The Morning Light of a Salted Fish and the Torment of Mortals

Absolute "stillness."

It wasn't silence in the physical sense, but a deeper, more fundamental "stasis." As if centered on the room on the second floor, time itself was being dragged by an unseen force, slowing its pace, and space was solidified into a transparent yet hard amber. The sound of the torrential rain outside was pushed to the distant horizon, blurred into mere dull white noise. Inside the villa, the hum of the refrigerator compressor, the ticking of the clock hands, even the random Brownian motion of air molecules... all "movement" was suppressed by an indescribable heavy force, extinguished, and finally reduced to a heart-stopping, near-vacuum stillness.

Su Wanqing curled up on the sofa in the first-floor living room, like a forgotten sculpture in an ice cave. She had maintained this posture for I don't know how long; her legs had long since gone numb and lost sensation. Her housecoat, soaked with cold sweat, clung to the expensive leather sofa, bringing waves of sticky chill. But she dared not move, not even to breathe too deeply.

That "quiet" that seeped down from the second floor, like a tangible substance, enveloped her like cold tide, penetrating every pore. Every faint heartbeat, every involuntary swallow, sounded as clear and piercing as a drumbeat in this dead silence. She had no doubt that any slightly louder sound could awaken the "Calamity" slumbering upstairs, leading to unimaginable consequences.

Time stretched infinitely in this absolute silence. Each second felt like an eternity of torment. Fear, exhaustion, chaotic thoughts, and the lingering craving for that strange tea aroma... various emotions intertwined and churned in her heart, ultimately ground into numb powder by the suffocating stillness.

She could only widen her eyes, staring blankly at the ornate crystal chandelier on the ceiling. The warm yellow light seemed so false and cold at this moment, unable to dispel the chill in her heart.

After an unknown amount of time, the ink-black darkness outside the window finally began to be diluted by a faint, yet incredibly tenacious, grayish-white light. The rain seemed to have lessened too, from a violent downpour to a continuous drizzle. Dawn... was approaching.

It was in this darkest moment before dawn that Su Wanqing's nerves, stretched to their limit, seemed to catch a subtle change.

The suffocating, heavy "stillness" that enveloped the entire space seemed to... loosen slightly?

Like the most precise gears, the first teeth began to mesh again, extremely slowly. It wasn't the return of sound, but the release of a "frozen" state. The rain sound, previously distant and blurred outside the window, seemed to have become slightly clearer. The viscous, heavy feeling in the air also seemed to have diluted a bit.

Su Wanqing's heart leaped! She held her breath, using almost all her strength to perceive.

That's right! The absolute power that suppressed everything was retracting, extremely slowly, like a receding tide!

An indescribable, almost ecstatic joy, like surviving a catastrophe, flashed in her eyes! Was he awake? Was he going to wake up?! Or... was he just turning over?

She still didn't dare to move, using all her senses to capture any slight sound from the room on the second floor. Every second of waiting was like dancing on the tip of a knife.

After what felt like an eternity, the sky outside grew brighter, the rain drizzled, and the dead silence inside the villa finally completely dissipated, returning to the normal morning atmosphere with the sound of rain.

"Hoo..."

A faint, yet long, sigh, as if from the depths of the universe, came vaguely from the second floor. The sound carried a laziness and satisfaction like that of someone who had slept for eons and had just awakened.

Su Wanqing's tense body instantly relaxed, as if all her bones had been removed. She collapsed completely onto the sofa. The immense exhaustion of surviving a disaster swept over her, leaving her without the strength to even lift a finger. Cold sweat soaked her back again, but this time, it was sweat of relief.

He... had finally woken up.

In the guest room upstairs.

Ling Ye maintained his standard posture, hands clasped over his lower abdomen, lying perfectly straight on the carpet covered by the chaotic colored "Primordial Breath Soil Cloth." He slowly, extremely slowly, inhaled, and then slowly exhaled. With this long breath, the invisible yet heavy aura that could suppress space-time around him converged like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, instantly retracting completely, leaving no trace.

He opened his eyes.

In the faint morning light, those eyes were calm and placid, as deep as an ancient well, reflecting the silhouette of the simple chandelier on the ceiling. There was no confusion of just waking up, only a clarity and tranquility that came from having slept for too long.

He slowly sat up, his movements fluid and natural, without any stiffness. His gaze swept over the plain dark gray pure cotton T-shirt and faded jeans he was wearing, then he looked down at his bare feet (his old slippers had been kicked to the side).

"Tsk," he frowned almost imperceptibly, seemingly still not entirely satisfied with the "mortal attire" he was wearing, and muttered in a low voice, "Linen is still more comfortable..." His tone carried a hint of helplessness, like someone on a tight budget having to make do.

