The efficiency of the paper men was astounding—so much so that, compared to their swift execution of duties, many modern institutions ought to disband in shame.
Within a mere ten minutes, the entire wedding ceremony had commenced. Dressed in resplendent red robes, Nono and Princess Nana were already performing the traditional bows of matrimony, after which they would be escorted—no, delivered—to their bridal chamber.
"A joyous occasion! A most splendid celebration!" Chen Mo exclaimed with mock sincerity, casting a glance at the despondent mobile phone and then at the bashfully blushing Princess Nana. "Brothers, look! Nono is so overwhelmed with happiness that he weeps tears of joy. Is this not a moment worthy of eternal remembrance?"
"Joy, my foot! Eternal remembrance, my ass!" Nono wailed to the heavens, tears streaming down his cheeks, cursing his lack of a middle finger to adequately express his gratitude to his unscrupulous companions.
But the candy figurine princess evidently saw things differently. Clinging tenderly to her new husband, she cooed, "My lord, I shall be the most virtuous of wives, diligent in the ways of the household, and shall soon bear heirs for the Nuo family…"
"Excellent. Powerful," muttered Chen Mo, his facial muscles twitching at the mental image of the princess entering with little Nono in her arms.
"Nono, don't forget," he said as he stepped on the phone, which attempted to make a run for it. With a mischievous grin, he nodded and recited, "When life is hard, think of Saddam; when things go wrong, think of Clinton. Just consider this your sacrifice to the great cause of socialism!"
And thus, with these profound words echoing through the air, the newlyweds were ushered into their chamber—a love story perhaps unmatched in its sheer implausibility.
Taking advantage of the jubilant chaos, Chen Mo seized the opportunity to pull aside the puppet general, who was just about to retreat with his troops, and inquired about the strange phenomena occurring in the exhibition hall.
Now that they were on the same side, the puppet general was forthcoming, recounting everything he knew in meticulous detail.
According to his account, this bizarre transformation in the art exhibition area had persisted for decades. Each night, the lifeless exhibits would spring to life—even painted figures would step out of their scrolls. Over time, these occurrences had given rise to what was now known as the Eastern Beam Kingdom.
The kingdom was composed primarily of paper figures, clay figurines, and puppets, with Princess Nana reigning as sovereign. Naturally, Nono, now her consort, had also joined the royal court.
"However, we do not know why these changes occur," the general admitted when Chen Mo pressed him further, his face clouded with uncertainty.
Chen Mo frowned. That drunken old man who had hired him hadn't mentioned anything about supernatural phenomena of this sort.
It defied easy explanation—exhibit after exhibit gaining sentience, behaving no differently from ordinary living beings.
His question was quickly answered. From the bridal chamber came Nono's exasperated voice: "Of course they came to life! If we can become demons, why shouldn't clay and puppets do the same?"
"Oh? You mean to say…" That offhand remark made Chen Mo fall into a thoughtful silence.
Indeed, the phenomenon of animated puppets bore a striking resemblance to the way appliances turned into spirits—it was as if they had spontaneously acquired life. And to instill life in the inanimate… only one kind of power could do that…
"Come with me!" With a sudden clap of his hands, Chen Mo saluted the puppet general and jumped into his cart, speeding away.
Benben and Guoguo exchanged a knowing glance and, without a word, chose to abandon Nono to his fate, wobbling as they followed in hot pursuit.
Watching the blushing princess approach, Nono could only cry out in horror, "Wait! You're all leaving me here? What am I supposed to do?!"
"You stay. As they say, a night of spring passion is worth a thousand gold pieces!" With those words still echoing through the hall, the electric cart vanished into the distance.
Princess Nana turned her head in confusion, then smiled with hopeful anticipation as she hugged her beloved.
At that moment, Nono looked at his newlywed wife, tears flowing freely as he whimpered, "No! I won't forsake the entire forest for a single tree—hey, wait! We can talk without removing clothes! Help! Help! Come closer and I'll scream!"
Setting aside Nono's tragic wedding night, Chen Mo sped through the museum, eyes closed, letting the faint aura of shattered jade guide him.
As he followed the winding paths through multiple exhibit halls, the sensation grew increasingly distinct.
Along the way, he began to witness the eerie transformations that had taken place—stone lions wrestling on the floor, suits of armor brandishing swords at nothing in particular, and most absurdly, several Peking men sipping water near the restroom.
"I swear I've seen this before," Chen Mo muttered, scratching his head as a mammoth skeleton strolled past.
