The copper fragment, which had originally been half a palm wide, had extended outward. Now, resting in his hand, it covered three-quarters of his palm. Shen Le weighed it in his hand, feeling a little troubled.
If it kept growing by a bit every time he repaired it, how big would it end up?
Forget turning into a bronze artifact, like a cauldron. Even if it grew into a copper plate a foot across, he still wouldn't be able to handle that!
Half a palm wide, he could hang it around his neck as an ornament and tell people it was a family heirloom that protected him. But what could he do with a copper plate a foot across?
Use it as a breastplate?
He carefully ran his fingertip over it. The last time he repaired the Gold-Painted Landscape Screen, the copper fragment had risen slightly, as if another stroke had appeared. This time, another stroke had appeared, intersecting faintly with the previous one. It looked like a dot with a horizontal line beneath it. In the space between the dot and the line, a tiny point of light flickered on and off.
"What's this point of light for? What does it represent? A skill? A cultivation technique? An entrance to a pocket dimension? Or—"
Shen Le tentatively poked it. Where his fingertip touched, it didn't feel like hard, slightly rough copper. Instead, it had a little give and felt slightly warm. Shen Le held his breath, focused his mind, and gave it a forceful jab—
Everything went black.
"Boom!!!"
A tremendous crash shook the house. Dust, tiles, and broken beams rained down.
"Air raid! Air raid!"
"Take cover!"
"Erzi! Erzi—"
"Mommy, Mommy! Waaah—"
Shen Le stared around in bewilderment. Above him, a rumbling like distant thunder drew closer. Then a shrill whistle, sharp enough to pierce his skull, plunged through the air!
Huh?
What was going on?
Had the copper fragment taken him through time?
Or was there another world inside it, where he was supposed to explore, grow, and find some kind of turning point?
This world sure was dangerous. Explosions, air raids, and that rumbling and whistling... Had he stumbled into a war?!
Shen Le reflexively threw himself to the ground. The whistling lasted only a moment before it turned into a massive explosion, nearly deafening him.
He lay on the ground with his head in his hands for a long time. Only when the whistles, explosions, and sounds of buildings collapsing gradually faded did he cautiously climb to his feet—
It was hell on earth.
A blast of hot wind carrying smoke and dust hit him in the face.
The smoke was saturated with an overpowering stench of blood, so sickening it made him want to vomit.
Shen Le had only ever seen war on television and in movies. This was his first time experiencing it firsthand. As far as he could see, a third of the houses on the entire street had collapsed. The remaining two-thirds were in no better shape: at best, their windows were shattered and their roof tiles damaged, trembling as pieces fell one by one.
"Put out the fire—!"
"Quick, put it out—where's the basin, where's the basin..."
"Please, help me—my little girl's trapped under the bricks—Nannan, hold on! Mommy's coming to save you—"
"Help—!"
Screams and cries filled the air. People called for help putting out fires and rescuing others. Mothers wept for their children, wives for their husbands; every kind of anguished wail rose together.
For a moment, Shen Le forgot to wonder whether he had traveled through time or been reborn. He instinctively rushed toward a collapsed house, wanting to help clear away the bricks and rescue the child underneath. But when he reached out and strained with all his might, the half-collapsed brick wall didn't budge.
Thinking he hadn't used enough strength, he turned slightly and grabbed a few bricks. He lifted again, but the two seemingly weightless bricks still wouldn't move...
"Ah... This is just like the scene before. It's a memory inside the Puppet... So I can't be hurt here, but I can't do anything either. I can only watch?"
To test whether this was really a memory—and because he couldn't just stand by—Shen Le ran back and forth along the street.
He went from one end of the street to the other, then back again, doing everything he could to help. He tried moving bricks, carrying basins of water, and picking up crying children...
He tried again and again, but only managed to watch. He couldn't touch anything. And the street seemed to have invisible walls. Whenever he reached the end or tried to leave by one of the alleys, he ran into some inexplicable barrier after only a few steps. He couldn't get any farther.
Shen Le wandered around in confusion. He couldn't figure out how to get involved or how to leave. The people all around him were crying and shouting, fighting fires and rescuing others. He alone stood there, isolated, like a lonely spirit adrift between heaven and earth.
The only ones remotely like him were a few very young children. They didn't understand the grief of losing loved ones or the misery of their homes collapsing. They wandered aimlessly through the street, and whenever an adult scolded them, they burst into tears.
Shen Le circled the children several times, trying to comfort them, wipe their tears, sing to them, or make funny faces. Nothing worked. Just as he was beginning to panic, someone slowly crawled out of a half-collapsed old house nearby, making a rustling sound.
It was a man with graying hair. No, wait—not an old man. He wasn't actually that old. He only looked it because his face was haggard and dirty. Patches upon patches covered his shoulders, elbows, and the front of his clothes, all gray with dust. A thin line of blood trickled from his temple.
He didn't seem to care. He casually wiped it away with his sleeve and crawled over to the children. Struggling to his feet, he untied the cloth bundle tucked inside his clothes and reverently took out a...
Puppet?!
Little Puppet?
Is that you?
So this really is your memory?
Is this the copper fragment connecting me to your past?
Shen Le rubbed his eyes and hurried forward to take a closer look. The puppeteer was filthy all over, but the Puppet he pulled out was spotless and radiant. Its Red Skirt fluttered, its headdress gleamed, and it held a red-tasseled spear in both hands.
The puppeteer held it up and waved it in front of the crying children a few times, then tugged on the Silk Thread. The Puppet raised its head, bent backward, straightened, spun around, and danced about, its spear twirling through seven or eight dazzling flourishes.
"Beyond the gate, three cannon blasts thunder and roar. From Tianbo Mansion steps the loyal defender of our country. My golden helmet presses down on my temples; once more I don the Iron Armor I wore in days of yore. The commander's banner floats into the clouds..."
Then came a series of spins, sweeping turns, one-handed spear flourishes, two-handed spear flourishes, and tosses and catches of the spear. It was a dazzling display. At first, the children kept crying, but gradually the Puppet captivated them. Tears still clung to their little faces, but they were already giggling and clapping with delight.
Shen Le stood to one side, watching the puppeteer sing and chant as he manipulated the Silk Thread, completely absorbed in entertaining the children. Before long, Shen Le found himself smiling too. At the same time, a surge of joy welled up in his heart:
Don't be afraid!
Children, don't be afraid!
Even with war, even with bombs, even with your homes destroyed and your families dead or wounded—
Life still has to go on, and it can go on. In all the days ahead, there will always be some little moments of happiness for you to remember, giving you the courage to keep going!