Sophia Sullivan stood at the center of the crowd.
Her fingertips lightly touched the clay.
Water droplets scattered.
Ethan Sullivan suddenly realized something.
Her slowed movements earlier were meant to demonstrate basic techniques.
Now the clay spun rapidly in her palms.
Within thirty seconds, the rough form took shape.
The carving began.
"That technique... it's masterful," someone murmured in awe.
Liam Winston and Chloe Evans paled.
Their eyes remained fixed on Sophia's every move.
Suspicious of trickery.
Ethan had expected her to need assistance.
Yet she only occasionally requested tools.
"Small file," Sophia said coolly.
Her hands were steady as stone.
The clay seemed to come alive.
Ethan handed her the file.
When their fingers brushed, the scent of winter plum enveloped him again.
His Adam's apple bobbed.
He gently dabbed her temple with a handkerchief.
The fleeting contact felt strangely familiar.
Her skin was smooth as fine porcelain.
Sophia remained oblivious.
Her focus never wavered from the emerging sculpture.
Clay dust flew.
Her fingers danced like butterflies.
When the carving finished, she added delicate brushstrokes.
Majestic mountainscapes materialized before their eyes.
Ethan felt an unfamiliar tranquility.
The world's noise faded away.
The restless fire in his veins quieted.
This woman was an enigma.
Youthful yet possessing ancient mastery.
Aloof with everyone.
Just like that woman from that night.
Who had disarmed him so effortlessly.
Whose eyes remained icy even in passion.
Like a thousand-year glacier.
The courtyard first buzzed with admiration.
Then gradually fell silent.
All eyes burned with intensity.
Breaths grew heavier.
Liam had waited for her to fail.
Now he stared in disbelief.
"Impossible..."
He remembered three years ago.
Sophia had gifted him a ceramic puppy.
Distracted, he'd shattered it carelessly.
The shards might have cut her arm.
Or perhaps not.
He'd never truly looked at her.
After that day, she never made anything for him again.
An inexplicable unease gripped Liam.
As if he'd lost something irreplaceable.
The sun dipped low.
Sophia set down her brush.
Her work stood complete.
Mr. York applauded enthusiastically.
Sophia accepted Ethan's handkerchief.
Her movements graceful and assured.
Cheers erupted like thunder.
Amusement glimmered in Ethan's eyes.
"Ms. Sullivan, I'd pay any price to have you at my ceramics studio!"
Someone eagerly extended an offer.
Mr. York promptly shooed them away.
"Closed this month!"
He cradled the auspicious-patterned tea set reverently.
His hands trembled with emotion.
"I can die content now."
"You'll live a long life," Sophia reassured softly.
The old man always lost composure over fine pottery.
Sophia turned to the ashen-faced pair.
Her gaze frosty.
"A bet is a bet."
"Kneel."