The diorama fell into a brief lull.
Inside the ruined village, the doors of the dilapidated huts slowly creaked open. Ragged villagers emerged one after another, their clothes tattered and patched together with scraps of fabric.
They gathered around the flattened bodies of the bandits who had been crushed beneath Li Daoxuan's palm, murmuring among themselves. Their voices were faint and indistinct, like the buzzing of ants.
Unless they raised their voices, Li Daoxuan could not make out a single word. Every so often, someone would lift their head and stare at the sky, still bewildered by the bizarre event that had just unfolded before them.
Outside the glass, Li Daoxuan sat staring at his own hand.
His palm was stained red.
At first, he assumed it was just paint from the plastic figures. But when he brought his hand closer to his face, a sharp metallic odor reached his nose.
It was not paint.
It was blood.
One miniature had barely produced enough blood to notice, but after he had swatted dozens of them one after another, the accumulated blood had spread across his entire palm, leaving it slick with a crimson sheen. The smell was thick and nauseating, and there was no mistaking its authenticity. A cold shiver ran down Li Daoxuan's spine.
His eyes returned to the villagers.
They were not looping through some scripted animation. They were not following a pre-set program. Their movements had purpose, and their reactions were changing according to what had happened around them.
These are not toys, he realized. They are actually reacting.
The girl had looked directly into his eyes earlier, as if she could see him. She had even prayed to him. Now the villagers were moving with clear intent, gathering weapons, stripping the dead, and burying their fallen. Li Daoxuan glanced at the blood coating his palm once more before looking back into the box.
"These miniatures are alive."
The realization struck him harder than the exhaustion from staying awake. He hurried to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands beneath the faucet until his skin turned red and the water running down the sink was completely clear.
When he returned to the living room, the scene inside the diorama had already changed.
The villagers were busy. They had disarmed the fallen bandits and divided the weapons among the households. Some families received rusty blades, others took spearheads or broken shields. They stripped the bandits of their clothes as well, cutting and dividing the fabric among themselves. Beyond the village walls, they dug shallow pits into the yellow earth and dragged the naked corpses into them before covering the bodies with dirt.
Afterward, they turned their attention to their own dead. Those who had been killed before Li Daoxuan's arrival were wrapped in woven straw mats and buried in separate graves. Crude wooden stakes were driven into the earth to mark each burial site. Since nobody in the village could read or write, the villagers scratched rough symbols into the wood with knives, leaving behind marks that only their families would understand.
Among them was Gao Yiye. She knelt before a particular grave, tears streaming down her gaunt cheeks as she bowed again and again until her forehead touched the dusty ground.
Li Daoxuan could only watch.
Time passed differently inside the diorama. Dusk gave way to dawn, and dawn eventually became dusk again. By the time the second night arrived, the villagers had returned to their homes. Gao Yiye returned home as well, clutching the few belongings her mother had left behind. With tears still wet on her face, she eventually cried herself to sleep.
The diorama settled into stillness once more. Nothing else happened.
Li Daoxuan opened his mouth and let out an enormous yawn. Only then did he realize that he had gone two full days and nights without sleep.
A throbbing headache pulsed through his temples with almost migraine-level intensity. He dragged his exhausted body back to the computer and logged onto the history and military strategy forum he usually visited. After some hesitation, he anonymously created a post.
Title: The miniatures in my diorama suddenly came alive. What do I do?
Reply #1: Bro, go see a psychiatrist.
Reply #2: Pinch yourself. If it hurts, you're dreaming.
Reply #3: Any female minis in there? Try peeking when she changes clothes lol.
Reply #4: OP, take your meds.
Li Daoxuan stared at the screen.
"…"
Nobody understood. Nobody could possibly understand.
He switched over to his work QQ account, only to find his boss's avatar flashing like an alarm. During the twenty-four hours Li Daoxuan had spent glued to the diorama, his boss had bombarded him with messages.
"Still asleep? The client rejected yesterday's draft. I need the revisions done. Contact me the second you see this."
[Video Call Invited] ... Cancelled.
"What time is it? You're still not up? The client is pushing for the revisions."