He stood up, his bare feet treading on the soft carpet, his gaze falling on the spread-out chaotic colored "Primordial Breath Soil Cloth" on the floor. The illusory images of stars and rivers that had flowed on the cloth had disappeared, making it look like an ordinary, even somewhat dirty, dark gray rough cloth.

Ling Ye casually bent down, grasped a corner of the cloth, and like tidying up an ordinary picnic mat, flicked his wrist.

"Pfft."

A light sound. The "Breath Soil Cloth," so heavy it could make a planet slightly adjust its orbit, was folded up by him as easily as shaking off dust, casually rolled into a ball, and then stuffed back into the depths of the worn cloth bag. As the "Breath Soil Cloth" was put away, the entire room seemed to "float" slightly, returning to its normal sense of gravity.

He picked up the cloth bag and, with a patter of bare feet, pushed open the door and walked down the spiral staircase.

In the living room, Su Wanqing, who had collapsed on the sofa, sprang up like a startled rabbit upon hearing footsteps! Her face was still pale, with dark circles under her eyes, her hair disheveled, and her eyes filled with exhaustion and lingering terror.

Ling Ye descended the stairs, his gaze casually sweeping over her disheveled appearance without any reaction, as if he were merely looking at a piece of ordinary furniture. His eyes scanned the living room, finally settling on the island counter in the open-plan kitchen.

There, besides the sink, sat a... brand-new electric kettle.

Ling Ye's eyes seemed to brighten slightly. He walked over with a patter, picked up the shiny electric kettle, weighed it curiously, and then looked at the scale markings on the side against the light, seemingly intrigued by this modern technological product.

Then, he very naturally turned on the faucet, filled the kettle with water, plugged it in, and pressed the heating switch.

"Beep--"

A crisp notification sound echoed in the quiet living room.

Su Wanqing's heart leaped with the sound! She nervously watched Ling Ye, unsure what this "immortal" would do next.

The kettle began to emit a low hum, and the heating element at the bottom glowed red. Ling Ye stood barefoot by the island counter, holding the worn cloth bag, tilting his head slightly, and watching with interest as wisps of white steam began to emerge from the kettle's spout, as if studying some cosmic phenomenon.

The water boiled. The lid rattled with steam and automatically shut off.

Ling Ye reached out, carefully grasping the scorching hot handle of the kettle (the temperature bothered him not at all), and lifted it. He took out the unassuming purple clay teapot again and lifted the lid.

This time, he didn't use the cartoon duck enamel mug. His gaze swept across the island counter, finally landing on a... plain white mug with a company logo.

He picked up the white mug and, as he had done with the enamel mug yesterday, rinsed it casually with water. Then, he lifted the scorching hot kettle and poured the boiling water into the purple clay teapot.

No tea strainer, no so-called "washing" or "awakening" the tea. Just the simplest, most direct pouring of boiling water.

"Splash--"

The boiling water poured into the purple clay teapot, stirring up amber-colored tea liquor. A warm, mellow tea aroma, more restrained than yesterday but even more vast and profound, like an awakened ancient beast, quietly permeated the kitchen area! This time, it didn't cause plants to grow wildly, but the aroma had a strange penetrating power, instantly dispelling Su Wanqing's fatigue and fear from staying up all night, invigorating her spirit as if her soul had been cleansed.

Ling Ye closed the lid, held the handle of the purple clay teapot, and gave it a gentle shake. Then, he picked up the plain white mug and slowly poured the tea liquor from the purple clay teapot into it.

The amber tea liquor swirled in the white mug, reflecting starlike points of light.

Ling Ye raised the mug to his lips and blew on it gently.

"Slurp..."

The familiar, contented sound of tea drinking echoed once more.

Su Wanqing stared blankly at the scene: a man wearing her old T-shirt and jeans, barefoot, boiling water in a modern electric kettle to brew his "old tea" that could revive the dead. He then drank it from a plain company mug... The sight was so bizarre it sent a jolt through her numb nerves.

Was this a celestial being's return to simplicity... or the ultimate performance art of a top-tier lunatic?!

Ling Ye took a sip of tea, seemingly satisfied with the water temperature this time (though he still disliked the water quality). He put down the mug, his gaze finally falling on Su Wanqing, who sat on the sofa, looking haggard with a vacant stare.

His eyes remained calm and unruffled, as if looking at an insignificant object.

"Hey," he began, his voice slightly hoarse from just waking up, his tone as flat as if discussing the weather, "I'm hungry. Is there... anything to eat?"