The Puppet Takes Me Across?

The poor young policeman had heard someone jumped into the river and sprinted over, arriving drenched in sweat. A large, damp patch had bloomed on his short-sleeved shirt, turning the light blue fabric into a deep, dark shade.

Upon hearing Shen Le's reply, the flush on the officer's cheeks slowly faded. He looked at the puppet, then at Shen Le, and finally up at the river ahead. He opened his mouth, unsure whether to offer praise or a reprimand. After a moment of hesitation, he managed to squeeze out:

"...Next time, watch where you're going!"

"Yes, yes, I definitely won't jump into the river again..."

"It's fine, it's fine, move along, nothing to see here!" The young policeman waved his hands at the surrounding crowd, gesturing for them to disperse. He crouched halfway down and reached out to Shen Le:

"Give me that thing first. Can you climb up on your own? Good, grab my hand... one, two, three, up!"

Shen Le was hauled directly onto the stone embankment. As he stood up, he heard the policeman fire off a barrage of questions:

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did you lose anything? Your clothes are soaked through—do you need me to take you home?"

"Ah, no, I'm fine!" Shen Le quickly checked himself. The soles of his feet weren't cut by the riverbed, and his arms and legs were free of scrapes. His shoes were still on, and the phone and keys inside them were still there:

"Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine! I live at 18 Nanhua Street, it's very close. It's such a hot day, I can just walk back. Sorry for the trouble!"

"18 Nanhua Street?" The policeman stiffened, staring at Shen Le as if trying to see straight through his skin to the bone. That was a massive mansion!

However, no matter how he looked, he only saw a bedraggled, soaking-wet guy. He had no choice but to pull out his phone and hold it out to Shen Le:

"As long as you're okay. I'll be going then; I still need to find out who threw this puppet. Throwing things from high up, honestly... Let's add each other on WeChat. My name is Shi Guangbing, I'm the community officer for this street. If you need anything, just reach out!"

Oh, how convenient—he was the officer in charge of this area. In the future, when renovating the house or purchasing equipment—perhaps even restricted reagents—knowing a policeman would certainly make things easier. Shen Le quickly added him on WeChat, bid the young officer farewell, picked up the puppet that had "called for help," and walked briskly back to the old mansion.

He showered, changed his clothes, placed the puppet on his workbench, and began to carefully untangle the silk threads to examine it.

The puppet appeared to be a marionette, about 60 centimeters tall, with silk threads attached to every joint. Overall, it was intact; the head, neck, torso, limbs, and even all ten fingers were present.

However, the wood used was nothing special—likely Chinese Fir. After years of neglect, it had suffered significant damage. The paint on the surface was aged and peeling in large patches. There was a clear crack at the back of the head, and the torso looked as if it were about to split in two. A large chunk was missing from the right forearm, a hole had rotted into the left thigh, and there were countless other nicks, scratches, and stains.

The puppet's clothing was tattered, frayed, and faded. Yet, when he spread the skirt out under the lamp, he could still see large, embroidered peonies made of silver thread—magnificent, brilliant, and lifelike.

As for the makeup on the puppet's face, it had faded over time until it was almost gone. Only those vivid, soulful eyes and the single cinnabar-dyed teardrop at the corner of the eye faintly hinted at the peerless beauty it once possessed.

"Ah... you must have been very beautiful once..."

Shen Le gently brushed his fingertip over that teardrop and sighed softly. He steadied his mind, untied the silk threads one by one, removed the damaged clothing, and laid out the head, torso, and limbs in order.

Then, he grabbed a towel and began to wipe—wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe...

"Well, I can handle wood repair. My major was ancient architecture restoration, so I can fix you up, or if you want, I can carve new parts from fresh wood. Replacing the silk threads is no problem, though I'm not sure if you'd accept nylon..."

He muttered to himself as he wiped, pretending to converse with the puppet:

"The clothes are a lost cause; I really don't have the skill to make those. I'll have to buy them—I'll try my best to find something with a similar pattern. As for the makeup, that's the final step. If you think my painting is ugly, we'll just have to see if the Copper Fragment can help restore it..."

