Just like last time, the plant mutation was beyond anyone’s comprehension. The internet was flooded with nothing but news about it.
I scrolled through posts videos and photos everywhere, with comments ranging from panic to excitement.
Some claimed the world was ending and promoted strange cults.
I reported those immediately.
Others said their houseplants had mutated and were spitting at them, asking for advice.
I couldn’t help, so I just liked the post.
Some showed off giant fruit from their gardens apples the size of a human head.
Everyone urged them to take a bite and report the taste.
I laughed. In the last timeline, mutated plants grew huge but tasted awful like chewing on dry sugarcane, or sometimes with bizarre flavors.
I remembered the apples they tasted like chili peppers soaked in soy sauce.
Sure enough, soon the poster uploaded photos of a spit-out apple and a mouth swollen like a sausage, along with a string of curses.
I joined the crowd in laughing.
Others worried that with vegetables and fruit tasting so bad, what would humans eat?
I sighed.
There was only so much unmutated food. Once it was gone, people survived on cakes made from mutated plants.
That feeling choking down something so nasty you had to gulp water just to swallow dominated my memories.
That’s why, after coming back, I did everything I could to cook delicious meals for myself, trying to erase those memories.
If I stored my food carefully, it would last me a lifetime.
No way would I ever eat another bite of those mutant plant cakes
I threw open the window and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp oxygen produced by this vast ocean of plants.
Sunlight burst through the clouds, the world below empty of people and utterly silent.
I pulled out my phone to capture the scene.
But somehow, my fingers slipped—the phone tumbled from my hand and plummeted in free fall.
Oh no!
My heart lurched. From a drop of seven or eight meters, my phone was as good as dead.
But before it could hit the ground, a shadow streaked downward one of the previously motionless aerial roots shot out, snatching my phone midair.
I stared in shock as the root, now animated, curled around the fallen phone and delivered it right back to my window.
Taking the phone, I gripped the root in my hand, giving it a little shake as if shaking hands.
The root responded with a gentle wiggle.
“Da Rong?” I called out tentatively.
It shook again.
My eyes widened in disbelief.
This plant’s evolution was off the charts Da Rong actually had self-awareness.
Some mutated plants could attack people, but that was just instinct. Da Rong, on the other hand, could interact with me, responding to my words.
I was thrilled, but memories from my past life surfaced.
Back then, Da Rong had mutated too, but only stretched its roots across half my apartment. Now that I think about it, maybe it was because my old place was a top-floor flat and Da Rong couldn’t reach the earth for nutrients. That’s why it never grew like this.
Who would’ve thought the wrong living arrangement cost me the chance to bond with a super-mutant plant?
I sighed deeply, feeling a mix of regret and gratitude.
Getting a second chance at life was my greatest fortune. With memories from my previous life and this incredible Da Rong, I was determined to live better than ever.
After playing the “shake hands” game with Da Rong for a while, I got up to use the bathroom and freshen up.
But as I lifted the toilet lid, I froze.
I stared at the toilet, wondering where it now led.
Should I hope that when Da Rong lifted the villa, it also scooped up the new septic tank I’d installed?
If Da Rong was just a plant, I wouldn’t care it could treat all this as fertilizer. But now that it was sentient, I just couldn’t bring myself to use the bathroom on its body.
I flushed and listened closely… The sound of water was the same as always.
Unable to hold it any longer, I sat down, embarrassment burning in my cheeks.
When I finished and washed my hands, I felt too awkward to even face Da Rong…
The main water and power lines had been severed there was no hope of repair. Now I relied on the water stored in the tanks, and backup power kicked in automatically.
Da Rong’s canopy blocked most of the sunlight, so the solar panels didn’t get much charge, but it was still enough for my needs.
Plus, I had a diesel generator and plenty of fuel at least five years’ worth of energy security.
I asked Da Rong if it could drape its aerial roots to shield the villa’s courtyard. After all, two hundred meters wasn’t that high someone else with a telescope might spot us.
Da Rong understood and sent down a curtain of roots, draping them around the house like a living veil, but thoughtfully leaving my bedroom window clear so I could look out.
In my delight, I sang a song for Da Rong. Instantly, all the aerial roots inside the house retreated in a hurry.
Life after that was blissful.
Though I was alone, Da Rong’s companionship meant I never felt lonely.
I cooked myself delicious meals, teased Da Rong’s branches, serenaded it with my off-key singing, and even taught it to help with chores.
Da Rong was like a patient, gentle pet slow-moving but obedient.
Within a week, it had learned to sweep the floor for me.
I read up on plant biology online, sometimes wondering if Da Rong truly understood me. Maybe its “emotions” were just my imagination maybe it simply sensed my hormones and mirrored my mood.
But science aside, I wanted to believe that this tolerant, loyal Da Rong genuinely cared for me.
One day, I was eating a bowl of tiny tomatoes, chatting with Da Rong.
“My stash of fresh fruit and veggies is running low. After the mutation, even old seeds won’t grow normal fruit. Every bite of the real thing is precious now.”
Hearing this, Da Rong extended a branch and gently rolled up a tomato.
Fish-Fragrant Shredded Pork with Tofu - Chapter 3
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