"Ah, sorry."
"Not keeping it under control was my fault."
"I really can't match up every single broken strand of hair. You'll have to piece them together yourselves, and I'll help repair them—"
"Don't worry, there's plenty of healing magic, plenty of energy, and plenty of Silk Fibroin Solution! Sorry, sorry—I've caused you trouble..."
Facing the broken hair scattered across the floor and the entire room, from the ceiling down to the legs of the chairs, Shen Le could only stabilize the fragments of the porcelain tower as best he could, laying them flat one by one while trying to reassure them.
Soft chuckles filled the laboratory. The Silk Skirts waved their sleeves and scattered in different directions to gather the severed strands of hair, comforting Shen Le as they worked:
[It's fine, it's fine. We have loads of hair anyway. We won't miss this little bit.]
[You don't need to match every strand. Just stick them together however you like, and they'll hold—]
[It's okay if they don't match. Give us enough energy, and the hair can grow back on its own.]
[You handle your work. We'll clean up all this hair and make sure not a single strand is left behind! None of it will stick to the back of the precision balance, beside the microscope lens, or in the gaps between the instrument buttons!]
Stop talking. The more you say, the more horrifying this scene becomes. My head was already starting to hurt!
Shen Le fought the urge to rub his head. His hands flew as he caught the porcelain shards one after another, carefully arranging them in neat rows on the table.
After a full hour of work, he finally got all the shards settled. He dropped onto the floor and let out a long sigh