However, it soon became apparent that this was not the case...
Because the puppet on the bed is actually dead.
The old man lifted the quilt, and the little boy's hands and feet had turned into dry branches. The gray-brown bark had replaced most of his skin, and only the abdomen and above still barely kept his human appearance.
This process is called "withering", which means the death of the puppet.
Is this dead
He was a little surprised when he heard it.
He clearly remembered that he didn't penetrate the little boy's heart and wouldn't kill him, so why did he suddenly wither
But he instantly understood that this scene was not a follow-up to his injury to the child, but something that happened in reality.
It has always remained in the memory of the old man, and it is very impressive. What happened in the cage was somewhat similar to the past, so this scene jumped out.
This is not fiction, but the past.
The little boy on the bed closed his eyes, nestled in the quilt, lifeless. The rough bark is still slowly spreading, like smudged ink, but the skin is getting less and less.
After a while, the traces of withering spread to the front chest.
The imprint on his heart was white, like a rotting spot on a branch, still indistinguishable.
He stared at the mark when he smelled it, frowning slightly.
Suddenly he heard someone speak in a deep voice and asked him, "What's wrong?"
He suddenly regained his senses, and when he turned around, he saw Xie Wen approaching.
The space inside the mirror is very strange. It corresponds to the outside of the mirror. There is also a desk and a window sill, but they are all blurry, like a white fog covering them.
Xie Wen leaned against the desk and stood in the fog.
He still had the branches that were broken when he entered the cage in his hand, and he couldn't throw them away for the time being.
"Why are you here?" Wen Shi said, the voice in the mirror was also very faint, and it couldn't reach the outside unless it was improved.
"I can't come?" Xie Wen even seemed very surprised, and returned to his usual expression in the next second: "Everything always comes first, why don't we take a look at whoever occupies the mirror site first?"
"… "
How old are you, who is going to move the ground with you
He ignored him when he smelled it, glanced at him and looked away.
After a while, he suddenly said, "Do you know withering?"
"Huh?" Xie Wen straightened up and walked over, glanced at the little boy on the bed, and instantly understood, "Oh, of course I know."
He looked at him suspiciously.
"What is your expression, I shouldn't know?" Xie asked.
"no."
You should know, but it shouldn't be this look.
The "withering" of normal puppets is instantaneous, one second is still alive, the next second it falls to the ground and turns into white cotton threads with dead branches and leaves.
Slowly withering like this means that the level of people who make this puppet is extremely high, which is rare in the world.
This kind of puppet, let alone ordinary people, has not even been seen by many judges, especially the judges of later generations. At first glance, ordinary people do not realize that this is a process of "withering", but instead think that something else has gone wrong with the little boy.
So Xie asked with a calm tone and answered so quickly, but it was strange.
However, he quickly understood Wen Shi's doubts and explained: "The Zhang family has a lot of books. I am a half-assed level, and I have to read more in the books if I can't see it in reality. To avoid being ignorant and embarrassing-"
Xie Wen smiled and said, "I want to save face, especially in front of younger people."
When smelling: "… "
If this is said from an old man's mouth, it can still be heard.
Xie Wen looked only at the age of twenty-eight or nine, and in terms of skin appearance, he was two or three years older than Wen Shi, and it would be a bit nondescript to say this.
not to mention…
Do you know how old I am
When he smelled it, his face was sullen, and he said in his heart that he knew that you were crying.
***
The old man couldn't hear the human voice in the mirror, and his whole mind was on the puppet.
He stretched out his hand to straighten the little boy's hair, sat silently for a while, then picked up the bowl of incense ash, squeezed it with his fingers, and rubbed it on the little boy's withered hands and feet.
He smeared a thick layer on the palms, soles of feet, and navels, and dug a little with his index finger, like a dragonfly, on the corner of the little boy's right eye, the tip of his nose, and finally the mouth of the left heart. The three points just connected to form a line.
Seeing this, Wen Shi was already full of surprise.
Because he understood the old man's actions - this is not some simple way to save people, this is to cross the spirit.
It is to forcibly strip a little from his own spiritual phase, and lead it into the body of the puppet to prolong the life of the puppet. This is a method in puppetry, but almost no one uses it.
As a result, the puppets that can survive are all "withered" slowly. Based on this alone, it is destined that most people will not use them at all.
Second, even if you really encounter such a puppet, no one will do it. After all, if the puppet disappears, you can make a new one, but people can't.
This well-recognized technique of "no use for farts" was actually abandoned long ago, and I only knew a thing or two when I heard it, and told it to my later disciples as a small talk.
Where did this old man know about it, and he flipped through the book like Xie Wen did
I feel more and more wrong when I smell it...
The old man was still busy on his own. He dug out a small black box from the bedside table. Inside the box was a row of carved wooden knives of different sizes.
He picked one of them, lowered his head and made a slash on his index finger.
There was a sudden gasp from the crevice of the wardrobe. It was estimated that Xia Qiao was a little unbearable when he saw the old man cutting his hands.
