Chapter 1111 — The Retired Dragon God

The subject of the tower was finally closed. Gao Yang had no wish to linger in the grave, heavy mood such talk produced, so he shook his head and turned to Enya with something lighter—something that had been on his mind: "By the way, there's something I've wanted to ask since a moment ago. You say your power has declined drastically and many 'authorities' have been lost. So how much strength do you have left? How many wonders are still within your reach?"

Enya did not answer at once, but the aura radiating from the shell clearly thickened for an instant—plainly she had not expected Gao Yang's attention to land there. After a moment, a mild, low voice came from the egg: "Why do you ask? Do you mean to use my power for something?"

I want your help making cola.jpg.

But that really could not be said aloud.

Gao Yang cleared his throat twice and tried to make his expression serious: "I'm simply curious. Authorities classed as 'miracles,' like the Reflection—do you still retain them after severing your divinity and departing your office? With nothing but a mortal frame, can you still produce a Reflection?"

"You want to probe whether a god, having left its office, can reproduce a 'miracle' using only the strength and knowledge that remain?" The voice from the shell turned earnest at once. "Ah... that is a line of thought I have never considered. As expected—only you would notice such a direction. Worth studying. This genuinely deserves study; I believe I have something to occupy myself with for a while... Though there are many kinds of 'miracles,' and one that can only be used to make beverages has little research value. I might begin with something el—"

"Begin with the Reflection," Gao Yang said beside him, his face perfectly solemn. "We should proceed step by step."

"What I mean is... the Reflection is certainly wondrous as a 'miracle,' but the technical difficulty is insufficient. I have better candidates to start w—"

Gao Yang's face was grave: "Begin with the Reflection."

Enya: "..."

Gao Yang: "..."

From the golden egg came a sigh of remarkable humanity: "Just tell me plainly. What flavor do you like?"

Gao Yang's expression twitched slightly, and he rubbed the tip of his nose, somewhat embarrassed: "It's hard to describe..."

"A flavor from home... You mentioned it before, didn't you? The homeland flavor of the Wanderer from Beyond?"

Gao Yang thought about it, and at last could not help laughing softly; the forced gravity of before gave way to something easy: "...You could put it that way."

"Then it seems there's no shortcut... I can try, slowly, to recreate that delicious 'miracle,'" Enya said, a note of resignation in her voice, then a flicker of surprise. "But I truly never imagined that the Wanderer from Beyond had such an emotional and... approachable side. I took you for eternally cold and rational, like a machine or a rune. How interesting... You were nothing like this the last time we spoke."

"The way you talk sounds more like you're describing a god, but from the very beginning I've always leaned toward the 'human' side," Gao Yang spread his hands. "As for why it was different last time and different this time, the reason's simple: last time I was talking with the gods of the dragon race. This time... you're Enya."

The giant golden egg fell silent, then suddenly asked, "That 'taste of home' of yours—is it served with ice?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now I have something to work toward."

Gao Yang thought it over a moment and couldn't shake the feeling that something about the direction this was heading was off—but on closer reflection, he couldn't see anything wrong with it either.

He hadn't wanted Enya, this "god of the old days" whose situation was so exceedingly peculiar, to come into contact with his deeper, more essential secrets too soon anyway, and for the near term he really did need to find her something to do. Weighing the two considerations together, she now had a goal that looked harmless enough... All in all, this development was rather good.

Besides, he had already quietly arranged this former god's "network testing project." For some time to come, he didn't intend to assign her anything more—this was to ensure the "purity" of the samples in the testing process.

Just then, a sound of footsteps suddenly came from the direction of the corridor, interrupting the conversation between Gao Yang and Enya.

The door of the hatching chamber was pushed open, and Betty appeared before Gao Yang carrying a large tray—the maid wore a happy expression, and as she came into the room she said, "Master, Lady Enya—I've brought the tea and snacks!"

"You came at just the right time," Gao Yang said to Betty. "I haven't had tea you've brewed in ever so many days."

Cola was all well and good, but the fragrance of good tea at home was just as wonderful.

Betty accepted the praise happily. First she handed the first cup of black tea to Gao Yang, then, right in front of him, she picked up the teapot and came over to Enya, and with great practiced ease poured the scalding tea down over the eggshell...

Gao Yang stood holding his teacup, staring at the scene with his mouth agape.

He had indeed heard the rumors about Betty "watering" Enya, but he had never imagined that this so-called "watering"... was truly just this crude and simple? Was this really how the girl watered her every day? And Enya... why did it look like she was actually enjoying it?

Gao Yang suddenly found the teacup in his hand felt strange to the touch, and he understood completely now where the faint tea fragrance on Enya's shell came from... She'd been marinated through and through!

"Master?" Even slow as Betty was, after pouring half a pot of tea she noticed Gao Yang's gaze. She turned her head, somewhat puzzled. "What is it?"

The corner of Gao Yang's mouth twitched twice, and he truly couldn't hold back: "Betty... are you making tea eggs?"

Betty looked utterly bewildered. "What's a tea egg?"

"A kind of food... never mind, I can't explain it to you," Gao Yang said, covering his forehead. "Pretend I didn't say anything."

"Oh." Betty gave an "oh," and since her master didn't want to talk about it, it seemed this matter wasn't worth fretting over—she quickly set this puzzling thing aside, and then, following her usual routine, pulled the soft cloth for wiping the egg from her pocket and began polishing Enya's shell.

A creak-creak sound rose in the hatching chamber, and Gao Yang, who had finally managed to lift his teacup, instantly set it down again. "...You do this to her every day too?!"

Betty stopped again, all bewilderment. "What does 'do this to her' mean?"

Gao Yang: "..."

(This is my final ripple...)