I'm Chalk and I'm an artist .

I came from Dashan Village, where not many understood art .

I played with my companions a lot when I was young .

While they were busy playing in the mud, I was making shapes with it and was often made fun of by them .

Of course, I didn't mind .

When the village's volunteer teacher mentioned one day that fire can harden clay, I got excited .

After cla.s.s, I brought my figurine to the teacher's house .

However, she only frowned upon seeing it .

Nevertheless, I asked happily, "This will crack when dried, Teacher . You said fire can harden it and not leave cracks . Is it true?"

She smiled . "How about you leave your figurine with me and you head home first? I'll settle it and bring it to you tomorrow . "

"But I'd like to learn," I said .

Helpless, she responded, "It's time I give you extra cla.s.ses . What is this ugly thing?"

"But that's you," I replied .

That day, she borrowed a stove from the neighbor's house .

We remodeled the figurine before getting rid of the surface bubbles and knots .

I looked on as she placed my mud figurine on the stove .  

Four hours later, she

retrieved it with a stick and placed it outside to cool down before handing it to me .

I was so happy that I couldn't speak . The teacher smiled and asked, "Do you like it?"

I nodded eagerly before revealing a wide grin .

After some thought, she added, "Come over at night, whenever you're free, and I'll teach you more . "

The teacher stayed with us for three years, and according to her, our artistic standard had improved from being completely illiterate to that of a junior high school student .

And I was her favorite student .

She gave me many one-to-one cla.s.ses, teaching me things like perspectives and the golden ratio .

Whenever she returned home for the new year, she would come back with propylene paints .

"These paints can give your work colors, but they can only last 5 years . Remember to keep the lids closed when you're not using them or they will harden," she told me kindly .

Before she left, she pa.s.sed all her materials to me . I cherished them so much that I used them really stingily .

I started making more and more potteries and got better at it .

While other kids were plowing the fields at 14 or 15, I refused to let go of the clay even at 17 years old .

While Mom and Dad nagged at me every day, they don't really push me out to work .

Because the stuff I make could fetch money .  

I'll have to start from

from my father .

Each year, some villagers would make a trip to town to engage in trading, and my father happened to be one of the agents .

Dad brought two of my art pieces into the city a few years back and returned with a green banknote . He was beyond happy .

I recognized the 50 dollar bill in spite of the fact that we, as villagers, had no use for it .

Dad shared, "There was a group of tourists in the city . One of them looked at your ceramic art for a long time before asking for the price . Before he could buy it, an argument broke out because someone else was interested in it too . The price kept going higher . "

Later on, I discovered that the tourist group had experienced a tire burst while on the road .

The tour guide quickly brought them into the market in order to pa.s.s time, and two tourists happened to catch sight of my ceramic works and got into a fight .

Eventually, Dad sold them off at 50 each, before using a 50 to buy a bunch of things back to the village .

A few years after that incident, Dad stopped following the other villagers to the market .

Instead, he pushed his handcart, containing my ceramic pieces, even further away .

He chose a rest station where tour buses would often stop for tourists to take a break from their long journey .

Dad would then pull his cart around to sell my work, then spend the earnings on supplies .

Initially, employees at the station would chase Dad away, but after some time, upon discovering that he had traveled miles just to get business, they started to sympathize with him .

And Dad started from selling the pieces once a year to once in six months .  

Then once a month . I was requested to create 10 pieces each month .

It was easy for me since I enjoyed making things . The only problem I had was that some of my paints were running out . I had no choice but to bring it up to Dad .

After some discussion, he decided to look for some people at the rest station .

He sought help from a bus driver, who actually agreed to bring him some paints .

However, Dad got a shock when the driver pointed to his phone screen to show him the cost of the paints .

Over a hundred for one small tube of paint . The driver laughed and suggested that he used my ceramic pieces as collateral .

Although Dad felt that the driver was being dishonest, he had no choice but to accept his offer .

Every month, he would bring ten ceramic pieces to the rest station and pa.s.s five of it to the driver in exchange for five tubes of paint .

Then, he would sell away the other five pieces for cash to buy supplies from the market .  

It became a regular routine .

However, as the distance between our village and the rest station was about 17 kilometers away, Dad would only return home late at night .

One day, when he no longer had the energy to carry on, he handed this task over to me .

For the first few times, he would follow me as I pull the cart to the rest station .

After the third time, he completely entrusted the job to me .

During my first trip alone, I met up with the bus driver .

"Where's that old man?" he asked .

"My father? He can't do this anymore . I'll take over from here . Do you still have red paint?"

He entered the resting room while I waited outside .

I noticed him retrieving it from a drawer filled with countless tubes of paint .

That aroused my suspicion . Aren't these things expensive?

The driver approached me and handed two tubes of red paint over . "2 for 200, or 5 ceramic pieces . "

After sealing the deal, I started chatting with a customer after selling my pieces .

He told me he was an art student and he took a lot of interest in my work .

I quickly asked him about the price of paint tubes .

He fished out his phone and introduced me to an app called Taobao .  

After checking out the real price of the paint tubes, I couldn't control my emotions .

I ran off to give the bus driver a good beating .

A few other employees held me back . It was a big mess at the rest station .

I returned home, crying to Dad and telling him the truth . He got so angry that he picked up a hoe and got ready to go seek revenge .

I stopped him, of course, but he was so upset that he couldn't sleep that night .

The next day, he took out a small pouch and said to me, "Go to the city, kid . This is not the place for you . The city's where you should be . "

I opened the pouch and saw ten 100 bills .