The species of the little plant was truly peculiar—utterly ordinary yet entirely unremarkable—to the point that Nan Yan couldn't even identify its name.
He stayed up until midnight, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, and fell asleep with his elbow resting on his forehead.
The room was silent. Outside on the table, the little plant had long since drooped its head.
The next day dawned bright and clear.
Nan Yan left early in the morning. The little plant on the table twisted and turned, surveying every corner of this excessively clean and tidy room.
Because her identity this time was so extraordinary, almost defying the logic of the world, the System had given her just one task: to exist in the human world, with no further requirements.
Only then did Jiang Yan relent; otherwise, she would have criticized the System to the point of crashing.
Unable to discover any distinctive features in the room, Jiang Yan had no choice but to settle down quietly.
In the evening, Nan Yan returned from outside. He had even gone to the flower shop to get a pack of fertilizer from the owner. However, he saw that the little plant looked wilted and listless, lacking any vitality.
Nan Yan gently brushed its leaves with his hand and carefully added some fertilizer granules to the pot. The memory of his earlier mealtime mistake surfaced, and after a moment's hesitation, he couldn't resist saying to the plant: "If you're hungry, you can eat a bit of this to fill your stomach."
After saying this, he turned his head and smiled to himself, thinking it was quite ridiculous to be joking with a plant.
Jiang Yan didn't want to eat this at all. She craved seaweed pork rolls, crispy tofu, garlic beef, braised pork trotters, lemon chicken feet, old duck soup... her mouth watered at the thought.
The only good thing about today was that Nan Yan had brought the little plant into his bedroom. He thought that perhaps the lack of open windows had caused the plant to wilt, and being in the bedroom would help it warm up.
It could also freshen up the air in the bedroom. Before turning off the lights, he gently tapped the tip of the plant with his index finger and instructed it like a big boss: "Work hard tonight, no slacking off or sleeping. The air purification is all up to you."
As the lights went out, the room was plunged into darkness. Jiang Yan twisted her body slightly, wondering about air purification—she hadn't learned how to do that yet. She had originally planned to investigate the bedroom to figure out what Nan Yan did for a living, but as soon as the lights went out, she was overwhelmed by a wave of drowsiness.
When she opened her eyes again, it was already the next day. Nan Yan was already gone, but before leaving, he had thoughtfully placed the little plant on the balcony so it could bask in the sunlight.
The sunshine was incredibly warm, making Jiang Yan feel lazy and languid, as if her entire body had turned to jelly.
So when Nan Yan returned, he was greeted by the sight of a toppled little plant. He hurriedly brought the flower pot inside, carefully trying to prop the plant back up.
Jiang Yan had been lying comfortably and only realized Nan Yan had returned when she was carried into the room. She didn't dare move a muscle, maintaining her toppled position rigidly, playing the part of a languorous little plant.
Nan Yan's mood, however, took a downturn. He felt he hadn't taken good care of this little plant. Since bringing it home, its condition seemed to be getting worse and worse.
That night, Jiang Yan finally discovered that Nan Yan's identity might be related to music. There was a guitar in the bedroom, and several photos resembling concert shots were plastered on the wall.
Before going to sleep, Jiang Yan aggressively questioned the System: "How! Much! Longer until I can turn into a human!"
The System meekly replied: "Soon, very soon."
The now-placated Jiang Yan began to suspect that the System might have dug another big pit for her to fall into.
The next day, Nan Yan placed the little plant at the far end of the balcony, allowing it to get just a bit of sunlight without being exposed to rain.
Then he left, got into the company car, and headed to the practice room. Nan Yan was actually quite busy, having to train every day and occasionally unable to return home. Plus, that little plant was so difficult to care for, wilting at the slightest breeze and toppling over in direct sunlight.
Nan Yan pondered whether he should give the plant to his assistant to look after. If it died under his care, it would be too pitiful—it would have been better off staying at the flower shop.
However, this plan never came to fruition!
Upon returning home, he immediately went to check on the delicate little plant. To his shock, all that remained in the flower pot was a mound of soil with a small hole in it.
Nan Yan felt both bewildered and heartbroken—his little plant had vanished!
By the looks of it, it seemed as if something had pulled it out! But he had always kept the door locked, so no one could have come in...
