As soon as the green light fragment in the tool bag stopped, Chen Hao reached in and took it out.
He stared at the stone, its surface still damp from the underground mineral layer, and felt slightly cool to the touch. The jolt he'd felt earlier felt like a heartbeat, but not quite; it wasn't his imagination. Without giving it much thought, he placed the stone on the workbench and picked up a charcoal pencil to redraw the fox's outline on the cardboard.
"Pierce up the ears a bit more," he muttered to himself. "The eyes need to be bright, not like that tin box I dreamt about last night."
Nana stood beside him, her optical glasses scanning his palm: "The wound is untreated, increasing the risk of blood contamination."
"It's nothing." Chen Hao wiped the cracks on his palm with his sleeve. "We'll talk about it after I finish this job."
He took a metal chisel from the tool rack and picked up a whetstone. He pressed the chisel tip against the edge of the ore and pushed hard, leaving only a white mark. He frowned, tried again with more force, but his hand slipped, the chisel went astray, grazed his hand, and he gasped in pain.
"The hardness test result is 7.8 on the Mohs scale," Nana said. "Ordinary hand tools are 89 percent less efficient than expected."
"Shut up." Chen Hao waved his hand. "If I had listened to your advice, I would have cut a block with a cutting machine to use as a lamp."
He changed his posture, stepping on the wooden box on the edge of the table with his left foot, using the leverage to press down on his wrist. This time, the chisel finally bit into the ore, breaking off a small piece. He grinned and continued to push forward, but after carving only half an arc, the chisel got stuck again and wouldn't move.
“The material has an uneven internal structure,” Nana added. “Local brittle areas are prone to fracture.”
“I know it has a strange temper.” Chen Hao took a breath. “It’s not like I’m dealing with broken rocks for the first time.”
He stopped, turned the ore around, and found a relatively flat surface to start again. This time, he used a small hammer to gently tap the end of the chisel, peeling away small pieces one by one. The progress was as slow as a snail's pace, but he didn't stop. With each tap, his arm trembled, and blood seeped from the cracks in his hand, mingling with sweat and dripping onto the work surface.
Ten minutes later, the outline of the fox's head appeared, crooked and twisted, like a stomped-on bun. He leaned back, squinted at it, and then leaned closer to compare it with the picture on the cardboard.
“The proportions are off,” he said. “The face is too long, like a donkey.”
“The current shape recognition accuracy is 36 percent,” Nana said. “We suggest adjusting the ear position to improve the recognition accuracy.”
"Stop analyzing," Chen Hao said, wiping his face. "This is art, not a data report."
He wrapped the cloth strip around his hand again and continued carving the eye socket. This spot needed to be dug deep, but not through; the slightest deviation would ruin the entire piece of ore. He held his breath, grinding down little by little, his fingers trembling but he dared not stop. Suddenly, with a "crack," a piece broke off from the edge of his right ear.
He froze, reached out and touched the notch, but instead of cursing, he chuckled: "Rolled ears, only wild foxes do that."
“Structural damage has been documented,” Nana said. “If used as a suspension component, the load-bearing capacity is reduced by 22 percent.”
“I won’t hang it on the wall, I’ll put it on the table,” he muttered. “It can also serve as a decorative piece.”
He clamped the ore into the vise, freeing his hands. This time, he used a whetstone to slowly trim the edges, blowing away the powder as he went. Time passed, and his wrists began to ache, his shoulders stiffened. He switched hands, but he didn't control the pressure well, and the whetstone slipped, leaving a deep scratch on the fox's nose.
"It's over." He looked at the ditch. "I'm disfigured."
“It can be defined as ‘battle scars’,” Nana said. “In some cultures, it is seen as a symbol of bravery.”
"You're quite good at making excuses." He rolled his eyes. "If I were to actually send it to the battlefield, the enemy would laugh themselves to death first."
He didn't give up. He followed the scratch to modify the bridge of the nose and moved the mouth down a little. The more he modified it, the better it went. Although it was still ugly, it finally looked a bit more alive. He stopped and looked at it, thinking that the fox now resembled a hothead who always wanted to fight but couldn't win.
