477: Chapter 473: Selling bread in a bakery.

Ye Ouyang walked out of the building, holding his left hand high so everyone could see the emerald-green vine wrapped around his wrist. "Look! I've made a new friend!"

Shen Mingyuan leaned in, looking down at the circle of green branches wrapped around his wrist. "A plant? You brought its main body out?"

Ye Ouyang nodded and shook his wrist, the vine swaying gently with the movement. "The ones outside have lost their main body, so they don't have much intelligence. No need to worry about them."

Wei Ziqing stood nearby, his gaze shifting from Ye Ouyang's wrist to Lu Jianchuan's motorcycle, then to the green snake poking its head out from behind Shen Mingyuan at some point, and finally falling back to his own empty hands.

"Senior Lu has a motorcycle, Lawyer Shen has a snake, and now even you have a plant." He sighed. "I'm the only one with nothing."

Ye Ouyang paused for a moment, looked at his left hand, and then at Wei Ziqing.

"That's true. Then you'll have to find an opportunity to find a suitable partner. When that happens, we can—" He suddenly stopped, his eyes lighting up as he raised his left hand even higher. "I've caught a Vine Beast!"

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da!

(Pokémon capture music)

Lu Jianchuan patted the dust off his hands and glanced at the building that was still smoking. "That's about enough. Let's head back."

The group dispersed. Lu Jianchuan straddled his motorcycle, the engine humming as it carried him away until he disappeared at the end of the road. Shen Mingyuan pulled the green snake from behind him, draped it over his shoulder, and strolled leisurely toward the dormitory. Wei Ziqing walked at the very back, hands in his pockets, looking down at his own shadow.

Upon returning to the dormitory, Ye Ouyang first looked for a flowerpot. It wasn't large—a cream-colored ceramic one that had been sitting in the corner of the windowsill for who knows how long.

He squatted down and held his left hand over the flowerpot. The vine seemed to sense something; it slowly loosened its grip, its branches drooping down as its roots probed into the soil. Its leaves unfurled in the air, and a few seconds later, it stood steadily in the center of the pot.

Ye Ouyang poured a little water into the soil, then rummaged through a drawer to find a small bag of fertilizer, sprinkling a few grains at the roots.

The vine's leaves shivered as if experiencing a sudden jolt. He poured a bit more water. After a moment's thought, he picked up his phone from the desk, opened a music app, selected a playlist, and set the volume to a moderate level before placing it next to the flowerpot.

"The internet says plants grow faster when they listen to music," he muttered to himself, though it was unclear who he was addressing.

The vine did not respond. Its leaves hung quietly, occasionally swaying gently in the breeze from the air conditioner. Ye Ouyang stood up, watched it for a while, then lay down on the bed and pulled a book from under his pillow.

The cover was dog-eared and the pages were yellowed. He turned to the page marked by a bookmark, turned down the music on his phone slightly, and leaned against the pillow to read.

The vine sat on the windowsill, the soil in the pot still damp. Water droplets that hadn't dried yet clung to the leaves, sparkling in the warm light of the desk lamp.

Li Mo recorded the final line of data in his notebook and capped his pen.

The liquid in the test tube was pale gold, flowing slightly under the light like some kind of living substance. He held the test tube up to his eyes, rotated it, and then placed it back on the rack.

"This is an incomplete potion," he said into a voice recorder, his voice steady as if reading an experimental report.

"There is no decay equation, and it cannot metabolize itself. Unless it is forcibly sustained for a long period, the effects will not stop. Whether it can achieve the expected results still requires observation."

He turned the recorder off and then back on.

"Theoretically, as long as it is injected and the subject's cells are still viable, it can replace the dead parts based on those remaining viable cells. They become new cells."

He paused. "In other words, as long as the time since death is short and there are residual brain cells, the subject has a chance to be resurrected. However, whether they can retain previous memories after resurrection or become a completely blank new individual still needs to be recorded."

He turned off the recorder again, added a line to his notebook, and then set the pen down.

He stared at the pale gold test tube on the rack for a few seconds before reaching out to take it down.

Carrying the pale gold potion, Li Mo walked down the hallway and pushed open the door that required fingerprint authentication.

