The diorama box finally fell silent. The doors of the ramshackle houses in the tiny village creaked open, and the miniature villagers—dressed in tattered rags—filed out. They gathered around the flattened bandit miniatures that Li Daoxuan had slapped to their deaths. They circled the bodies, whispering among themselves, occasionally lifting their tiny heads to glance at the "sky."
Li Daoxuan sat outside the box, looking at his own hand.
His palm… was red.
At first, he thought it was paint or coloring from the plastic models.
But the moment he lifted his hand to his nose, a sharp metallic scent hit him.
Blood.
The smell was unmistakable. A single miniature didn't contain much blood, of course—
but after he had swatted dozens of them, his entire palm was stained scarlet.
The stench grew thick and nauseating.
Inside the diorama, the villagers continued whispering around the corpses like murmuring ants. Their voices were so faint that without them shouting, he couldn't make out a single word.
A strange thought crept into his mind:
They aren't following some pre-programmed script… are they?
The girl miniature had clearly looked up at him earlier.
She had prayed to him.
And after he killed the bandits, the villagers reacted accordingly—changing their behavior based on events rather than preset scenes.
Li Daoxuan stared at the blood on his hand… then back at the little people in the box.
"These miniatures… are conscious?"
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
He hurried to the bathroom to wash his hands, then rushed back to the box.
The tiny villagers were hard at work now. They collected the bandits' weapons and distributed them—one per household. They stripped the bandits' clothing and divided those as well. Outside the village, they dug a large pit in the yellow earth and buried the naked corpses.
They also wrapped the bodies of the slain villagers in woven grass mats, carried them outside, dug graves, and set up crude wooden markers. No one in the village seemed to be literate; the markers bore only crooked knife-scratched symbols to indicate which family the deceased belonged to.
The girl miniature knelt before one of the graves, tears streaming down her face as she bowed again and again.
Li Daoxuan watched all of this in silence.
From dusk to dawn…
from dawn to dusk…
until the box's time reached the second night.
Finally, the miniatures returned to their homes.
The girl did too—clutching her mother's belongings, crying herself to sleep.
The diorama screen froze into its "idle state."
Nothing more to see.
Daoxuan yawned heavily. Only now did he realize he had also gone two full days without sleep.
His temples throbbed painfully as he dragged himself back to the computer.
Confusion filled his mind, so by habit, he logged onto his usual history-military forum and anonymously posted:
"The little people in my diorama suddenly came alive. How should I deal with this?"
Reply 1: "Go see a doctor."
Reply 2: "Pinch yourself until you wake up."
Reply 3: "Any female miniatures? You should spy on her changing clothes lol."
Li Daoxuan: "…"
No one understood what he was going through.
He opened his work QQ account. His boss's profile picture was flashing violently.
He clicked.
Throughout the entire day he'd been staring at the diorama, dozens of urgent messages had piled up:
"Still not awake? The client rejected your design. Needs revisions ASAP."
"Incoming video call… cancelled…"
"It's noon! Are you dead or what?"
"If you don't respond I swear—"
"Incoming video call… cancelled…"
"6 PM. Last chance."
"Incoming video call… cancelled…"
"Your half-month salary is settled. Get lost."
"You received a transfer: 2,350 yuan."
Li Daoxuan: "…"
He lost his job.
But honestly? He didn't even feel sad.
He'd wanted to quit that crappy job for ages. Being fired felt almost like relief.
Exhaustion washed over him.
He couldn't remember the last time he slept properly.
Too tired to even wash up, he fell into bed face-first and immediately blacked out.
July 12, 2023 — Shuangqing City — Summer
When Li Daoxuan woke, it was already past 10 in the morning.
His head still ached from sleep deprivation. Out of habit, he turned on his computer… then remembered he no longer had work. His stomach growled loudly. After watching the diorama the entire previous day, he hadn't eaten a single grain of rice.
He stumbled into the kitchen, boiled water, and tossed in two eggs.
As his mind slowly cleared, he suddenly remembered the diorama.
He sprinted back to the living room.
The miniature village was still there.
The tiny people were awake, moving about, doing their daily tasks.
And there—he spotted the girl again.
Carrying her bamboo basket, wandering the barren sand fields looking for edible roots.
She just lost her mother yesterday. She hadn't even had time to grieve—survival pushed her back to work immediately.
Daoxuan sighed softly.
"Poor girl…"
The moment the words left his mouth, the girl jerked her head up.
As if she heard something.
She searched the sky…
and then her gaze locked directly onto where Daoxuan was.
Their eyes met.
His filled with sympathy.
Hers full of sorrow… and pleading.
**1627 AD — Ming Dynasty, Tianqi Year 7
Shaanxi Province — Chengcheng County — Gaojia Village**
Gao Yiye had lost her mother. She now stood completely alone.
But she had no time to mourn.
There was no food in her house.
If she didn't find something to eat, she would die within days.
At dawn she had risen, carrying her bamboo basket and her grief, and walked out of the village.
She knelt at her mother's grave first, then spat at the burial mound where the bandits were thrown, before beginning her search for the rare spots where weeds once grew.
But she had searched these sands too many times.
Roots were harder and harder to find.
Her limbs felt weaker by the day.
Her steps unsteady.
She wasn't sure how long she could endure.
Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after.
Someday soon, she would no longer have the strength to leave the village.
And that day felt closer than ever.
Just then, she heard a sigh from the heavens:
"Poor girl…"
The voice… she had heard something like it before.
Gao Yiye snapped her head up.
From within the clouds, the faint face of a young man formed.
Their eyes met.
Compassion.
Warmth.
A divine presence.
Hope flooded her chest.
She dropped to her knees, bowing deeply.
"Heavenly Lord… I'm starving. I can't hold on much longer.
Please… please show mercy and save me.