CHAPTER 149 — A WORLD TOO PERFECT
The first few days felt like walking on borrowed ground.
Long Hao did not argue anymore.
He did not insist the desert was real.
He did not repeat the word Anchor aloud.
He watched.
He listened.
He observed.
If this was reality, then reality would reveal itself in cracks. In inconsistencies. In flaws.
So he accepted it—for now.
Days Later
He was discharged from the hospital under strict supervision.
Physical therapy schedules.
Neurological assessments.
Cognitive evaluations.
Doctors spoke in clean, confident tones about "remarkable recovery."
Zehell never left his side.
Their house stood on a quiet hill overlooking the city.
Glass walls.
Minimalist architecture.
A blend of technology and warm wood interiors.
It wasn't cold, despite the modern aesthetic.
It was lived-in.
Photographs lined one hallway.
Him and Zehell smiling at beaches.
Him standing beside a sleek electric car.
