In a dusty attic filled with forgotten toys, there was a box full of neglected playthings. Each year, more toys joined the ranks of the abandoned. Among them was Qi Rong, a ball-jointed toy with intricate details and a mischievous face.

Once, Qi Rong was a favourite, a treasured companion for a week or two. But like all toys, he was eventually tossed aside. Every night, Qi Rong stared through a crack in the box, listening to the muffled sounds of life below—the arguments and lonely cries of his owner.

In the box, Qi Rong’s resentment grew. He remembered the days when he was an imaginary friend, sharing secrets and adventures. But now, he was buried under other forgotten toys, lost and lonely.

Years passed, and Qi Rong’s anger festered. He was no longer the cheerful companion he once was. Instead, he became crass and vulgar, his mind filled with bitter laughter.

One night, as the house lay silent, a strange energy filled the attic. Qi Rong felt a sudden jolt. His joints, stiff from years of disuse, began to move. Slowly, he pushed open the lid of the box and climbed out, his form growing larger and more human-like while still retaining his ball-jointed features. His painted eyes glinted with a newfound malevolence as he looked around the attic.

His ball-jointed limbs made soft clacks as he moved around. He didn't breathe or feel in the human sense, but the emotions of betrayal and neglect as a toy consumed him.

With a flick of his braided hair, Qi Rong yanked down the attic’s curtain and wrapped it around himself. He navigated to his former owner’s room, and with a soft creak, he entered the dimly lit space

A twisted smile formed on his face as he reached out with a delicate, jointed hand. He gently touched the edge of the blanket, feeling the fabric beneath his fingers

Leaning closer, Qi Rong whispered, his voice a blend of mockery and longing, “You thought you could forget me, didn’t you?”