Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Shaping

The kitchen doorknob turned. The door swung open without a sound, and Yu Sheng stepped through with several bulging bags.

“I’m back,” he said.

Irene stared at him like her eyes had forgotten how to blink. She looked genuinely stunned. “Weren’t you out buying things? Why did you come from—”

She cut herself off, like something finally clicked.

“No way. You went shopping and used door opening to come home?”

“I thought about it,” Yu Sheng said, not even pretending to hide his smugness. “Since the door doesn’t just lead to the Otherworld and can also lead somewhere far in the real world, there’s no reason it can’t lead somewhere closer too. I tested bringing items and living creatures through it. Looks like as long as I keep the door stable, they can pass through just fine.”

At the words living creatures, Irene latched on immediately. “Living creatures? Where did you get a living creature? Where is it?”

Yu Sheng held out his hand. “I caught a mosquito before I came back.”

Irene stared at his empty palm.

Then she stared at his face.

For the first time, Miss Doll gained a whole new understanding of Yu Sheng’s creativity.

Her gaze drifted to the shopping bags.

The first thing she spotted was a whole case of eight-treasure porridge.

Yu Sheng unpacked everything and laid it out. “Lightweight clay. I bought a ton. The shop threw in some tools for free, but they’re for small dolls, so they’re probably useless for you. For making your body, we’ll need this—I bought a rolling pin.”

He pulled out more. “Hair and paint. Good stuff. Not the most expensive, but close.”

He hesitated, then glanced at her. “I couldn’t find clothes that would fit you. Do you want to—”

“No.” Irene waved it off without hesitation. Her face was already bright with excitement. “I can shape clothes myself. I told you—the body is mainly a medium. A temporary container. Wow… that’s a lot. Yu Sheng, you really put effort into this?”

“Obviously.” Yu Sheng started sorting everything into piles, then frowned. “Still, I don’t think it’s complete. I heard there are drying ovens, filler, softening oil, primer, makeup tools… all that. But everything I found was either for small dolls only, or stuff I’d definitely need more than half a day to learn.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “And there’s another issue. Clay needs time to dry. Without a drying oven, big pieces won’t harden in half a day…”

“It’s fine. None of that matters,” Irene said, so pleased her voice even softened. “As long as you can make a basic framework. What matters is the ritual part. Otherwise I’d just have you buy a ready-made doll and call it done. No need for all this trouble.”

“Good.” Yu Sheng exhaled and gathered the piles. “Then we’ll do it in the attic. It’s spacious, and there’s a big table up there.”

Irene nodded so hard her whole frame seemed to wobble. Then she noticed another bag off to the side—one that looked strangely familiar.

“…What’s the bag of lotus roots for?” she asked, baffled.

Yu Sheng froze with something in his hands. He looked at Irene. Then he looked at the lotus roots. Two seconds later, he let out an awkward laugh. “Uh… backup plan. In case my skills are too terrible. That’s how I understood it…”

Irene tilted her head and thought for a long time. Then her expression snapped into horror. “No!”

“It won’t work?” Yu Sheng sounded genuinely disappointed. “I thought the shape was perfect. I spent ages picking those.”

“Of course it won’t!” Irene looked like she was about to launch herself out of the painting on pure fury. “Listen—pre-made food is already bad enough. If you give me pre-made parts too, I’m going to have opinions!”

“Fine, fine.” Yu Sheng sighed, carried the lotus roots into the kitchen, and set them aside. “Then we’ll fry lotus root sandwiches later.”

Irene suddenly had a bad feeling. Today might not go as smoothly as she’d imagined.

Yu Sheng, on the other hand, was suddenly full of confidence. He gathered the tools and materials, tucked Irene’s frame under one arm, and reached for the kitchen doorknob.

This time, Irene reacted fast. “You’re going to the attic and you still want to open a door?”

Yu Sheng thought it over, decided that might be lazy even for him, and gave an embarrassed laugh. Then he turned and carried everything toward the stairs.

