There was a quiet Tuesday morning, the kind where the light spills through the window like honey, and the world feels suspended in amber. I was scrolling through an online marketplace, not looking for anything in particular—just a mindful drift through pixels and promises. That’s when I stumbled upon a small ceramic teacup. Its description read: ‘hand-thrown in Jingdezhen, the porcelain capital.’ I paused. For years, I had heard the whispered stereotype: why are chinese products so bad? It was a question that lingered in the corners of my mind, like dust collecting on a neglected shelf. But this teacup, with its imperfect glaze and soft curve, invited me to…