The Devotion of the SilversmithBy Yonglin Zhou
The rhythmic sound of hammering echoed repeatedly as the hammer struck against the nails, leaving a series of indentations and etched lines on the silver sheet.
Uncle sat steadily on a small wooden stool, with a slightly higher stool in front of him, though not much larger, its width barely sufficient for his solid, rounded figure. On the edge of the stool lay two boxes filled with various nails, along with scissors and pliers. These simple tools, in uncle's hands, became instruments for creating beauty.
Uncle focused entirely on hammering the silver, his fingers darkened by time, bearing the deep marks of years of labor. Though no longer young, his hands remained as steady as a mountain, with each strike precise and forceful, devoid of any unnecessary flourish. It is difficult to imagine that such exquisite silver ornaments were created under these simple conditions.
Initially, I thought these silver ornaments were mere art, but as I watched Uncle work, it became clear that his process of hammering the silver was itself an art form. Each strike seemed to leave a mark on the river of time —— the clumsy boy who first attempted silverwork, the vibrant youth admired by many, and the rotund middle-aged man before me all gradually blended into one.
Uncle's father had been a silversmith as well, and their family was one of only three silver shops in the entire village. At that time, silver was a luxury, and the village could hardly afford to produce more than a few pieces of silver jewelry. Thanks to the family business, Uncle's sister was fortunate enough to wear silver, though the pieces were much lighter back then.
Gradually, Uncle inherited his father's craftsmanship, continuing the family's tradition. He happened to come into his craft at the right time, around the year 2000, orders for silver jewelry flooded in, so many that he could barely keep up. As a result, Uncle became a wealthy man in the village, earning the respect of the villagers. He continually innovated his silver-working skills, developing a unique wire-pulling technique based on his father's expertise in carving.
In the small room inside his house, Uncle had a designated workspace for melting and welding silver. Both the table and the walls showed clear signs of long exposure to flames.
The welding torch shot out dazzling tongues of fire, reflecting the bright red of Uncle's face. During the welding process, he had to ensure the silver did not melt completely, which would cause it to lose its shape, while also ensuring that the silver wires bonded firmly together, As the flames danced across the surface of the silver, Uncle held the torch head tightly, concentrating intently on the interaction between the fire and the silver, much like a master chef carefully controlling the heat of a dish, paying close attention to every subtle change in temperature.