"Damn it, it's noon. Are you dead?"
[Video Call Invited] ... Cancelled.
"It's 2 PM. Is this how you treat your job?"
[Video Call Invited] ... Cancelled.
"6 PM. No reply. Fine. Half a month's salary, settled. Get lost."
[Transfer Received: 2,350 Yuan]
Li Daoxuan stared at the final message.
"…"
He had lost his job.
Strangely enough, he did not feel particularly upset. There was no sadness or panic. Instead, he felt a strange sense of relief. He had already hated that soul-crushing freelance grind for months, and losing the job felt almost like someone had finally opened a window in a room that had been sealed shut for years. Then exhaustion crashed over him.
When was the last time he had actually slept properly? Whatever the answer was, he finally had the chance now. He was too tired to even brush his teeth. The moment he reached his bedroom, he collapsed face-first onto the bed and blacked out.
July 12, 2023. Shuangqing City. Summer.
Li Daoxuan woke up sometime after ten in the morning.
The headache caused by his lack of sleep was still lingering, a dull ache behind his eyes. Out of habit, he reached toward his keyboard, then stopped halfway. Right. He had no work today.
His stomach growled loudly. He had spent the entire previous day staring at the diorama without eating so much as a single grain of rice.
Li Daoxuan dragged himself into the kitchen, boiled some water, and dropped two eggs into the pot. As steam rose from the water and his sluggish brain gradually began to reboot, memories of the diorama came rushing back. He immediately hurried into the living room.
The diorama was still there. Inside, the sun was already high in the sky, and the miniatures had begun their daily routines.
Li Daoxuan spotted the girl almost immediately. Gao Yiye was carrying her bamboo basket through the barren sandy fields outside the village, desperately searching for grass roots. She had lost her mother only yesterday. She had barely been given any time to grieve before hunger had forced her back to work.
Li Daoxuan let out a soft sigh.
"Poor girl..."
The instant those words left his lips, something happened. Gao Yiye froze. Her head snapped upward. She looked around in confusion, her eyes darting across the sky as though searching for the source of the voice. Then her gaze suddenly locked onto one particular spot, the exact spot where Li Daoxuan stood.
Once again, their eyes met.
This time, the connection felt far stronger. Li Daoxuan's eyes held pity, sympathy, and curiosity. Gao Yiye's eyes held sorrow, desperation, and a fragile plea for help.
Year 1627 AD. Tianqi Era, Year 7. Shaanxi Province. Chengcheng County. Gaojia Village.
Gao Yiye was an orphan now. Yet she had no time to mourn.
There was not a single grain of food left in her home. If she stopped working, she would die. She could not sit around crying over her mother's belongings while hunger slowly consumed her.
She had risen before dawn with her basket in hand, her heart heavy as she made her way through the village gates. Her first stop had been her mother's grave. She knelt before it and bowed deeply three times. After that, she went to the mass grave where the bandits had been buried. Hatred surged through her as she spat onto the mound of dirt.
Die in hell.
Then she began searching. She had already searched this patch of sandy ground countless times, and every day, finding edible roots became more difficult. Her limbs felt heavier with every passing moment, while the edges of her vision began to blur. She swayed on her feet and struggled to remain standing.
Gao Yiye knew that her end was approaching. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Sooner or later, she would be too weak to even leave the village. But staying at home would only mean waiting for death to come. That day felt frighteningly close. Too close.
Then a sigh descended from the heavens. It was soft, yet the sound seemed to resonate through her very bones.
"Poor girl..."
Gao Yiye knew that voice. It was the same mysterious presence that had saved her yesterday. She immediately jerked her head upward.
The clouds above seemed to part, revealing the faint outline of a colossal young man's face in the sky. His enormous eyes gazed down at her, filled with compassion.
A fragile but brilliant spark of hope ignited within Gao Yiye's chest. She dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead against the scorching earth. Tears flowed down her cheeks, mixing with the dust beneath her.
"Tianzun," she whispered, her voice trembling from hunger and faith. "I'm starving. I can't hold on much longer. Please, have mercy. Save me."