Li Daoxuan needed to head out.
He had to find someone who could build a 1:200 architectural model.
But he wasn't at ease leaving the Diorama Box unattended.
The world inside was set in the late Ming dynasty—one moment of danger while he was away, and he might return home to find a massacre of tiny corpses.
After thinking it over, a lightbulb lit above his head.
He unmounted one of his home surveillance cameras and placed it right in front of the Diorama Box, adjusting the angle carefully.
Through the phone's app, he could now monitor the entire miniature world in real time.
Only then did he feel confident enough to leave.
He called a ride and sped off toward the home of his friend, Cai Xinzi.
Fifteen minutes later…
Li Daoxuan stood in the living room of Cai Xinzi's house.
Cai Xinzi was a businessman specializing in models—car models, ship models, collectible figurines, robots, dinosaurs… if it could be miniaturized, he made it.
So when Daoxuan had received the Diorama Box as a birthday gift days earlier, his first thought had been that Cai Xinzi was the culprit.
Seeing his old friend at the door, Cai Xinzi grinned like a fox.
"Daoxuan, long time no visit. So—what are you here to steal from me this time?"
Li Daoxuan laughed. "Not stealing this time. I'm paying. Custom order."
Cai rolled his eyes.
"Oh please. You still haven't paid me for the Liaoning aircraft carrier model you 'ordered' last time. Every time you come here, it's daylight robbery."
Without a word, Li Daoxuan took out his phone and transferred 1,000 yuan.
Cai Xinzi nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Holy crap, you paid that fast? Something's wrong. Whatever you want must be a nightmare. Nope. I refuse. I am not taking this order."
Daoxuan barked a laugh.
"You idiot—when I pay quickly, you refuse. When I don't pay, you also complain. What do you want from me?"
Cai tapped his chest solemnly.
"Business instincts."
Daoxuan spread his hands apart, indicating about half a meter.
"I want a Hakka walled house model. About this big. Scale 1:200."
Anything placed inside the Diorama Box magnified two hundredfold.
A half-meter model would become a hundred-meter fortress—perfect for a full-size Hakka enclosure.
Cai blinked.
"What do you need that for?"
Daoxuan couldn't tell the truth, so he tossed out a harmless lie.
"I watched the animated movie Big Fish & Begonia and got obsessed with Hakka architecture. Thought I'd display one at home."
"Oh. That's all?" Cai nodded. "Then why custom-build? I've got ready-made ones—100:1 scale, very imposing—"
"No." Daoxuan rejected instantly. "I want 1:200."
"I've got 1:144 too—"
"No."
"I must custom-order a 1:200."
Cai's eyelids twitched.
"I knew it. Anyone who pays so fast must be summoning a demon. Fine. What else? I bet you'll ask for insane details."
Daoxuan grinned.
"Alright, requirements. The whole fortress must be built with extremely durable materials. No thin foam boards, no flimsy plastics, and wood burns too easily. Ideally… hm, what material do you suggest?"
Cai rubbed his temples.
"Use composite pressed panels. Strong yet lightweight. That way you won't rupture a disc carrying the thing home."
Daoxuan considered it. Composite boards were strong.
But once magnified 200 times, the thickness would also multiply—and that could spell trouble.
Hold on.
He needed to check something.
"How thin can composite panels get?"
"Three millimeters," Cai answered.
Daoxuan did the mental math.
3 mm × 200 = 60 cm thick walls.
His face darkened.
A sixty-centimeter wall between rooms would shrink the interior space so drastically the fortress would end up with fewer rooms than a modern apartment.
"Can't go thinner?"
"Nope," Cai replied. "Anything thinner has to be sheet metal. Iron sheets can go down to 1 mm."
Daoxuan ran the numbers again.
1 mm × 200 = 20 cm thick iron walls.
Perfect—thick enough to be strong, thin enough to preserve interior space, and far more durable than wood.
"Alright. One-millimeter iron sheet it is."
Cai winced.
"You realize a model made of thin iron sheeting will look cheap as hell? People will think I cut corners."
"I want you to cut corners," Daoxuan said. "Also, the interior must be detailed. Every room built to scale—"
"That's impossible." Cai nearly choked. "A real Hakka house has over two hundred rooms. If I handcraft every tiny window and door so it opens and closes, do you know how many hours that is? Add ten thousand yuan!"
Daoxuan winced internally.
Ten thousand? Forget it. He'd let the villagers inside the box build their own doors and windows.
"Skip all the doors and windows," he said. "Just leave dark openings. And fix the drainage system with a modern design—the traditional Hakka system has structural flaws."
Cai almost overturned the table.
"You idiot! Who redesigns drainage for a model? And if I use modern engineering, it's not a traditional Hakka enclosure anymore! Zero collector's value!"
"I don't care. I'm the client. No matter how unreasonable my demands, you have zero right to resist."
"…"
Cai Xinzi looked like he'd aged ten years.
He muttered, "Why don't I just slap some wheels beneath it, add motors and a remote control, and turn your Hakka fortress into a tank…"
It was sarcasm.
A jab at unreasonable customers.
But the moment Li Daoxuan heard it, his eyes lit like twin suns.
He slapped his thigh.
"YES! Cai Xinzi, you genius! Do it. Wheels, motor, remote control—the whole fortress becomes an armored super-fortress! Unstoppable!"
Cai shuddered.
"I was joking! That's not a Hakka house—it's a deranged child's toy! Zero artistry! Zero value!"
Daoxuan clapped his shoulder, laughing.
"That's exactly what I want. A deranged toy. Make the wheels big—capable of light off-road terrain."
"Off-road??" Cai groaned. "Clients are insane. Since Pangu split heaven and earth, not a single sane client has ever existed."
He muttered under his breath,
"Fine—wheels, motor, remote control… add another thousand."
Daoxuan paid without blinking.
They set a one-month delivery date.
Passing the supermarket near his apartment complex, he bought a 200-gram piece of chicken breast for five yuan.
Back home, he sliced off a chunk and gently placed it into the Diorama Box.
At that moment, Gao Yiye was returning from the pond with two buckets of water balanced on a shoulder pole, wobbling slightly as she walked.
Suddenly, the sky split open.
A divine hand descended, holding a monstrous slab of meat, lowering it gently before her. Then—whoosh—it withdrew into the heavens again.
A warm, celestial voice resonated from above:
"Reminder: your bodies have been eating light, bland food for long. If you eat too much meat all at once, your stomachs won't handle it. Pace yourselves."