Before the words had even left his lips, Benben shuddered and quickly opened the video player—within seconds, the screen displayed a scene from the American film Night at the Museum.
"What the—! It really is that movie?" Chen Mo blinked in disbelief, glancing between the screen and the bizarre reality before him, his mind spinning.
Was it reality imitating fiction, or had fiction been born from reality? It no longer mattered. What did matter was this: if he couldn't restore the exhibits, how was he supposed to explain it to that old man?
Would he really have to sell his house, his land, his body, and his art to make reparations, as he'd joked with Sister Rong earlier…?
Wait—!
Suddenly remembering something urgent, Chen Mo slammed on the brakes, glancing back thoughtfully.
At that very moment, Benben hesitated. "Boss, if everything here has come alive… then what about Sister Rong and Little Three…?"
"Shit!" Without waiting for the rest, the cart veered abruptly and burst through a hole in the wall.
As the wind howled in his ears, Chen Mo cursed the gods for not making him faster. "Damn it. I just hope that pighead still has an ounce of demon instinct left. Don't tell me he's being taken down by a few Terracotta Warriors…"
BOOM! The cart crashed through a wall and roared into the Pre-Qin History Exhibit.
Before he could even open his eyes amid the swirling dust, he heard a familiar, blood-curdling scream in the distance: "Help! Help! Help!"
He knew that voice. He didn't even need to look—Pighead Three was crying out in heartfelt despair.
Seconds later, when the smoke cleared and Chen Mo could finally see, he was struck dumb.
In the Terracotta Warrior exhibit, poor Pighead Three was tied to a roasting rack, screaming in terror.
From the wood piled beneath him, it was clear that one spark would be all it took to serve up a sizzling roast suckling pig…
Luckily, the warriors were still in the preparation phase.
Some were holding bottles of seasoning Sister Rong had left behind, brushing Pighead Three curiously. A tall leader among them was unsheathing a sword and scanning the area for fire-starting materials.
The moment they saw the newcomers, the warriors exchanged glances and, as one, picked up their weapons and began to advance slowly.
"Wait… even replicas can come to life?" Chen Mo took a few steps back in astonishment. Suddenly, he was glad this wasn't the Shaanxi Museum—otherwise, he'd be dead by now.
Just then, the warrior leader furrowed his brow and spoke in an oddly accented voice: "Who are you?"
"What the—!" Chen Mo rolled his eyes, nearly coughing up blood.
Even with his poor English, he understood that phrase… but seriously? Why the hell were the Terracotta Warriors speaking English? Were they preparing for a college exam?
"Boss!" Benben quickly searched the internet behind him. "Look at this news article… turns out these replicas were commissioned by the South City municipal government from a British company. It even caused public outrage at the time."
"Unbelievable! Worshipping foreigners to this extent?" Chen Mo blinked in disbelief. "These days, foreign monks really do chant the best scriptures… even Terracotta Warriors need to be outsourced?"
But there was no time to dwell on that. As the warriors launched into a chorus of English phrases, Chen Mo could only turn to the rear and sigh. "My English sucks. Nono, you—huh?"
He froze for a second, then remembered—language prodigy Nono was currently enjoying his honeymoon.
Just then, Guoguo leapt forward confidently. "Boss, I got this. I'll talk to them!"
"Really?" Chen Mo looked at the rice cooker suspiciously. It couldn't even speak Mandarin properly—how could it possibly speak English?
"Average, average. World's third best!" Guoguo beamed. "My English may not be perfect, but it's enough to deal with these knock-offs. Horse horse tiger tiger!"
"What?" Chen Mo was baffled. "Is that some advanced idiom?"
"Idiot!" Guoguo huffed. "It means 'so-so!'"
"Damn it!" If Chen Mo hadn't been leaning on a pillar, he would've collapsed.
As he wept in despair, Guoguo proudly waddled up to the Terracotta Warriors and unleashed a torrent of broken Chinglish.
Within seconds, the warriors were in tears. They recognized each individual word, but strung together… it was utter gibberish.
"What? You looking down on me?" Oblivious to the issue, Guoguo repeated his words slowly and clearly.
It only made things worse. One warrior clutched his sword, seemingly ready to slay the rice cooker on the spot.
"Shit! They're getting fired up!" Chen Mo winced as Guoguo snapped, "You guys should've studied harder! How can you not understand such standard English?"
"What are you staring at? I'm talking to you! You wanna scare me? As far as you go to die, who's afraid of whom?!"