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# Chapter 168: Whispers of the River
Eunsu was listening to what Minjun’s hands were saying. His hands were covered in clay—every finger, every inch up to his wrists caked with earth. Like a priest who had just performed some sacred ritual, his hands seemed to be observing a vow of silence. Along with the sound of the river, the dawn air touched her face indirectly. Moisture beaded on her eyebrows, on her lips. As if someone were trying to make her cry, Eunsu’s chest swelled with anticipation.
“You’ve been making pottery all night?” Eunsu asked. Minjun nodded. His eyes still seemed to be tracing the shape of the ceramic piece. His hands continued to move along invisible curves. Eunsu listened to what his hands were telling her. What were they trying to say? The way they moved, like ripples on water, stirred something deep within her.
“What kind of pottery?” she asked. Minjun appeared lost in thought. His gaze shifted from some distant point to her eyes. His eyes were deep and dark—like the depths of the river itself. What were they telling her? Eunsu found herself listening to the language of his eyes. His gaze pulled at her heart like starlight from a night sky.
“I… I don’t think I can tell you yet,” Minjun said softly. His voice was low and quiet, carried to her ears on the sound of the river. She listened to what his voice was saying. Like spring rain, it seeped into her heart.
Eunsu held his gaze. His eyes were deep and dark, like the river’s depths. The dawn air touched her face. Moisture gathered on her skin. Her chest rose with a trembling anticipation, as if someone were drawing tears from her.
“What did you make?” she pressed gently. Minjun blinked, his eyes still seeing the shape of his creation. His hands continued their silent dance along invisible curves. What were they trying to tell her? The movement stirred her heart like waves.
“I… I don’t think I can tell you yet,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. It mingled with the sound of the river, seeping into her like spring rain.
She watched him—his deep, dark eyes like the river itself. The dawn air brushed against them both. Her breath quickened.
“Minjun, can you show me what you made?” Eunsu asked. He seemed to consider this, his eyes moving from some far-off place to meet hers. They were deep, so deep. What were they saying?
He took her hand. His palm was still covered in clay, but he held her hand firmly. She felt what his touch was telling her—warmth spreading through her like summer sunlight, melting something frozen inside.
Together, they walked toward the riverbank. The sound of the river accompanied them, the dawn air brushing against their faces. They looked into each other’s eyes without speaking. Their hands remained clasped. What were they saying to each other? Along with the river’s voice, they confirmed what they already knew—their love, unspoken but undeniable. They held each other’s hands, gazed into each other’s eyes. What words could possibly capture what flowed between them?
Their love began with the sound of the river. Hand in hand, eye to eye, they moved together as one. What were they saying? In the river’s song, they found their answer—love recognized, love confirmed. Like a spring morning announcing a new beginning, their hearts spoke in perfect silence.
The river’s voice carried their story forward, eternal and unceasing, as two souls found in each other what the water had always known.