Absolute "stillness."
It wasn't silence in the physical sense, but a deeper, more fundamental kind of "stillness." It was as though, with the room on the second floor as its center, time itself had been dragged to a halt by some invisible force, while space had solidified into a piece of clear yet unyielding amber. The torrential rain outside had been pushed to the distant horizon, blurred until only a dull background of white noise remained. Inside the villa, the hum of the refrigerator compressor, the ticking of the clock hands, even the irregular Brownian motion of the air molecules themselves... Every kind of "movement" had been suppressed and erased by an indescribably heavy force, ultimately sinking into a heart-stopping, almost vacuum-like dead silence.
Su Wanqing curled up on the sofa in the living room on the first floor, like a statue forgotten inside an ice cavern. She had held that position for so long that she had no idea how much time had passed. Her legs had long since gone numb, her loungewear, soaked through with cold sweat, clinging to the expensive leather sofa and bringing wave after wave of sticky chill. But she didn't dare move. She didn't even dare breathe too hard.
The substantial-seeming "quiet" spreading down from the second floor wrapped around her like an icy tide, seeping into every pore. Every faint heartbeat and every involuntary swallow sounded as clear and jarring as a drumbeat in that dead silence. She had no doubt that any slightly louder sound might wake the "calamity" sleeping upstairs and bring consequences beyond imagination.
Time stretched endlessly in that absolute silence. Every second was as agonizing as a century. Fear, exhaustion, chaotic thoughts, and her lingering desire for that strange tea fragrance... All kinds of emotions tangled and churned inside her, only to be ground into numb powder in that suffocating dead silence.
All she could do was stare wide-eyed and blankly at the ornate crystal chandelier on the ceiling. Its warm yellow light seemed so false and cold at that moment, utterly incapable of dispelling the chill in her heart.
After an unknown amount of time, the ink-black darkness outside finally began to thin beneath a thread of extremely faint yet incredibly tenacious gray-white light. The rain seemed to have eased as well, changing from a violent downpour into a steady patter. It was... almost dawn.
At that darkest moment before dawn, Su Wanqing's nerves, stretched to their limit, seemed to catch the faintest trace of change.
The suffocatingly heavy "stillness" enveloping the entire space seemed to... loosen a little?
Like the most precise of gears, slowly beginning to mesh with its first tooth again. It wasn't the return of sound, but the lifting of a state of "solidification." The rain outside, previously distant and blurred, seemed to have become just a little clearer. The thick, heavy sensation in the air also seemed to have diluted by a fraction.
Su Wanqing's heart jolted! She held her breath, using nearly all her strength to sense it.
That's right! The force that had absolutely suppressed everything was slowly contracting, like a tide receding!
Her eyes instantly erupted with an indescribable, post-disaster joy! He's awake? Is he going to wake up?! Or... is he just turning over?
She still didn't dare move, merely using every one of her senses to catch the slightest disturbance from that room on the second floor. Every second of waiting was like dancing on the edge of a blade.
Another seemingly endless stretch of time passed. The sky outside grew brighter and brighter, and the patter of rain continued. The villa's dead silence finally dissipated completely, returning to a normal morning atmosphere accompanied by the sound of rain.
"Phew..."
A barely audible yet extraordinarily long breath, as if it had come from the depths of the universe, drifted faintly down from the second floor. It carried the laziness and satisfaction of something that had slept for billions of years and had only just awakened.
Su Wanqing's taut body instantly relaxed, as though every bone had been pulled from it. Her entire body went limp on the sofa. The enormous exhaustion that came after surviving a disaster swept through her, leaving her without even the strength to raise a finger. Cold sweat soaked through her back again, but this time it was sweat born of relaxation.
He... had finally woken up.
Inside the guest room upstairs.
Ling Ye still maintained the standard posture of lying rigidly on the carpet, his hands folded over his lower abdomen, atop the Primordial Breath Soil Cloth spread beneath him. He slowly, extremely leisurely, drew in a breath, then slowly exhaled it. Along with that long breath, the invisible yet substantial aura around him—heavy enough to suppress spacetime—returned to the sea like a hundred rivers, instantly retracting until not a trace remained.
He opened his eyes.
In the faint morning light, those eyes were calm and undisturbed, as deep as an ancient well, reflecting the simple outline of the chandelier on the ceiling. There was no confusion upon waking, only a clarity and serenity that had grown even more transparent after sleeping for too long.
He slowly sat up, his movements smooth and natural, without the slightest stiffness. His gaze swept over the ordinary dark-gray cotton T-shirt and faded jeans he was wearing. Then he looked down at his bare feet. (His old slippers had been kicked aside.)
