Today was July 20th, the eighteenth day of the sixth lunar month. The moon remained large and full. The weather was fine, with almost no cloud cover to obstruct the hazy moonlight that draped over the entire city like a filter, lending it a particular poetic ambience.
Ken genuinely felt that outdoors under the moonlight, his overall physical state seemed a fraction better than it was indoors at the same time. Of course, this difference was minuscule compared to the disparity between day and night, almost negligible. He even wondered if it was simply due to the fresher air and higher oxygen content outside.
However, Ken harbored another peculiar sensation: even with his eyes closed, he could faintly perceive the moonlight falling upon him. It was an ineffable perception. When basking in sunlight, one feels it due to its heat, the warmth on the skin signaling its presence. Moonlight is different; it lacks that intensity. Normally, without seeing it, one wouldn't feel bathed in moonlight.
Lately, Ken had been pondering the source of his expended energy—not just for daily activities, he felt it couldn't possibly come solely from the small amounts of chicken and rabbit blood. The discrepancy between his daytime and nighttime states must hold a key.
Ken knew moonlight originated from sunlight, yet they were fundamentally distinct. The Moon's uneven surface meant sunlight striking it wasn't simply reflected; most of the light and heat is absorbed and then re-radiated. Perhaps his mutated body now reacted differently to moonlight?
Ken closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed his body. Then, he realized his hearing seemed significantly sharper. Amidst the howling wind and various distant noises, he could clearly discern the whispers exchanged by the young couple in the opposite corner of the rooftop. Though not crystal clear, catching fragmented sentences was astonishing enough.
He opened his eyes, closed them again, then reopened them. He soon understood: closing his eyes didn't suddenly boost his hearing; it simply allowed him to notice how acute it had become. In fact, if he focused intently, he could hear their murmurs regardless of whether his eyes were open or closed.
In other words, his hearing had likely improved dramatically after the second feeding. Previously, he hadn't noticed markedly, as his enhanced vision had captured almost all his sensory attention. Daily activities also relied more on sight than hearing.
Naturally, Ken considered targeted hearing training before the next feeding to observe any further enhancement. However, with tomorrow's date in mind and concerns about premature feeding, he decided to postpone such training.
He didn't linger on the rooftop long, returning to his room to read various materials while awaiting dawn. As the first light streaked the horizon around 5:30 AM, Ken felt the anticipated decline in bodily functions, his mental alertness less vibrant than at night.
At that moment, he was reading about tidal forces. Could X be related to the Moon's gravitational pull on Earth? Oceans are affected by tides; human blood, being liquid, must also experience some influence, albeit negligible and imperceptible to ordinary people. Perhaps, after the changes induced by the unknown Factor X, his body had become more sensitive to such field or magnetic variations?
He quickly dismissed this speculation. Earth's tides aren't solely due to the Moon; the Sun contributes significantly. Moreover, tidal strength doesn't have a direct, pronounced correlation with the day-night cycle.
Frowning in thought, his gaze through the window followed the sunlight gradually painting the streets outside. Suddenly, he paused, murmuring to himself, "Or perhaps it's not that the night provides an enhancement, but that sunrise imposes a suppression?"
…
Shortly after 1 PM, Ken, wearing a baseball cap, left for the café where he was to meet the woman. Arriving early, he ordered a drink, chose a corner seat, and then took the opportunity while fetching napkins from the self-service station to discreetly empty his cup. He refilled it with water from the station's jug before returning to his seat.
Checking the time, it was just past 2 PM; they had agreed on 3 PM. Unhurried, he sat in the corner, browsing information on his phone. In the past, before a arranged marriage meeting, he would have prepared conversation topics, analyzed the other person's possible personality and interests based on available information, and planned potential next steps with contingency plans.
Now, however, he genuinely had no intention of pursuing a relationship or social connection. His sole aim was to conclude this meeting swiftly without causing offense or making things awkward for Zhao Lei, eliminating the need for extensive preparation.
Ken's focus remained entirely on the changes within his own body. The morning's hypothesis—that certain factors post-sunrise suppressed his physical functions—required further verification. Sunrise was an unequivocal demarcation point, so sunlight was undoubtedly a factor to consider. Yet, during recent sunrises, he had been indoors, not directly exposed. If it were related to rising temperature, the change should be gradual, not precisely aligned with that critical moment.
Ken speculated it might be linked to shifts in Earth's magnetic field at sunrise. His body, perceiving this change, might trigger a regulatory mechanism akin to a biological clock, suppressing its own functions to reduce consumption and achieve a certain equilibrium?
As he pondered, a new WeChat message arrived. The woman had also arrived early and was asking what he'd like to drink, offering to order first. Checking the time: 2:41 PM. She was early too.
Ken looked up towards the café entrance just as a young woman walked in. She was indeed, as Zhao Lei had described, "very cute and pretty," but Ken wasn't entirely sure if this was his arranged marriage partner. The girl in denim shorts, a white T-shirt, with twin ponytails and large round-framed glasses looked far too young—perhaps not even twenty?