There was no year in the beginning.
There is no sky, no earth, no light, no darkness. Even the word no has not been invented yet. There is only one group left.
A little awareness floated in that mass. Later, the world after tomorrow called her Hongmeng Yuanling, but at the moment she had no name - because the concept of a name itself would not be popped up for the first time until a young child who had just learned to speak a long time later.
She was just there.
Not existence. Existence is too strong a word, with weight, boundaries, and the desire to be seen. She doesn't have any of that. She is just here, like a seed that knows it is a seed but has not yet decided whether to germinate.
Did she count the time? No. Time is something that comes later. The sun rises and the moon sets, spring, summer, autumn and winter, dynasties change, the ink on the book of life and death dries up - these will all take a long, long time to appear. There are no clocks, no hourglasses, no year numbers. If I have to give her a scale, it can only be: she has been here for a long time, so long that the word "long" seems too small.
Then she did something.
Not moving. Not breathing. Instead of opening her eyes - she had no eyes.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
