Looking up at the familiar white ceiling once again, Xingchen couldn't help but chuckle.
His gaze shifted toward Haoran, who sat nearby, watching him with the vigilance of someone afraid he'd disappear the moment he looked away.
Xingchen let out a helpless sigh.
"It's not like I'm going to run away, you know."
He deliberately avoided his brother's stare.
"Hmph!"
Haoran folded his arms and let out a dismissive snort, clearly unconvinced. He had already watched his younger brother vanish for two whole days without a trace. There was no way he was letting his guard down now.
He opened his mouth, ready to deliver yet another lecture.
Knock.
Knock.
The sharp rap at the door interrupted him.
Both brothers turned as the door swung open. A doctor in a white coat stepped inside, followed closely by a young nurse carrying a clipboard.
Haoran's stern expression gradually softened.
The irritation that had been written across his face moments ago disappeared, replaced by unmistakable worry as his gaze shifted toward the doctor. His fists, clenched at his sides, loosened unconsciously.
"Doctor..." His voice was quieter now. "How is he?"
The middle-aged doctor adjusted the tablet in his hands before glancing between the two brothers.
"Fortunately, there's no sign of any life-threatening complications."
Haoran visibly relaxed, only for the doctor to continue.
"However, he is suffering from severe dehydration and malnutrition. Judging from his condition, he likely went without proper food or water for quite some time."
Haoran's brows knitted together. He instinctively looked toward Xingchen, who merely sat on the hospital bed in silence.
"That said..." The doctor frowned slightly as he studied the medical report. "There's something rather unusual."
He tapped the screen with a finger.
"The fractures and internal injuries he sustained during his previous hospitalization have healed at an astonishing rate. While they haven't recovered completely, they're far beyond what we'd normally expect in such a short period."
Even the nurse standing beside him couldn't hide her surprise.
"Medically speaking, I can't offer a satisfactory explanation. The human body simply doesn't recover this quickly under normal circumstances."
Xingchen lowered his eyes, concealing the faint ripple in his thoughts.
The golden rune...
Although he hadn't consciously cultivated, whatever had entered his body at the Dao Gate had clearly changed something.
The doctor set the tablet aside.
"Even so, I don't recommend discharging him yet."
He looked directly at Haoran.
"Given everything that's happened over the past few days, I'd like him to remain under observation for another week. We'll continue monitoring his vital signs and run additional examinations to ensure there aren't any delayed complications."
Haoran answered without the slightest hesitation.
"Of course."
He let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
As for the unusually fast recovery, he didn't really care as long as his brother was fine.
"As long as he's safe."
The doctor offered a reassuring nod before exchanging a few final words with the nurse. Together, they left the room, the soft click of the closing door leaving the brothers alone once more.
The room grew quiet.
Haoran sank into the chair beside the bed, the tension finally draining from his shoulders.
Xingchen glanced at him, feeling a trace of guilt.
To Haoran, these past few days had been nothing short of a nightmare. First the accident... then the unexplained disappearance... and now another hospitalization.
Yet despite it all, his brother had remained by his side without a single complaint.
Several hours passed quietly.
Haoran remained by Xingchen's bedside the entire time, refusing to leave even for a moment. He only relaxed after seeing the color gradually return to his brother's face.
Eventually, his phone vibrated.
Haoran glanced at the screen before letting out a weary sigh.
"I have to get back to work."
Xingchen gave a small nod. "Go. I'll be fine."
"Hmph."
Haoran shot him a skeptical look.
"That's exactly what you said before disappearing for two days."
Xingchen rubbed the bridge of his nose, unable to offer a proper rebuttal.
Seeing his brother's rare expression, Haoran couldn't help but shake his head.
"Don't wander around. If you need anything, call me immediately."
"...I will."
"And don't think about leaving the hospital on your own."
"I won't."
Haoran narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced.
After delivering another round of warnings—and repeating half of them for good measure—he finally picked up his coat.
"I'll come back as soon as my shift ends."
With that, he left the room, and the door clicked shut behind him, leaving Xingchen alone once more.
The steady rhythm of the heart monitor echoed through the room.
Xingchen leaned back against the bed and slowly closed his eyes.
This time, he made no attempt to cultivate.
Nor did he dare probe the golden rune again.
The memory of the Dao Gate's overwhelming pressure and the terrifying vision that followed remained vivid in his mind. Even now, recalling it sent an involuntary chill through his body.
"...Too reckless."
He admitted it without hesitation.
Were it not for his strong soul, he doubted he would have survived.
For the first time since awakening in this world, Xingchen forced himself to set aside the urge to seek answers.
Instead, he began to calmly piece together everything that had happened.
The Dao Gate.
The golden rune.
