The Salted Fish's Demands and a Mortal's Bottom Line

Su Wanqing curled up on the sofa like an exquisite porcelain figurine hollowed of its soul. Ling Ye's words—"Got any dry clothes? This robe's uncomfortable to sleep in."—were like a pebble tossed into a dead pool, sending a faint ripple through her empty, dazed mind.

Sleep... uncomfortable...

Those utterly ordinary words now carried an absurdly overwhelming force, slamming viciously into her numb nerves. She stiffly shifted her eyes, focusing on the dripping, bleached, strangely styled hemp robe Ling Ye was wearing. The fabric looked unbelievably coarse, with even the edges worn and frayed. Then she looked at his bare feet, still speckled with mud and water, and the cheap enamel mug printed with a grinning yellow duck that he had casually placed on the luxurious marble coffee table...

Uncomfortable sleeping?

Su Wanqing felt as if her brain were an overloaded server, emitting a strained, unbearable hum. A being who could casually produce "old tea" that made Withered Wood Meets Spring, whose bag contained terrifying objects capable of instantly crushing her soul and understanding of reality, and whose single glance had made those clearly well-trained elites outside cough blood and flee like beaten dogs... What he cared about most right now was actually... being uncomfortable while sleeping?!

Absurd! An immense sense of absurdity surged like a tsunami, nearly drowning the last remnants of her sanity.

"C-clothes?" Su Wanqing's voice was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against something. She struggled to recover even a trace of control as the villa's owner and the president of Su Corporation, but before this man who defied all common sense, every title and bit of pride she possessed seemed so pale and laughable. "...What... what kind do you want?"

At her words, Ling Ye seemed to think seriously for a moment. He looked down and tugged at the hemp robe he was wearing, his brows drawing together slightly in distaste. "This... is too rough. It chafes." He lifted one foot and glanced at his muddy bare sole. "Shoes... preferably softer. The floor's cold."

He sounded as though he were reviewing hotel facilities, speaking with such natural certainty that it seemed self-evident.

The corner of Su Wanqing's mouth twitched uncontrollably. Too rough? It chafed? Her gaze swept over Ling Ye's hemp robe. Though the style was strange, she could somehow sense, even from a distance, a warm luster in the fabric that was difficult to describe, as though it had been mellowed by endless years... This thing chafed?!

As for the floor being cold... Her house had top-grade Italian-imported marble, all right?! The temperature-controlled underfloor heating ran twenty-four hours a day! Torrential rain was falling outside, while it was warm as spring indoors! What was cold about it?!

There were simply too many things to complain about. Su Wanqing felt her temples beginning to ache again. She drew a deep breath, trying to calm her tumultuous emotions. The warm fragrance of the tea had at least provided some comfort.

"I... I'll find you something." She practically ground the words out through her teeth. Bracing herself on her weakened legs, she stood from the sofa somewhat unsteadily. Right now, she only wanted to get farther away from this bizarre man and his even more bizarre cloth bag, even if only temporarily.

She almost fled toward the spiral staircase leading to the second floor, her steps unsteady. Ling Ye, meanwhile, paid no attention. He picked up the cartoon-duck enamel mug again and leisurely sipped the last traces of tea inside, his eyes casually sweeping over the luxurious yet cold living room as though assessing the specific cause of its being "uncomfortable to sleep in."

Su Wanqing went upstairs and returned to her spacious yet equally cold bedroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned against the heavy solid-wood panel before daring to breathe deeply. The fear and confusion she had forcibly suppressed surged back like a tide, making her body tremble slightly.

She needed to calm down! She had to calm down!

She rushed into the bathroom, turned on the cold-water faucet, and harshly splashed icy water onto her cheeks. The biting chill cleared her chaotic thoughts a little. She raised her head and looked at the pale, disheveled, terrified woman in the mirror. An overwhelming sense of grievance and helplessness instantly surged through her.

What in the world was happening?! A rainy night, a strange man knocking on her door to escape the rain, a pot of tea that made Withered Wood Meets Spring, a tattered bag containing a weapon capable of destroying the world... And those people outside who were clearly members of a special force... Her world had been completely overturned in less than an hour!

She shook her head hard, forcing herself not to think about those terrifying things. The most urgent matter was dealing with the... "immortal"? Or perhaps... "lunatic"? downstairs.

Find clothes... Find clothes...

She pulled open her enormous walk-in closet. It was packed with the latest haute couture suits, dresses, and evening gowns of the season, made from everything from top-grade cashmere and silk to high-tech synthetic fabrics. Without thinking, she reached for a brand-new men's silk pajama set—a gift from a luxury brand that she had never even opened.

Her hand stopped halfway.

That man downstairs... His hemp robe had been "too rough" for him... Would these expensive silk pajamas also be... "inferior" in his eyes? Or even... "trash"?

The thought left her inexplicably depressed and powerless. Irritated, she dragged a hand across the clothes rack, her gaze passing over row after row of garments before finally landing on a storage box in the far corner of the closet.