The room was very quiet, save for the low hum of the cooling equipment. In the center was a transparent hibernation pod. The infant inside had its eyes closed and body curled; its lips were blue, and its skin was as pale as a blank sheet of paper.

He placed the potion on the nearby workstation and took a small tissue sample from the sampling port on the side of the pod, examining it under a microscope for a while.

Most of the cells were already dead, with collapsed membranes and shattered nuclei, looking like stepped-on Jellyfish.

But there was still a small portion scattered throughout whose nuclear membranes were intact and whose organelles still had visible outlines.

He pushed the microscope aside, picked up the potion, calculated the dosage based on the infant's weight, and drew it into a syringe. The needle pierced the infant's sole, and the pale gold liquid was slowly pushed in. A small bump rose under the skin but quickly dissipated.

Li Mo set the syringe down, noted the injection time in his logbook, and then attached various monitoring sensor patches to the infant's chest, forehead, and wrists. The lines on the screen were flat.

No heartbeat, no brainwaves, nothing. He leaned against the workstation, staring at the screen, and waited for five minutes. After five minutes, the line on the screen jumped once.

It was a very slight jump, like someone plucking a guitar string with a finger. Then it went flat again. Li Mo's hand was already on the defibrillator; he adjusted the current—infant-grade, it couldn't be too strong—and pressed the electrodes against that tiny chest.

Shock. The body jolted. The lines on the screen began to jump; at first, they were weak and the fluctuations small, like a child just learning to walk, stumbling forward.

Then they became steadier and more powerful, finally turning into a regular, gentle wave. Li Mo wrote in his notebook: Heartbeat restored, normal levels.

The infant cried. The sound wasn't loud, like a kitten mewling, intermittent, but the chest was rising and falling, the lungs were working, and air was moving in and out.

Li Mo pressed a stethoscope to its chest, listened for a while, and then removed it.

He glanced at the monitoring patches on the infant and then at the data on the screen before writing another line in the notebook:

Respiration restored, conscious reaction normal. Appears to have a sense of hunger. Unable to determine if excessive appetite will occur as seen in previous samples. Continued observation required.

He closed the notebook and looked at the infant squirming and making small noises in the hibernation pod.

"Interesting," he said softly. "The first part of the Immortality Serum seems to be complete."

Li Mo pulled out his phone, found the number, and dialed. The phone rang twice before being answered; there was no speech from the other side, only the sound of breathing, very light, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"Something very interesting has happened." Li Mo leaned against the workstation, watching the squirming infant in the hibernation pod.

"The potion is complete. Of course, I'm not sure if it's reasonable—after all, it's a potion for resurrecting the dead. As a rigorous person, I cannot guarantee you that nothing will go wrong. However, I think you should listen to this."

He placed the phone next to the infant. The crying sound traveled through the receiver—not loud, intermittent, like a kitten mewling. The other side was silent for a few seconds, then came a long, suppressed breath.

"You really..." that voice was trembling, "you did it?"

"I did it." Li Mo took the phone back, his voice calm. "Same location as our last meeting. I will bring the child and hand him over to you. But if any special circumstances arise, you must tell me immediately."

"This is the first time this potion has been used on a human; I think you understand. Although it is only a chance, you have also undergone experiments and know how terrifying this thing can be."

He paused. "After all, you were an experimental subject yourself."

The other side did not hesitate. "I understand, I understand. Just give me the child."

Li Mo didn't answer immediately. He thought for a moment and asked, "Have you experienced a significant increase in appetite lately?"

The other side fell silent for a moment. "Yes. I feel like I've been eating much more than before."

Li Mo nodded, even though the other person couldn't see him. "That is one of the side effects of the potion. I'm worried..."

He didn't finish, changing the subject instead. "Alright. I will give you the child. Let's meet at the old place." He recited an address, the other side acknowledged it, and the call ended.

He put his phone away, walked to the hibernation pod, and picked up the still-whimpering infant. He wrapped it in a blanket, placed it in a portable incubator, and snapped the lid shut.

The indicator light on the incubator lit up green, pulsing steadily.

He picked up the case and walked toward the door. After two steps, he turned back, stuffed the notebook into his bag, checked everything once more, and then pushed the door open to leave.