The First Bloom 19

Jianyu stirred awake, his senses returning slowly, like pieces of a puzzle refusing to fit together.

The first thing he noticed was the bed. Not a rough straw mattress or the uneven rocky floor of the cavern—no, this was soft. Plush, even. It felt like the kind of bed people write poems about, the kind that wraps around you and whispers, "Stay."

Cool air brushed against his skin. Not the damp cold of a forest or the sharp chill of a mountain, but the crisp, artificial coolness of air conditioning. For a moment, he thought he might be dreaming.

He opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was smooth, painted a soft off-white, with no cracks, no vines, nothing threatening. Just… plain. Ordinary.

The low hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. It was strange. Too normal. Almost unsettling.

Jianyu frowned and tried to sit up—but froze.

Something warm and solid was pressed against his side.