Xia Yu sat in the backyard corridor, cross-legged in meditation, staring intently at a glass on the short table.
Inside the cup was a peculiar golden viscous liquid.
Dudu.
At this moment, the cellphone placed on the table vibrated, and Hua Mao, who was lying next to Xia Yu licking her paws, raised her head to take a look.
A text message?
With little interest, Xia Yu didn't plan to pay it any attention.
In fact, he had been sitting like this for quite a while, hoping that by meditating quietly, he could capture a faint sense of connection with the cup of liquid that he had felt before. Who knew that after the spontaneous reaction this morning, everything had sunk without a trace.
As he sat there, the calm field of his mind was once again overgrown with weeds.
Xia Yu deeply doubted the integrity of the system.
