The clone extended his hands over the blue flames inside the aperture, shivering as he said to Yi Yi, “Really, this is something I do all the time. When researching and collecting a civilization’s art, I always lodge my consciousness inside a member organism of that civilization, to ensure my complete understanding of the art.”

The flames inside the incinerator’s aperture suddenly flared. The plane surrounding it roiled with multicolored light as well, so that Yi Yi felt as if the entire plane were a sheet of frosted glass floating on a sea of fire.

“The incinerator has turned into a fabricator,” Bigtooth whispered to Yi Yi. “The god is performing energy-matter exchange.” Seeing Yi Yi’s continued puzzlement, he explained again, “Idiot, he’s making objects out of pure energy, the handicraft of a god!”

Suddenly, a white mass burst from the fabricator, unfurling in midair as it fell—clothing, which the clone caught and put on. Yi Yi saw that it was a loose, flowing Tang Dynasty robe, made of snow-white silk and trimmed with a wide band of black. The clone, who had appeared so pitiable earlier, looked like an ethereal sage with it on. Yi Yi couldn’t imagine how it had been made from the blue flames.

The fabricator completed another object. Something black flew from the aperture and thudded onto the plane like a rock. Yi Yi ran over and picked it up. He might not trust his eyes, but his hand clearly registered a heavy inkstone, icy cold at that. Something else smacked onto the plane; Yi Yi picked up a black rod. No doubt about it—it was an inkstick! Next came several brush pens, a brush holder, a sheet of snow-white mulberry paper (paper, out of the flames!), and several little decorative antiques. The last object out was also the largest: an old-fashioned writing desk! Yi Yi and Bigtooth hurriedly righted the desk and arranged the other objects on top of it.

“The amount of energy he converted into these objects could have pulverized a planet,” Bigtooth whispered to Yi Yi, his voice shaking slightly.

The clone walked over to the desk, nodding in satisfaction when he saw the arrangement on it. One hand stroked his newly dry beard. He said, “I, Li Bai.”

Yi Yi examined the clone. “Do you mean you want to become Li Bai, or do you really think you’re Li Bai?”

“I’m Li Bai, pure and simple. A Li Bai to surpass Li Bai!”

Yi Yi laughed and shook his head.

“What, do you question me even now?”

Yi Yi nodded. “I concede that your technology far exceeds my understanding. It’s indistinguishable from human ideas of magic and acts of God. Even in the fields of art and poetry, you’ve astonished me. Despite such an enormous cultural, spatial, and temporal gap, you’ve managed to sense the hidden nuances of Classical Chinese poetry…. But understanding Li Bai is one matter, and exceeding him is another. I continue to believe that you face an unsurpassable body of art.”