The sun began its initial descent. Like half a tangerine duck egg yolk, it was dissolving slowly into the navy blue sky. The sepia tone that had lost its initial temperature gleamed weakly on the surface of the planet, receding at a speed visible to human eyes. Meanwhile, on the "Pumpkin Route" where the elongated shadows of the street lamps claimed their territory, the tension was building as the time ticked away.
Even though Lin Sanjiu had repeated her question, all she got in return was silence.
With her heart suspended in her chest, she recoiled two steps back. The tug of war between Puppeteer and his squadron of puppets and the suctioning force of that painting had been in a stalemate. Neither of the parties would emerge victorious from the battle in the foreseeable future. Lin Sanjiu knew that a long delay meant many hitches; hence, to hurry the battle, she turned to the artist and yelled, "Increase the output!"
