In a rented house in the Bashui District of West Capital City, Feng Xue sat in front of a desk lamp, wearing a monocle magnifier, common among jewelers and appraisers in films, making him look as if he were admiring a rare treasure.
However, he appeared more like a meticulous craftsman than an appraiser at the moment, carefully handling fragile components.
His will, thin as filaments, seeped gently into the crystal-like shell, then slowly converged inside the dice, under Feng Xue's precise control, weaving into the desired form.
An illusion of texture slowly took shape, and within that tiny, one-centimeter-square dice, a human figure gradually appeared.
At this moment, Feng Xue was like someone assembling a ship in a bottle, bit by bit inserting components and then assembling them inside.
The roar of engines outside the window, the ticking of the clocks in the room, the arguing of the neighbors upstairs, the panting from the tea and coffee shop next door...