The house had a large attic above the second floor. It was called an attic, but it was more like a third level—probably because the builders had left the ceiling too high and ended up splitting off an extra floor. It was about half the size of the second floor, with two street-facing windows and a skylight. From outside, the house looked like it had three stories.

Yu Sheng rarely went up there except to clean.

The attic was almost empty. Aside from a big table—probably shoved up there because there was nowhere else to put it—there were only two old chairs that creaked whenever you breathed near them. At night or on gloomy days, when the light went thin, the emptiness could make the place feel eerie enough to scare you.

Right now, it was perfect for a workshop.

Yu Sheng made two trips, hauling more tools from the second-floor storage room, an old desk lamp, and all the strange items Irene said they needed for the ritual. He piled everything onto the table.

He set Irene’s frame at one corner, propped on a stack of old books like a makeshift stand. She watched him run back and forth, quieter than he’d ever seen her, as if she were lost in her own thoughts.

At last, Yu Sheng sat down. The chair complained beneath him as he picked up the clay and the sculpting tools, trying to get a feel for them.

“Irene,” he said.

“Hm?”

“I’m really bringing you out of this painting today,” she said softly.

“Yeah.” He tried to sound casual. “If everything goes smoothly.”

“I never thought there’d actually be a day like this.” Her voice dropped even lower. “A long time ago, I stopped hoping…”

“And now you suddenly want to get sentimental?” Yu Sheng glanced up at her, thrown by the mood.

Irene sat in her painted chair, hugging a teddy bear and rocking faintly. “Nothing. I just wanted to thank you.”

“Save the thanks for after we succeed.” Yu Sheng exhaled like he was pushing away nerves. “Tell me what the first step is.”

“Candles,” Irene said, and her expression sharpened. “One at each corner of the table. Light them. Then light one more and place it beside my frame. The most basic torso has to be finished before the candles burn out.”

With that, she guided him through shaping a container for a living doll using a pile of ordinary materials.

It was the first time she’d passed on knowledge from Alice Little House to… a human.

“Draw three concentric circles on the table. That’s your workspace. Then extend a line from each corner candle so they intersect at the center of the circles… Try to make it round. Forget it—just don’t turn it into a square.

“Write my name at the center. Ai—lin, in the Old World common script. What, you can’t? Then find a piece of paper. I’ll tell you how to write it. Do not spell it wrong.

“Also, I need your blood. Just a little. Mix it into the clay. Then mix in the tea powder and rose oil you prepared. Don’t add too much or it’ll affect forming. Put the prepared clay ball in front of me. I’ll guide the first spirit infusion.”

Irene gave instructions one by one. Yu Sheng followed them with absolute focus. A quiet, concentrated atmosphere settled over the attic. No bickering, no trash talk—only cooperation that grew smoother with every step.

…Not that smooth, really. Irene relied mostly on being broad-minded. Yu Sheng relied mostly on confidence.

The process was more exhausting than Yu Sheng expected. It wasn’t just physical fatigue—it was the kind of mental drain that left his thoughts cotton-soft.

He could feel the ritual taking hold. The arrangements he didn’t understand began moving according to patterns and forces beyond his grasp. And as an ordinary person doing this for the first time, even with most of the spirit infusion handled by Irene, he could feel a slow spiritual loss bleeding out of him.

But Irene had warned him ahead of time, so he didn’t panic. He held himself steady and forced his hands to follow her demands as precisely as he could.

Gradually, a doll body took shape.

Rough. Crude. Crooked.

The legs weren’t even the same length. One arm snapped in the middle, and he had to patch it back together with wire and water. By the end, Yu Sheng was pretty sure he had zero talent for this.

Still, they finally neared the finish line.

“You can extinguish the last candle now,” Irene said, staring at the body on the table. She’d never looked more solemn. “Then place me directly in front of it, at the head position.”

“Okay.” Yu Sheng stood and did as she said. “Then what?”

“Then I need one minute to comfort myself and strengthen my resolve…”

Yu Sheng stopped. “Why?”

Irene’s eyes went glossy, like she was on the verge of tears. “It’s too damn ugly. Even if I can reshape it later, it’s still too damn ugly right now!”