The blood instantly condensed into beads and slid down the fingers. The old man hurriedly moved in front of the little boy, still dripping a drop on the corner of his right eye, the tip of his nose, and the mouth of his left heart.
And then... his index finger rested on the little boy's lips.
This is the last step of Duling, to let the blood of Duling people enter the mouth of the puppet.
If you swallow it, the puppet will open her eyes again. If you can't swallow it, your previous efforts will be forfeited, and the lost spiritual aspect will not come back.
The old man did not hesitate, he squeezed his fingers, and the first drop of blood fell into the little boy's mouth.
The smudge of blush quickly seeped into the gap between his lips, and the next second, the little boy suddenly twitched.
The old man's body tensed up a little, and he could see that he was expecting and nervous.
But the smell in the mirror knew that this trick would not be successful.
Because the person who made this puppet at the beginning was too strong, in comparison, the old man was just an ordinary puppet master, and at best he was considered a leader among ordinary puppet masters.
The disparity between the two is too great, and there is no obstacle involved. Whether the old man's spirit or blood has little effect on this puppet, it cannot be saved.
Sure enough, the little boy didn't swallow the blood or open his eyes. Instead, he struggled fiercely, like an uncontrollable evil spirit.
The old man sighed.
With just a drop of blood, he was a little older than before, and his fingers were even more withered and thinner.
"Does it hurt? Bear with it, bear with it, bear with it." The old man's voice was slow and gentle as he grabbed the little boy's hand and comforted him.
After a long time, the little boy stopped, still looking dead.
The old man sat for a while, as if he had walked a long way, and had to take a breath.
After a while, he stretched out his hand again and dripped a second drop of blood on the little boy's lips.
The little boy still didn't swallow, and struggled violently again, his withered fingers rubbed the old man's scalp several times, a little slower, he could nail it down the scalp, but the old man still coaxed: "Be patient, endure, endure. Just bear with it, ah."
Not long after, the little boy fell back into the quilt, still full of death.
And the old man is older.
He still sat for a while, tucked the child's quilt, and then dripped a third drop of blood.
Then came the fourth drop.
Fifth drop.
…
He never thought that he would do nothing and stand quietly in a cage for so long. In fact, it was the best time to release the cage at this time, but he somehow didn't want to interrupt the old man.
He looked at the other party getting older and thinner, and suddenly found a familiar feeling.
The days and nights in the cage are still very fast, and it is not a normal time.
When the old man didn't know how many drops of blood he squeezed out, the mark on the left heart of the little boy suddenly had a tinge of blood, like a dead tree in spring.
He was still struggling, and under the old man's momentary daze, his fingers like dead branches scratched his eyes.
Fortunately, the old man grabbed it in time and didn't let him scratch other places.
After a long time, the little boy's throat moved and swallowed the drop of blood.
The gray-brown like a dead tree slowly faded from him, his hands and feet finally felt sensual, and his skin was no longer pale and gray.
The old man's character should be quiet, or he should sit by the bed and silently watch his day and night efforts slowly turn into a result.
He didn't move, only his hands were shaking. I don't know if he was too happy or too surprised, or maybe... a little sad. Older people are often like this. When they are happy to the extreme, they become a little sad for no reason.
When the little boy opened his eyes, his eyes were still a little empty, but maybe he had died once and swallowed the blood of the old man, and it seemed that there was something else...
In short, there is a trace of human breath.
He blinked, the tone still did not fluctuate much, but the first sentence was: "Grandpa."
"Hey." The old man tucked the quilt and said slowly, "Grandpa is here."
"Why am I lying down and can't move?" He seemed to have forgotten a lot of things, like a newborn child, and asked blankly.
The old man said, "I'm sick."
"My doll seems to be alive."
"It was a nightmare," the old man explained patiently.
"I'm afraid." The little boy said, his fingers clenched spasmodically again, as if he was about to do something dangerous in the next second.
But the old man smoothed his fingers and said, "You can cry if you are afraid, and you can tell Grandpa that I am with you."
"My eyes hurt a little." The little boy blinked his right eye.
There was a bloody mouth where he struggled and scratched.
"Grandpa is old. When he carried you to the bed, he accidentally knocked."
As the old man said, he took out a towel from the basin of hot water and wringed it dry, and wiped the little boy's face little by little.
Wen Shi looked at the old man for a long time, and saw a familiar burn on his elbow when he picked up his sleeve.
He turned his gaze back to the little boy again.
Watching the mark on the child's heart become lighter, almost nothing, watching the incense ash and blood drop on the tip of his nose fade away, and watching the addition of a small mole, watching the scratch on the corner of his eye quickly form a scar.
…
Exactly the same as Xia Qiao.
The door of the wardrobe was blown open again by the wind, revealing the wide eyes of the doll, and the white light shining on the glass beads, as if crying.
"Will you not want me when you're sick?" the little boy asked.
"No." The old man said, "I have a predestined relationship with you and want to see you grow up."