Rod felt extremely embarrassed and stealthily glanced at her. The nun's cheeks were red, and she lowered her head, her eyes seemingly shimmering with tears.
He didn't know what to say, so he quickly took off his jacket and lay down on the bed.
After a while, he felt a slight coolness on his back as the nun's soft, icy hands were placed on both sides of his shoulder blades, starting to gently glide across, accompanied by warm drops of water falling on his spine.
A strange heat rose in his body, her movements as gentle as clouds in the sky, and as tender as a distant dream.
A faint fragrance lingered at his nose, and only then did Rod's mind completely relax, the unknown, fear, and death along with their associated anxiety, sensitivity, and melancholy, truly leaving him.
He felt as if he was lying in the gentle waters of a river, his soul completely stretched out.
Soft singing echoed in his ears.
"I bring fresh rain for the thirsting flowers, from the seas and the streams;
I wield the flail of the lashing hail, and whiten the green plains under...
..."
Amidst the dreamlike singing, Rod felt his soul burning and his body becoming light, as if floating in the vast universe. His soul soared, rushing towards the vacant and lonely darkness.
However, the next moment, a sudden severe headache surged, his mind sharply feeling the tearing pain, accompanied by a heavy, blunt trauma.
Rod screamed and fell to his knees, clutching his head. The pain was so vivid, like when anesthesia wore off during a tooth extraction, with every detail of the rotten tooth touched by the dentist's forceps reflected in his brain, fracturing his nerves.
Rod stood up with Superman's determination, forced his eyes open, and found that he was no longer on the bed, and the nun had disappeared.
This was a world more like a dream.
He stood amid grey, dim mist, with pale, color-faded soil beneath his feet.
All around was only this mist and soil, stretching infinitely as if without boundaries.
"What, what is happening?"
Rod's mind felt muddled, a mess, the intense pain making his thoughts begin to blur.
He instinctively walked forward and soon discovered the only existence in this empty world.
A stele.
In a world with no references, it seemed to stand at the center of the world.
It was about three meters tall, square-shaped, narrowing from bottom to top, like an obelisk.
The surface was covered in cracks.
In front of it, a human-shaped shadow was fiercely striking it.
With each of its strikes, a blunt pain appeared in his mind; they were so synchronized, as if the obelisk was part of his nerves.
Before Rod could recover, the shadow noticed him, turned its head and lunged at him with frightening speed.
In almost an instant, he was tackled to the ground, the shadow grasping his neck with one hand and delivering heavy strikes to his forehead with the other.
The instinct to survive made Rod struggle desperately, but the shadow's strength far exceeded his, each strike bringing soul-shattering pain. It had no facial features, only two terrifying red lights, yet it exuded a twisted hatred and an urgent need to condemn him to death.
Amidst the continuous strikes, Rod's will began to scatter, death drawing near, his vision blurring, the world darkening, and he gradually couldn't breathe, as if the heaviness of reality was pressing down on him.
But he still resisted, although it seemed futile.
Am I finished?
In the midst of the pain, that was the only thought left in Rod's mind.
Is this how I end?
He thought desperately.
Just then, a golden light pierced the darkness, shining through from the shadow's chest.
Rod instinctively raised his hand, touching the inch of golden light.
The next moment, as if instinct were triggered, Rod fiercely grasped it, like holding a Light Blade.
Without a hint of hesitation, he fiercely pulled out the blade.
The shadow's chest was torn open, it had no facial features, but the expression was one of extreme pain, it had no voice, but a whining sound seemed to transmit through the soul.
The next moment, the shadow burst apart, with a strange wailing sound, turning into countless black particles dissipating into the air.
Only when the last trace of black vanished into the grey mist did Rod come back to his senses.
He lay there for a while before slowly getting up, surprised to find no scars or blood on his body.
"What's going on?"
Rod felt somewhat dazed and still a bit shocked.
He looked down and saw the golden light still on his hand.
"This... am I really not dreaming?"
Rod held the golden light in front of his eyes, carefully examining it. It was somewhere between material and illusion, like solidified jelly, yet like melted gold, irregularly long, like a segment of sunlight cut off.
"This is truly amazing... Is this some kind of weapon?"
This gave him a bit of courage, he stepped forward a few steps, came before the Obelisk, and was surprised to find that it was actually restoring itself. The ashen-gray stone surface was healing, and countless cracks were disappearing,
And as the Stele healed, the intense pain in his head also faded away like a receding tide, leaving only a slight residual ache pulsating through his nerves.
"What on earth is this thing? Where exactly am I?"
Rod felt as though he had become a walking question mark, with a mind full of doubts.
"Why does this Stele seem to synchronize with my spirit, could it be that I am in the microscopic world, and my nerves are this large? Could my intelligence actually far exceed Einstein's?"
"Hm, that possibility isn't out of the question..."
Rod carefully extended his hand, gently touching the Obelisk.
The next instant, the surface of the pillar deepened, like the profound night sky, with tiny points of light spread against the backdrop, like fireflies under the starred sky.
"What is this?"
Rod curiously watched these light points; they were very dim, almost extinguished.
Only the one in the center was slightly brighter, it emitted a dark red glow, like a pile of embers that had just gone out.
As Rod focused on this dark red star, many tiny texts appeared within the red light.
But he did not recognize any of them.
Damn.
Rod made up his mind that he must scan them blind if he got the chance.
Since he couldn't read, Rod reluctantly shifted his gaze away.
But the other light points did not respond; they were too small and dim, nearly vanishing from sight if not paid close attention, just like a hallucination.
Rod watched for a while, but found nothing new.
Just as he was about to exit, something caught the corner of his eye at the base of the Stele—a thin strand of dark red flame.
"Huh? When did this appear?"
Rod shifted his gaze and, the moment he looked at it, a line of information directly appeared in his mind.
[Blossoms on the Frosty Shore, Prince Heigao'er's Soul]
"What is this? A soul?"
Rod looked at it for a few seconds, then returned his gaze to the dark red light point.
"Do they have a connection?"
"Hmm, both are dark red flames, if I add it in..."
The next moment, Rod watched in surprise as the flame rose up, flew toward the dark light point in the Stele, and was devoured by it.
The dark red light point brightened, the stars surged as though ablaze.
A strange sensation rose within Rod, the Obelisk began to glow, and the whole world seemed different.
The Golden Light in his hand suddenly shattered, transforming into countless golden points that submerged into the Obelisk.
"...What just happened?"
Rod was utterly confused, just about to study it closely when suddenly he felt a heavy drop beneath him, a strong sensation of falling, and everything before his eyes blurred.
When he came to his senses, he was back in that dimly lit room, still lying on the bed, with the song of the nun echoing in his ears.
"...Yet I quietly ridicule my own void tomb,
Emerging from the rain-soaked cave,
Like a baby born from the womb, like a ghost fleeing the graveyard..."
But her gentle, boneless hands weren't quite still; they softly slid over his waist and down his spine, sending a thrilling tingle.
Bang!
The door was flung open.
A woman three meters wide stormed in, roaring:
"Confinement! Number Seven! You are confined!"
——
——
——
PS: This poem is excerpted from "The Cloud" by the British poet Shelley
PS2: Three meters wide is an adjective