Yin Wuwang finished changing and pushed open the bedroom door, walking through a short hallway. The bathroom was on the left. On the right was a door with a sticky note bearing two neatly written characters: "Knock."
This had been left by "Shen Han." Yin Wuwang stared at those two words for two seconds, the corner of his lips curving slightly. Cold, orderly, clear boundaries. Very much something Fuguang would do.
Little Deer Assistant 9527 prompted in his mind: "Master, although the story's setting has Jiang Ye and Shen Han sleeping in separate rooms—because Shen Han often works overtime until late and doesn't want to disturb Jiang Ye—if you're both willing, you could sleep together!"
"Mind your own business!" Yin Wuwang's ears instantly flushed crimson as he snapped.
He rounded the hallway into the living room. Less than five ping of space—a gray sofa, a television, a low table. The kitchen and living room were separated only by a counter, which held a coffee machine and some cookware.
Jiang Ye occasionally made breakfast. Yin Wuwang opened the refrigerator—eggs, toast, milk, a few scallions.
He took out the eggs and found a frying pan to place on the stove.
"Master, would you like Little Deer Assistant to guide you through frying eggs?"
Yin Wuwang's first instinct was to refuse. He was the grand Demon Sovereign—he'd refined pills, controlled flames, even tamed heavenly fire. Did he need guidance to fry an egg?
But... he stared at the white panel before him. How did this thing work? Yesterday he'd been too busy admiring Fuguang's new look and too happy about Fuguang cooking for him to listen to anything Little Deer Assistant said. When he'd watched Fuguang operate it, everything had seemed so simple.
He cleared his throat: "Go ahead."
"This is an induction cooktop. There won't be an open flame. First press the power button—the one on the far right."
Yin Wuwang pressed it with his index finger. The panel in front of the buttons lit up, displaying an Arabic numeral he'd only learned yesterday.
"The current temperature is set to 180 degrees. For frying eggs, 120 degrees is recommended."
"How do I adjust it?"
"The plus and minus signs on the panel."
Yin Wuwang looked down at the panel and jabbed the minus sign a few times. The number dropped to 120.
He poured a little oil into the pan—he'd seen this step on television yesterday, at least he remembered that much. Then he tapped the egg against the edge of the pan.
Too much force.
The shell shattered into fragments, and the egg slid into the pan along with all the broken pieces.
Yin Wuwang stared at the catastrophe in the pan, his expression cold as ice.
Little Deer Assistant 9527 ventured cautiously: "...Would you like to try another one?"
"No need. I'll eat this one." Yin Wuwang picked up the chopsticks and began fishing out shell fragments one by one. He did it with intense concentration, brow furrowed, his expression as serious as if he were cracking a formation array.
For the second egg, he'd learned his lesson. He used only thirty percent of his strength. The shell cracked along a perfect line, and the egg slid into the pan without a single piece of shell.
Yin Wuwang gazed at the perfect fried egg in the pan, a subtle sense of accomplishment rising in his chest.
Toast went into the toaster, button pressed, and two minutes later it popped up—this step was easy enough.
He was in the middle of plating when soft footsteps came from the hallway. Light, unhurried—the gait of someone who moved through the world with absolute control over their own body.
Xie Qingyan emerged from his room.
White cotton long-sleeve shirt, short hair slightly mussed with a few strands falling across his forehead. His complexion carried a softness from just waking, missing the usual thousand-mile-away coldness.
Yin Wuwang's breath caught for a beat. He quickly redirected his gaze to the plate.
"Morning." Xie Qingyan's voice was slightly husky from sleep.
"Morning." Yin Wuwang pushed the arranged plate across the counter. "Jiang Ye makes breakfast. I tried it."
Xie Qingyan walked to the counter and glanced down—two slices of perfectly toasted bread, two fried eggs with slightly crispy edges, and a glass of warm milk. A flicker of faint surprise passed through his eyes. Who would have thought the grand Demon Sovereign could actually fry eggs?
Xie Qingyan sat down, picked up his chopsticks, and took a bite of egg. He chewed twice, then nodded slightly: "Nice heat control."
Yin Wuwang pressed his lips together, turning those words over in his mind three times.
Fuguang said nice heat control. This sovereign's fried egg has been approved by the leader of the immortal sects.
...Calm down. It's just an egg.
But his heart, traitor that it was, refused to listen. He'd fed Fuguang. He'd made breakfast for Fuguang, and Fuguang had eaten it, and Fuguang had approved. If someone had told him a month ago that this would become one of the highlights of his three-thousand-year existence, he would have laughed in their face.
Xie Qingyan finished breakfast and put the dishes in the dishwasher. His movements were natural—after all, he'd already figured out how to use all the appliances yesterday.
He surveyed the apartment. Extremely small. Even the smallest pill-refining chamber in his sect was bigger than this place. But fully functional. Compared to the spacious, cool solitude of cultivation caves, this place was cramped and low-ceilinged, filled with objects he'd never seen before.
Perhaps because the space was so small, when he turned around in the kitchen, he inadvertently brushed against Yin Wuwang's arm. It gave him a strange feeling—
In the sect, he kept at least three zhang of distance from everyone, often more. From the moment he'd entered the sect, he'd been a prodigy, the sect leader's direct disciple. After his master's death, he became sect leader himself, became the Sword Sovereign. Most of his life had been spent alone.
But here was different. Life in this modern world seemed to be built from these constant moments of brushing past each other.
He didn't linger on this thought for long.
[End of V2_Chapter 04]
Next: First time driving, first time buying coffee, and the mortals have surprisingly good taste—they think this sovereign and Fuguang make a perfect match.