron and gloves, she inevitably got some sap on herself. She had medicine with her, but the small spot on the back of her hand still looked a bit red and itchy.

—Tapping lacquer, my grandfather used to plant a lot, but now no one does it anymore.

—The streamer is truly dedicated. Isn’t it better to sit in an air-conditioned room?

—Experience is “walked” out.

Chang Yishao glanced at the live stream during her free time and easily noticed Xie Qingtang getting some lacquer sap on herself from the comments and bullet screen.

Her brows furrowed, and she felt a slight panic. Lacquer trees are poisonous; their sap easily causes itching and allergies. However, she quickly calmed herself down. The museum always had workers tapping lacquer, and they had plenty of ways to handle it. Her worry at the moment was ultimately unnecessary.

Her work in Yu City was not yet completely finished, and she couldn’t rush to Shen City alone.

If she went without any consideration, it would only make Xie Qingtang feel surprised and awkward. Xie Qingtang seemed indifferent to everything, but her heart was sharp and extremely intelligent.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Chang Yishao suppressed the turbulent emotions in her heart. She had endured loneliness for many years, believing she was already accustomed to solitude, yet now, within this familiar atmosphere, her heart felt like it was being boiled in a pot. As the days of Xie Qingtang’s departure increased, that vague, wisp-like emotion slowly solidified to a point she couldn’t ignore herself.

She longed for that vibrant vitality, that clarity and purity like glazed glass.

The small itch on the back of her hand subsided after applying the medicine, almost imperceptible.

The light was on in Xie Qingtang’s room. She rested her chin in one hand and held a pencil in the other, drawing on paper. Lacquerware, lacquerware—it required lacquer, but it also required a vessel. She needed to design and consider whether this vessel should be round or square. The lacquerware craft was painstaking; making the lacquer was one thing, and making the vessel was another. From the lacquerware blank process to the lacquerware decoration process, there were at least ten steps.

Xie Qingtang felt a little regretful—wouldn’t it have been better to ask the old master to make a piece of lacquerware? Why insist on doing it herself? However, this thought only lingered in her mind for a moment before dissipating. Since she was determined to film a piece, she needed to personally try every craft area. If she didn’t immerse herself, how would she know the difficulties involved?

Furthermore, since she decided on a return gift, it naturally had to be the best and most heartfelt one. Compared to Chang Yishao, she possessed nothing but her sincere intention, which was the best repayment.

A “bright pearl” given to a beautiful woman—she deserved it.

Xie Qingtang drew a simple sketch on the paper, knowing she had run out of inspiration at the moment, so she pushed the paper and pencil forward and stretched. She looked up and saw the antique wall clock, realizing the time was approaching Chang Yishao’s usual time for a video call.

Today’s “routine call” should be coming soon, right? As the thought crossed her mind, the notification bell suddenly rang, breaking the silence of the night.

Chang Yishao sat on the bed wearing a thin silk nightgown, the neckline slightly loosened. Her skin was jade-like under the light. She was adjusting her posture before finally speaking, “How is everything?”

Xie Qingtang looked slightly up at the ceiling and sighed, “It’s a bit hot.”

Chang Yishao pursed her lips, her eyelashes lowered, hiding the somewhat dim light in her eyes. After a moment of silence, she still asked, “What about your hand?”

Xie Qingtang was startled. She realized that Chang Yishao was still paying attention to her live stream. She looked at Chang Yishao, and neither of them spoke. It felt like a long time, yet only a moment, before she raised her eyebrows and smiled, “It’s only the size of a fingernail. I applied medicine; it’s fine.” She paused, then her gaze shifted, carrying a hint of mischief, “Professor Chang, isn’t it inappropriate for you to be neglecting your proper duties and watching a live stream in the office?”

“It’s break time,” Chang Yishao’s hanging heart dropped after hearing Xie Qingtang’s words. Her features completely relaxed, and her expression softened by three points. “I’ve already submitted my resignation.”

“That’s not bad,” Xie Qingtang smiled with curved eyes, resting her chin on her hand, then asked, “Are the students willing to let you go?” From the short few days of interaction in Pingyao, she could sense Chang Yishao’s popularity among the students at the school.

“Gathering and parting are common occurrences; one always gets used to it,” Chang Yishao replied.

Xie Qingtang did not answer. She repeatedly pondered the five words “gathering and parting are common occurrences.” This was once the phrase she remembered most firmly. In her endless work of traversing worlds, gathering and separation were constant. Now that she had arrived in a world for retirement, she thought she wouldn’t have to wander anymore and these words should all be discarded. But it wasn’t so; one world, countless worlds—where there is gathering, there will be parting.

She let out a breath, looked at Chang Yishao on the screen, and smiled with a free spirit, “Indeed, gathering and parting are common. When we gather, we rejoice. When we part, I wish you… a smooth journey ahead, with a bright and beautiful future.”

Chang Yishao fell silent, her eyelids twitching. In a daze, she grasped another layer of meaning from Xie Qingtang’s words.

“You—”

“What are you planning to do after you resign?” Xie Qingtang’s question diverted Chang Yishao’s thoughts.

Chang Yishao did not answer, and Xie Qingtang felt a little regretful.

When Chang Yishao used to ask her such questions, she felt that Chang Yishao was whipping her to succeed, but now everything was reversed.

How could Chang Yishao have nothing to do?

“Didn’t I say I would help you?” Chang Yishao’s reply was very soft, yet it clearly reached Xie Qingtang’s ears, word for word.

Mixed with a strange sorrow, it caused Xie Qingtang’s heart to suddenly clench.

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