Si Mingjing was also very excited and said, "Anyway, tomorrow is the weekend, and the kids don't have to go to school. How long will the firing take?"
Mo Yinhe had a ready-to-use firing machine. By the year 2051, many technologies had made firing much simpler.
He said, "Twenty minutes."
Si Mingjing's eyes sparkled, just like the children's—her childlike curiosity hadn't faded. "I'm not going to sleep!"
Twenty minutes later, the finished products emerged from the kiln. Except for Xiaobai, who hadn't lifted a finger, everyone else felt a great sense of accomplishment.
Although Xiaobai hadn't participated, he dashed back to his bedroom and returned, presenting a Q-version Mo Yinhe like a treasured gift.
"Jingjing, look, this is what Little Master made before. Did Little Master do a good job?"
Ye Nianbai boasted proudly; it was his best work.
Si Mingjing almost died laughing.