Inside... were several old clothes she had kept from her university days, when she had belonged to an outdoor club. Pure-cotton T-shirts, a pair of jeans washed pale, and a pair of fleece-lined slippers with soft soles that she had bought cheaply back then but that had unexpectedly turned out to be comfortable.

The materials were ordinary, the styles outdated, and some of the colors had even faded.

Su Wanqing's eyes flickered. As if possessed, she walked over, opened the box, and took out the dark-gray long-sleeved cotton T-shirt, a pair of dark-blue jeans, and the grayish soft-soled slippers.

The material... should be soft enough, right? she wondered uncertainly. They had to be softer than his hemp robe, right? And the shoes... Soft soles should satisfy his request to make them "softer," right?

She held the pile of old clothes, completely at odds with her identity as a company president, and drew a deep breath. As though carrying some kind of "tribute," she steeled herself and went back downstairs.

In the living room, Ling Ye had already set down the empty enamel mug. He stood before the enormous French windows with his back to her, watching the rain still pouring outside. His silhouette stretched long beneath the warm light. The soaked hemp robe clung to his tall, slender frame, outlining an indescribable loneliness that seemed utterly out of place in this room.

Su Wanqing's steps faltered, and her heart inexplicably skipped a beat. She shook off that strange feeling, hurried over, and carefully placed the clothes on the coffee table, keeping them as far away from the battered cloth bag as possible.

"T-these are all I have." Her voice was still tight, and she did not dare look into Ling Ye's eyes. "The new ones... might not be suitable." She gave the vague explanation.

At the sound of her voice, Ling Ye turned around. His gaze fell on the pile of old clothes on the coffee table. There was no disdain or delight on his face, only the same calm, emotionless expression. He reached out and picked up the dark-gray cotton T-shirt first, rolling the fabric between his fingers.

"Mm," he replied, revealing nothing, "They'll do." Then he picked up the jeans and rubbed them between his fingers as well. His brows seemed to relax slightly. "Better than hemp." Finally, his eyes fell on the grayish soft-soled slippers.

Su Wanqing's heart rose into her throat. Those shoes were simply too old and ordinary.

Ling Ye bent down and picked up one slipper, pressing the sole with his fingers to test its softness. Then, under Su Wanqing's nervous gaze, he naturally slid his wet, mud-stained bare foot directly into it.

"Not bad," he judged, his tone carrying the reluctant approval of something that was merely "barely acceptable." Wearing the obviously undersized old slipper, which clashed completely with his bearing, he slapped his way across the floor for two steps to test how it felt.

Su Wanqing: "..."

She watched Ling Ye wander unconcernedly around her luxurious living room in her old university T-shirt—not yet changed into—her jeans—not yet changed into either—and the clearly ill-fitting slippers. The intense, surreal absurdity overwhelmed her once more. This scene... challenged her nerves even more than the terrifying sights from before!

Just then, Ling Ye seemed to remember something. He stopped and turned to look at Su Wanqing.

"By the way," he said, pointing upstairs, "which room can I sleep in? Preferably... somewhere quiet." He paused, then added with unquestionable seriousness, "I don't like being disturbed when I sleep. Not even... a sound."

Su Wanqing met his calm, emotionless eyes, and her heart clenched violently. She instantly remembered the unlucky man who had vomited blood and passed out in the bushes outside, the screen of the detector exploding, and the terrifying pressure that had frozen the plants and souls in an instant!

He did not like being disturbed? Not even a sound?

This was no request! It was a blatant warning! A line drawn around an absolute forbidden zone!

A chill shot from the soles of Su Wanqing's feet to the top of her head. She had no doubt that if anyone dared make even the slightest noise while he slept, their fate would be ten thousand times more miserable than that blood-spitting man's!

She nodded almost immediately, her voice trembling with fear. "The... the innermost room! Next... next to my master bedroom! It's the best soundproofed! Absolutely quiet!" She even instinctively lowered her voice, as though afraid her breathing might disturb him.

Ling Ye seemed very satisfied with her understanding. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Mm."

Without another word, he bent down and picked up the pile of old clothes from the coffee table, including the battered cloth bag. Then, wearing the ill-fitting old slippers, he slapped his way toward the stairs leading to the second floor in the direction Su Wanqing had indicated.

Su Wanqing remained where she was, watching the strange-clothed figure carrying a battered bag and shuffling away in old slippers disappear around the turn of the staircase. It felt as though a burden weighing a thousand pounds had been lifted from her. Her legs went weak, and she nearly collapsed.

She gripped the sofa armrest and gasped for breath. Cold sweat had already soaked through the back of her lounge clothes.

This rainy night... was far from over. And she seemed to have been forced to live under the same roof as this walking natural disaster.

Outside the villa, the torrential rain continued.

About one kilometer from the entrance to the villa complex, three black off-road vehicles crouched in a hidden mountain hollow like lurking steel beasts.

