1365 Natural Talen (1/2)

Zhang Zian opened his eyes. The light was dim. He saw a familiar bedroom ceiling.

It was very quiet around him, and there was nothing, sound or light, that could have woken him up. He didn't know how he'd woken up. It was as if he'd known it was time to wake up naturally. He felt no sense of sleepiness.

Was it the biological clock formed by his work?

He thought a little while lying in bed. Although he worked hard and often worked in the 996 system, at least he got to work at 9:00 in the morning. It didn't seem like he needed to be up so early. In addition, he could disrupt the excessively regular work hours on Sundays. The natural wake situation he was experiencing now seemed to be the inertia of the biological clock that would be put to work when he got used to waking up at a fixed time every day.

Of course, maybe it wasn't so complicated at all. It might have been that he'd gone to bed early last night, so he had woken up early today.

The door next to his room opened, and quiet footsteps came from the hallway. It seemed that his parents had also gotten up at this time.

What a coincidence.

Anyway, he was not feeling sleepy, so he also turned around and got up. He put on some clothes, went to the bathroom, and washed his face.

In the middle of the night, he'd stumbled to the toilet, but his eyelids had been too heavy. He should have gone straight from the bedroom to the bathroom. However, when he came back, he found that he had taken a few small bends, as if he were instinctively avoiding some obstacles. However, everything seemed to be clear and empty here...

As he wiped his face, he looked at the reflection in the mirror and noticed the bathtub, in which there was debris stacked.

He did not really enjoy what he saw, and this feeling lingered in his heart. However, it was not as strong as what he'd felt the day before. He seemed to have slowly but surely gotten used to this slightly-empty room.

People's ability to adapt was so scary.

In a few days, this feeling of his may disappear completely, and even the existence of it may be completely forgotten.

There was nothing wrong with this. Anyway, the root cause of this feeling could not be found.

He opened the door and happened to bump into his mother, who was busy in the kitchen.

”How come you didn't sleep more?” his mother asked in surprise.

”I couldn't sleep, so I got up.” He smiled and rolled up his sleeves. ”Is there anything I can help you with?”

”No, you go back and lie down. It's too early!” his mother exclaimed, squinting at him.

”Then I will go downstairs and see if Dad has anything for me to do.”

He ran down the stairs with a smile, only to hear his mother nagging in the kitchen: ”Really, this child...”

His father had opened the shutter door, and he stood outside the door and greeted the neighbors who passed by him. When he turned around, he found that Zhang Zian had already picked up a ‎British shorthair cat that a customer had sent in for a bath yesterday. He intended to take it into the pet bathroom for a bath.

”Put it down! Put it down! Don't do it! That cat is amazing! It will go crazy when you try to give it a bath!” His father rushed over and took the ‎British shorthair cat from his arms.

”Then I will help you do something else.”

When his father took the cat back to the cage, he picked up the small bag with professional tools in it and helped the Garfield kitten clean its tears.

”Don't—you don't know how to do that. Don't fool around...”

After his father said the first half of what he wanted to say, he swallowed the latter half, because Zhang Zian's movements suggested a sense of familiarity with this work. It was as smooth as a stream of moving water. It often took two people to complete the work of cleaning up the tears, but he was now completing it alone.

”You... Are you raising cats outside?”

”No. How could I have time...?”