At this thought, Shen Le felt a stir in his heart. He took out the Copper Fragment and pressed it against the puppet's face. A surge of heat seeped from the fragment into the puppet, then fed back into Shen Le's fingertips. The next moment, his vision went black, and the world spun—

"Bang!"

A dull thud echoed. Shen Le felt his entire field of vision shake, and dust rained down, nearly blinding him. Before he could even make sense of his surroundings, a roar exploded in front of him—or perhaps above him:

"Play, play, play! All you ever do is play! You don't do your homework! You don't read your books! What's so fun about this piece of junk puppet!!!"

"Xiao Lin isn't a piece of junk..."

A small, fearful voice rose up with unexpected firmness. Shen Le's gaze shifted, and he saw himself standing in a narrow, cramped room. It had a concrete floor, walls painted white on top and green on the bottom, and a swaying tungsten lightbulb overhead—at most 15 watts. It was clearly a scene from the 1980s.

Huh?

Did I time travel?

Shen Le rubbed his eyes and continued to observe. In the corner of the room, a seven or eight-year-old boy stood in front of a wooden chest, arms wrapped tightly around a puppet. The puppet was about half the child's height, its bright red brocade skirt tattered, yet the large silver-thread peonies were still visible. Its makeup was faded, but the cinnabar teardrop at the corner of its eye was exceptionally vivid—it was exactly the same puppet Shen Le had fished out of the river.

The boy's face was flushed red, but he held his head high, staring defiantly at the adult man in front of him:

"Xiao Lin is my friend!"

"Fine, fine, talking back, are we!" The man's face darkened. He stepped forward and snatched the puppet right out of the child's arms. He took another step toward the window and reached out to push it open:

"I work myself to the bone at the factory all day, and I pick up odd jobs after hours, all so you can ignore your homework and play with this puppet! I'm throwing it away today, let's see what you play with then!"

"Xiao Lin was left to me by Grandpa!" The boy jumped up desperately, grabbing the puppet's silk threads and winding them around his hand:

"I promised Grandpa I'd become the best, best puppeteer! I'm going to take Xiao Lin everywhere to perform! Don't throw it away! Don't throw it away! Waaah—"

He wailed as he pulled back with all his might, letting the threads dig deep into his flesh, refusing to let go even as his fingers began to bleed. Shen Le watched helplessly and reached out to grab the puppet, trying to intervene:

"Don't do this..."

His fingers passed straight through the man's arm like wisps of smoke; he couldn't touch anything. Shen Le froze. He swung his arms, shouted, and tried to throw his body against them, but no matter what he did, he couldn't affect the father or son in the slightest:

"Could it be... is this just a memory? I'm here, but no one can see or hear me, and I can't do anything but watch?"

Shen Le lowered his arms in frustration. In the room, the father and son were still arguing:

"What kind of puppeteer! There's no future in that! Is a theater troupe going to hire you? Or an opera house? I'm working myself to death to put you through school so you can go out on the streets and pull strings?"

"I'm really good at it! The other kids love watching!"

"Even if they love it, it doesn't matter! Even if you want to get into the Youth Palace, you have to finish your schooling! We don't have connections; you have to at least finish high school before you can even think about the Youth Palace! Look at your old man—I only finished middle school, and all I can do is work in a street factory!"

The two argued back and forth several times. Finally, the father gave in:

"Alright, alright! I won't throw it away, but you aren't allowed to play with it! Let go! I'm locking it up!"

He carefully untangled the threads from his son's hand, picked up the puppet, and tossed it into the chest. With a "bang," the lid slammed shut, followed by the sound of a lock clicking into place.

Shen Le's vision instantly plunged into darkness, then flashed bright again.

When his sight cleared, he was back in front of his workbench. The dismantled puppet lay scattered across the table, its head and limbs separated in different spots.