Inside the modified command vehicle in the middle, the atmosphere was so heavy it seemed almost liquid. The screen repeatedly played the last few chaotic seconds of footage urgently transmitted by the "Hawk" team—the snowy image of the detector overloading and melting down, along with Hawkeye's agonized, twisted face before he vomited blood and passed out. Though the signal had been severely disrupted at the final moment and the image was blurred, that fleeting glimpse of terrifying pressure still suffocated everyone inside the command vehicle, even through the screen.

"How is Hawkeye?" asked a middle-aged man in black combat gear. His shoulder bore no insignia, and his face was stern and cold. He was the commander of Dragon Tooth, codename Thunderstorm.

"Reporting, Commander! Hawkeye is in a deep coma. His vital signs are temporarily stable, but his brain waves are extremely chaotic, as if he suffered... severe damage on the level of the soul!" The medic's voice trembled with incredulity. "The other three team members suffered powerful mental shocks, showing varying degrees of disorientation and loss of bodily control. They require psychological intervention! Our preliminary assessment is... some kind of incomprehensible, ultra-high-intensity mental pressure attack! Their willpower defenses were destroyed instantly!"

Thunderstorm's fist clenched hard, his knuckles cracking. Merely one involuntary, unconscious leak of energy had crippled the most elite infiltration team under his command?! This was no longer Planetary-level... The threat assessment had to be raised!

"What about the target?" His voice was cold as ice.

"The target... returned to the villa, after which the energy field returned to a 'mild' state. Its intensity... still exceeds the detector's upper limit. Satellite surveillance shows the target entering a room on the west side of the second floor. The energy field is stable... but..." The technician monitoring the situation hesitated.

"Speak!"

"But after the target entered the room... every infrasound, low-frequency vibration, and passive infrared thermal-sensing array we had set up within a one-kilometer radius of the villa... all of them... went offline." The technician swallowed with difficulty. "They weren't destroyed. They... disappeared. The signals were completely severed, as though erased by an invisible force. We tried to reactivate them... but failed."

The command vehicle fell into complete silence.

He did not like being disturbed... Not even a sound...

The promise Su Wanqing had made in utter terror flashed through Thunderstorm's mind. This was no request! It was a line drawn around an absolute forbidden zone! A declaration! Any form of spying—even passive detection that should theoretically be impossible to notice—would be considered "disturbing him" and invite annihilating erasure!

An unprecedented chill enveloped the command vehicle.

"Pass on my order!" Thunderstorm's voice was decisive, carrying ruthless authority. "All units! Fall back! Immediately withdraw beyond the three-kilometer security line! Shut down all active and passive detection equipment! Maintain radio silence! Keep only the minimum level of long-range optical observation! Repeat! Detection of any kind is absolutely prohibited! Anyone who disobeys... will be dealt with under military law!"

The order was rapidly relayed. The three black off-road vehicles started their engines like startled leopards, silently and orderly backing away with all their lights off before merging into the deeper darkness of the rainy night. Only faint tracks left by their tires in the mud remained behind.

Thunderstorm sat in the command vehicle, staring through the one-way window at the brightly lit villa halfway up the mountain in the distant downpour. His eyes were sharp as blades, filled with unprecedented gravity and a trace of... indescribable awe.

"Planetary-level... No... Perhaps... Stellar Level..." he muttered, his voice drowned out by the low rumble of the off-road vehicle's engine.

On the second floor of the villa, inside the designated guest room.

Ling Ye casually tossed the battered cloth bag onto the soft carpet. He picked up the old T-shirt and jeans Su Wanqing had given him and looked them over, then glanced disdainfully at the Simmons mattress, which looked excessively soft and springy.

"Tsk. Too soft," he muttered.

Then, in the empty room, he casually undid the tie of the soaked hemp robe he was wearing. The robe slipped down, revealing... nothing underneath.

There were no knotted muscles or fearsome scars as one might have imagined. There was only a tall, well-proportioned body, its smooth lines flowing like those of a perfect sculpture. His skin possessed the warm, restrained luster of jade, seemingly containing endless vitality and power, yet also resembling the deepest chaos, softly absorbing every ray of light without revealing the slightest trace. Billions of years of primordial time seemed to have left no mark on him. There was only a perfection refined to the extreme, a return to simplicity.

He casually tossed the priceless primordial hemp robe into the corner of the room as though it were a torn rag. Then he pulled on the ordinary old cotton T-shirt and put on the jeans washed pale with use. The utterly mundane modern clothes somehow took on an indescribable, restrained, profound aura when worn by him, as though coarse pottery held priceless nectar.

Finally, he walked to the excessively soft bed and looked at the thick mattress and fluffy down comforter. His brows furrowed again.

Uncomfortable sleeping... Too soft...

Barefoot—the old slippers had been kicked aside—he walked to the center of the room. His gaze swept across the empty floor before finally landing on the battered cloth bag thrown onto the carpet.