"Tsk." He knitted his brows almost imperceptibly, seemingly still dissatisfied with this outfit of "mortal objects," and muttered, "Linen is still more comfortable..." His tone carried the helplessness of someone whose retirement funds weren't enough and could only make do.
He stood up and stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet. His gaze fell on the piece of chaotic-colored Primordial Breath Soil Cloth spread across the floor. The phantom images of stars, mountains, and rivers flowing across its surface had already faded, making it look like an utterly ordinary, even somewhat dirty and worn, piece of dark-gray coarse cloth.
Ling Ye bent down with extreme casualness and pinched one corner of the cloth. As if tidying up an ordinary picnic mat, he gave his wrist a light shake.
"Fwap."
A soft sound rang out. The Breath Soil Cloth, heavy enough to slightly alter a planet's orbit, was folded as effortlessly as if he were shaking off dust. He casually rolled it into a bundle and stuffed it deep inside the old cloth bag. As the Primordial Breath Soil Cloth was put away, the entire room seemed to "float" upward ever so slightly before returning to normal gravity.
He picked up the cloth bag and padded barefoot across the floor, opening the door before walking down the spiral staircase.
In the living room, Su Wanqing, sprawled on the sofa, sprang upright like a startled rabbit when she heard the footsteps! Her face was still pale, deep dark circles shadowed her eyes, her hair was disheveled, and her gaze was filled with exhaustion and lingering terror.
Ling Ye walked down the stairs and casually swept his eyes over her wretched appearance without the slightest reaction, as if he had merely seen an ordinary piece of furniture. His gaze circled the living room before finally landing on the island counter in the open kitchen.
Besides the sink, there was also... a brand-new electric kettle.
Ling Ye's eyes seemed to brighten slightly. He padded over, picked up the gleaming electric kettle, weighed it curiously, then held it up to the light to examine the measurement markings on its side, seemingly taking an interest in this product of modern technology.
Then, with complete naturalness, he turned on the faucet, filled the kettle, plugged it in, and pressed the boiling switch.
"Beep—"
The crisp alert rang out in the quiet living room.
Su Wanqing's heart jolted along with the sound! She watched Ling Ye nervously, having no idea what this "immortal" intended to do next.
The kettle began to emit a low hum, and the heating coil at its base glowed red. Ling Ye stood barefoot beside the island counter with the tattered cloth bag in hand, quietly tilting his head as he watched wisps of white steam begin to rise from the kettle's spout, as though he were studying some cosmic wonder.
The water boiled. The lid rattled as steam forced it upward, and the kettle automatically switched off.
Ling Ye reached out and cautiously pinched the handle of the scalding kettle. (The temperature meant nothing to him.) He lifted it, then took out the unremarkable Purple Clay Teapot and opened its lid.
This time, he didn't use the cartoon duck enamel mug again. His gaze swept across the island counter before finally settling on... an ordinary white mug printed with the company logo.
He picked up the mug and, just as he had washed the enamel mug the day before, casually rinsed it with water. Then he lifted the boiling kettle and poured the boiling water into the Purple Clay Teapot.
There was no tea strainer, no so-called rinsing or waking of the tea. He simply poured boiling water in with the simplest, roughest method.
"Whoosh—"
The boiling water surged into the Purple Clay Teapot, stirring up amber tea. A warm tea fragrance, more restrained than yesterday's yet even more vast and profound, spread quietly throughout the kitchen like an ancient beast awakening! This time, it didn't trigger any rampant plant growth, but the fragrance carried a strange penetrating power. It instantly dispelled the fatigue and panic Su Wanqing had accumulated through the night, lifting her spirits as though even her soul had been cleansed.
Ling Ye covered the teapot, took hold of its handle, and gently swirled it. Then he picked up the ordinary white mug and slowly poured the tea from the Purple Clay Teapot into it.
The amber tea rippled inside the white mug, shimmering with specks of starlight.
Ling Ye raised the mug to his lips and gently blew on it.
"Slurp..."
The familiar, satisfied sound of drinking tea rang out once more.
Su Wanqing stared blankly at the scene: A man wearing her old T-shirt and jeans, barefoot, boiling water with a modern electric kettle, brewing his "old tea" that could bring the dead back to life, then drinking it from an ordinary company mug... The sight was so bizarre that even her numb nerves felt a sharp stab of pain.
Was this an immortal's return to simplicity... or the ultimate performance art of a top-tier lunatic?!
Ling Ye took a sip of tea and seemed fairly satisfied with the water temperature this time. (Though he still disliked the water quality.) He set down the mug, and his gaze finally landed on Su Wanqing, who sat on the sofa looking haggard and vacant-eyed.
His expression remained calm and undisturbed, as if he were looking at an insignificant object.
"Hey." His voice was slightly hoarse from just waking up, and his tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "I'm hungry. Do you... have anything to eat?"
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