"How strange!" Song Miaozhu actually understood the little paper doll's meaning.
It was complaining—displeased with the quality of the paper she'd used for its body, and even grumbling that she hadn't made it a dress. Left bare like this, it had crouched down, arms wrapped around itself in embarrassment.
According to Secret Art of Paper Crafting, only years of nurturing could produce a paper servant with such high sentience!
This one not only judged the quality of its paper, but also felt shame over its nakedness—and even had a specific request: a little skirt!
The manual mentioned that the spirit of paper crafts was, in essence, the spirit of the crafter's own spiritual energy. Humanoid paper constructs, in particular, inherited traces of their creator's temperament.
Song Miaozhu thought for a moment. If she were without clothes... cough cough... she'd be even more mortified than this little paper doll. Feeling a little guilty, she said,
"All right, all right! I'll make you a new one—with a little skirt this time! But I can't switch the paper yet. Once the delivery arrives, I'll cut you a new version with better materials."
Only then did the little doll lift its head.
Picking up her large scissors, Song Miaozhu set to work cutting out a new figure. This time, it wasn't just a head, body, arms, and legs.
She added a skirt, a fringe of bangs, and two little braids.
The old paper doll peeked curiously from the edge of the stone table as she worked, eyes bright with anticipation. Before she even had the chance to ask if it liked the result, the old paper doll collapsed on the table. A red wisp of spiritual energy flowed from it and entered the freshly cut figure in her hands.
The very next moment, the new paper doll stirred.
Its paper-thin hands reached up to pat its braids, then straightened the hem of its skirt. It hopped onto the table, twirled in a delighted little spin—
Clearly, it loved its new look!
After admiring itself, the doll stood smartly on the table, gazing up at her with eager eyes.
Song Miaozhu understood instantly: it couldn't wait to help her.
For the first time, she added a note in her mental copy of Secret Art of Paper Crafting, under the chapter about crafting servant dolls:
"Giving paper servants aesthetically pleasing forms may increase their work motivation!"
Just look at this little one! Moments ago it had been sulking, and now it was full of enthusiasm.
But it was the middle of the night—what work could she possibly assign it?
Not wanting to dampen its spirits, she thought for a moment and said, "It's getting late. Why don't you come with me back to the paper shop?"
The spiritual energy at the old family estate had been completely drained by her earlier efforts and might take a while to recover. She planned to sleep at the paper shop tonight instead.
The paper doll raised its tiny hand in a salute—something vaguely resembling a military gesture—and leapt up to perch on her shoulder.
Song Miaozhu packed up her things, locked the door, and rode her electric scooter down the hill. She had just entered the town proper when a flash of white streaked past—and the doll vanished from her shoulder. Hitting the brakes, she turned around to see the doll lying motionless in the roadside weeds.
"Already deactivated?" she muttered, dismounting to retrieve it.
The figure was completely inert—its spiritual energy had vanished.
The connection between them was gone.
The paper in her hand was now nothing more than... paper.
She tried channeling crimson energy into it again, but the doll remained lifeless.
Clearly, ordinary paper wasn't good enough.
The manual had said so:
"Spiritual paper was required to preserve infused energy. High-quality spiritual paper could even absorb ambient energy from the air and replenish itself over time."
Ordinary paper, though, couldn't hold spiritual energy at all.
"But the yin-energy puppets lasted longer. Why do spiritual-energy ones fade faster?"
Then it hit her—no spiritual light dots had merged while crafting these two. No glow, no endurance.
Ever since her brow space opened, spiritual energy bypassed her crafts entirely, flowing straight into the crimson crystal shard.
Did this mean her future paper crafts would lack the spiritual glow?
So far, she only knew the glow enhanced quality—its other effects remained unknown.
In theory, though, if spiritual energy could achieve a result, spiritual power—being a concentrated form—should be able to do the same.
But the crimson crystal shard in her brow-space was only about the size of a bean. After crafting two dolls, much of its energy had been consumed. Its color was now so faint it was barely visible.
Just a small draw of energy made her brow throb faintly with pain.
Her body's warning signs were clear: she was nearing exhaustion.
This must be what the old texts meant by "spiritual depletion."
She looked around the quiet town street—empty, save for the warm yellow glow of streetlights. The energy in both the old estate and the paper shop had been drained dry. But the street still held some floating motes.
"…Should I give it a try?"
Without further hesitation, she slipped a hand into her shoulder bag. Using the bag as cover, she summoned a pre-cut sheet of gold paper from her ghost-warehouse.
Gold lotus flowers were still too complicated—best to test with a simple paper ingot first.
Perched on the scooter seat, she folded the paper. Soon enough, she felt the spiritual energy gather, and a small trickle seeped toward her brow.
After one paper ingot, the crimson crystal's color deepened just a bit—she had recovered a trace of power.
Seeing this worked, she tucked the finished ingot into the box on her scooter's rear seat. Folding ingots was easy, but they were far less efficient than gold lotus flowers at drawing in spiritual energy. To absorb all the street's remaining energy, she'd need to fold a lot of ingots—soon she'd run out of space to store them.
So she pulled out a stack of gold paper from her bag, sat on the threshold of a nearby shop, and began folding lotus flowers right on the ground.
On a quiet, deserted street, beneath the yellow glow of streetlights, a girl with loose hair sat folding paper flowers from gold sheets.
Far off in a guesthouse attic, Lin Jiaojiao—unable to sleep—looked out into the night and caught sight of her. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, then scrambled to shake her friend awake.
"Xiaodan! Xiaodan! Get up and look!"
Xu Xiaodan rubbed her eyes, still dazed with sleep, and stumbled to the window.
"Isn't that the owner of the Anshou Hall Paper Shop?" Lin Jiaojiao whispered, wide-eyed.
Xu Xiaodan's heart skipped a beat. She squinted into the night, eyes adjusting.
"…It is her! What is she doing? Crafting paper figures in the middle of the street? Is she summoning spirits? Holding a ritual for the dead?"
Lin Jiaojiao shook her head firmly. "No way. I'm telling you—she's not just some regular paper artist. She might be some kind of hidden grandmaster living in a tourist town!"