The strange key embedded within his soul.
The vision of countless worlds pouring through colossal gates.
One by one, he arranged the fragments in his mind, searching for the thread that connected them all.
Only by understanding the past could he hope to take his next step.
Back then, when the golden rune entered his body, everything had happened far too quickly.
The overwhelming pain... the Dao Gate... the cosmic vision...
Before he could grasp a single answer, he had been thrown back into reality.
Xingchen slowly opened his eyes.
"No."
He quietly dismissed the countless questions swirling through his mind.
His body was still far too weak.
Whatever the golden rune truly was, it had waited countless ages before appearing before him. It could wait another week.
For now, his priority was simple.
Recover.
After carefully organizing his thoughts and forming several tentative guesses, Xingchen deliberately set the matter aside. He would revisit everything once he left the hospital, when both his body and mind had fully recovered.
Until then, there was no point forcing the issue.
The following days passed quietly.
Apart from following the doctor's instructions and allowing his body to heal, Xingchen began rebuilding his physical foundation through gentle exercise. Light stretches, breathing exercises, and simple martial stances—such as the horse stance—became part of his daily routine.
It was a far cry from the rigorous cultivation of his previous life, but even an immortal's journey began with a single step.
The rest of his time was spent browsing the internet.
Although he possessed the memories of this world's Xingchen, those memories belonged to an ordinary high school student. They were fragmented, ordinary, and often overlooked the broader picture.
So he read.
He studied humanity's history, its technological breakthroughs, its exploration of space, and the countless achievements civilization had accomplished without spiritual qi.
The deeper he looked, the more fascinated he became.
The path of technology was fundamentally different from cultivation, yet no less remarkable.
By the time the week drew to a close, Xingchen understood this world far better than he had upon awakening.
His body had recovered considerably.
His mind had settled.
And the countless questions surrounding the golden rune had not faded.
They had merely been waiting.
The afternoon sun bathed the city in a warm golden glow as Xingchen stepped out of the hospital.
A full week had passed.
After countless examinations and continuous observation, the doctors had finally deemed him fit to leave.
Waiting outside the entrance was a familiar figure.
Haoran.
The moment he spotted Xingchen, he let out a quiet breath of relief before walking over and taking the small bag of belongings from his brother's hand without a word.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."
Xingchen smiled faintly and followed.
The ride back passed in comfortable silence. Neither of them spoke much. Somehow, neither of them needed to.
As soon as they opened the apartment door, a familiar aroma drifted through the room.
Xingchen paused.
"...You cooked?"
Haoran slipped off his shoes and glanced back at him.
"You've been stuck eating hospital food for a week." He shrugged casually. "I figured you'd want something decent for a change."
His gaze drifted toward the dining table.
Neatly arranged upon it was a plate of freshly made jiaozi, their delicate folds releasing gentle wisps of steam. Beside them sat a few simple home-cooked dishes, prepared with obvious care.
For a brief moment, Xingchen stood motionless.
A distant memory surfaced.
Years ago, when both of them were still children, their mother would spend evenings in the kitchen making dumplings from scratch. The two brothers would hover nearby, stealing one whenever they thought she wasn't looking, only to be caught every single time.
She never truly scolded them.
Instead, she would laugh, gently tap their foreheads with flour-covered fingers, and tell them to wait until dinner.
Back then, the apartment had felt warmer.
Back then... their parents had still been there.
The memory faded as quickly as it had come.
The room fell quiet.
Haoran placed another bowl on the table before speaking softly.
"I tried making them the way Mom used to."
"...They're probably not as good."
Xingchen slowly took his seat.
He picked up a dumpling, took a bite, and remained silent for a long moment.
Then, a faint smile appeared on his face.
"They're good."
Haoran let out a quiet chuckle.
"Liar."
"They're edible at best."
Despite his words, the tension in his shoulders eased.
The two brothers ate in silence.
It wasn't an awkward silence.
It was the kind that only existed between family.
Looking across the table, Xingchen watched his brother absentmindedly reminding him to eat more, occasionally placing another dumpling into his bowl without even realizing he was doing it.
For years after their parents' accident, Haoran had carried burdens no child should have borne.
He had worked, studied, cooked, worried, and sacrificed.
All so that his younger brother could grow up without feeling the full weight of their loss.
Only now did Xingchen truly understand how much had rested upon those shoulders.
In his previous life, he had witnessed magnificent sects, ancient treasures, and battles that shook the heavens.
Yet none of them carried the quiet warmth of this small apartment.
None of them felt as precious as the person sitting across from him.
A warmth spread through Xingchen's heart.
This life...
He was no longer alone.
And this time, he would no longer allow Haoran to shoulder everything by himself.