"Alright," he said. "That's the look I'm looking for."
As dusk fell, the lights in the warehouse were still on, but they didn't reach the corners of the workbench. He looked up at the overhead light and noticed that the light was slanting down, blocking his own head and casting a shadow entirely on the ore.
"I can't see it." He slammed his hand on the table. "Could you turn the light up a bit?"
Nana raised her robotic arm and adjusted the overhead lighting module by fifteen degrees. A soft beam of light fell, landing perfectly on the surface of the ore.
"Thank you." Chen Hao nodded. "Now I can see clearly whether the ear is crooked or not."
He continued carving the limbs. This part was even more difficult; the space was too small, and he couldn't fit his fingers in, so he had to rely on groping. He simply took the ore out of the vise, clamped it firmly with his leg, and painstakingly worked out the details with one hand. Sweat streamed down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging them so much that he blinked repeatedly, but he didn't have time to wipe them away.
An hour later, the fox tucked its front paws in, curled its hind legs under its body, and wrapped its tail around its base, barely managing to stand upright. He released his grip, blew the dust off the ore, revealing a rough carving with a tilted head, a grinning mouth, and slightly upturned ears.
“Ugly,” he commented, “but it’s somewhat presentable.”
He put down the polishing stone, cracked his wrists. The cloth strip on his palm was soaked through; when he peeled it off, it was covered in a mixture of blood and sweat.
"The probability of infection is still within a controllable range." Nana handed over a bottle of ointment.
"I'll paint it later." He picked up the cardboard for reference. "The eyes need to be dug deeper, otherwise the light won't be bright enough at night."
Just as he was about to resume work, Nana suddenly said, "Your heart rate is 20 degrees higher than normal."
"No job is ever easy," he said, catching his breath. "I'm not a robot, so what if my heart beats a little faster?"
"The muscle fatigue index has reached a critical point, and continuing to work may result in permanent hand damage."
"Don't scare me." He smiled. "I've practiced this by copying answers by hand, so it's very durable."
Just as he reached for the chisel, his arm suddenly twitched, and his entire right arm went numb and he couldn't lift it. He gritted his teeth and braced himself against the edge of the table, taking a few seconds to recover.
"I need to rest," Nana said.
"Just the last bit left." He shook his head. "The eye socket area has to be taken care of tonight."
He switched to holding the tool with his left hand, his movements noticeably slower, but he persisted, grinding away bit by bit. Each cut was laborious, his fingers trembling violently, but he didn't stop. Finally, at dawn, the fox's eye sockets were complete, uniform in size and depth.
He put down his tools, leaned back, and slumped into the chair.
“It’s done.” He stared at the ore. “It’s a bit ugly… but it was made by ‘me’.”
Nana didn't say anything, but simply turned off the red dot on the recorder and slightly narrowed the optical lens.
Chen Hao sat for a while, then reached out and stroked the fox's head, before touching his own forehead; his hands were covered in sweat. He unbuttoned his coat, preparing to stand up and get some water, but as soon as he stood up, his knees buckled, and he almost knelt down.
"Hypoglycemia." Nana held his arm. "He hasn't eaten for seven hours."
"I forgot." He smiled wryly. "I forget to eat when I get busy."
He steadied himself by holding onto the edge of the table, and was about to say he was going to get the canned food when he suddenly saw a glint of green light flash in the ore's eyes.
It was very short, just a moment, like a breath.
He froze, then leaned closer to take a look.
The surface of the ore remained calm, without vibration or heat. He reached out and touched it; the temperature was normal.
"Just now...did it light up for a second?" he asked.
Nana pulled up the surveillance playback footage and slowly played the last minute of the data stream.
The image freezes at a certain moment—deep in the groove of the ore's right eye, a faint green light flashes for 0.3 seconds before disappearing.
“An unusual energy fluctuation was detected,” she said. “The frequency is consistent with the previous debris vibrations.”
Chen Hao didn't move, staring at the stone.
Then he slowly sat down and picked up the polishing stone again.
“One more time,” he said. “Make the eyes rounder.”
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