I, a Jiaoren, Just Want to Lie Flat

Jiang Mian felt that if "lying flat" had levels, he was at least at the "Grandmaster of Lying Flat" level.

Deep in the Coral Sea, in a trench nicknamed the "Salty Fish Retirement Home" by various sea creatures, he owned a house remodeled from a giant conch shell—a veritable "sea-view penthouse" in this retirement home.

The conch shell was big enough, spacious enough, and most importantly, its spiral structure caused the sound of flowing water to form a natural, hypnotic white noise. For Jiang Mian, who had dedicated his life to the grand goal of "sleeping until naturally awake," this was a divine dwelling.

At this moment, in a posture that defied marine biology, he was sprawled on a hammock woven from the softest seaweed. Half-closing his sea-blue eyes, he watched as rays of sunlight pierced through the seawater, transforming into soft, dancing beams that cast dappled shadows in his "living room."

A few round, faintly glowing Lantern Fish swam slowly beside him—his natural lighting system and emergency snack.

"Life..." Jiang Mian yawned, and a string of crystal-clear bubbles rose leisurely from his pale lips. "So simple, so unadorned, and so... boring."

His life philosophy was simple: if he could lie down, he would never sit; if one dried salty fish could solve a problem, he would never use two. Cultivation? That energy-draining activity was nothing short of a fantasy to him. Other Jiaoren pursued using their songs to control ocean currents and crystallizing their tears into pearls, but Jiang Mian just wanted to quietly stay here and research whether to have roasted seaweed or jellyfish salad for lunch.

A few days ago, he had picked up a pearl outside the trench.

The pearl was the size of a fist, warm and smooth all over. In the dim seabed, it emitted light on its own—bright enough to illuminate, yet not dazzling. Jiang Mian had no concept of treasure; he just thought the size and weight of this thing made it perfect for weighing down the lid of his "Supreme Seafood Noodles" made from Siren King Instant Noodles.

And so, this mysterious pearl successfully took up a post in the corner of Jiang Mian's "kitchen"—which was just another corner of the living room—becoming a glorious "instant noodle lid weight."

Today at noon, Jiang Mian decided to treat himself to a deluxe version of instant noodles.

He slowly slid off his hammock, floating like a boneless strip of seaweed to the kitchen corner. From a coral cabinet, he solemnly retrieved a treasured pack of "Deep Sea Demon Octopus" brand instant noodles—a rare item he had traded three strips of unusual deep-sea roasted fish for from the octopus uncle next door.

Tearing open the packaging, he poured the noodle block and seasoning packets into a large shell, then drew some "boiling water" from a constantly steaming seabed hot spring vent to pour in. Instantly, a bold, savory aroma filled the entire conch shell.

Jiang the Gourmet breathed in with satisfaction, then skillfully grabbed the pearl he had named "Little Bright" and firmly placed it on top of another shell serving as a lid.

Perfect.

He sprawled back onto the hammock, humming a tuneless melody as he waited for the delicious meal in three minutes. His singing had a peculiar magic—though formless, it brought a sense of inner peace and... laziness to the surrounding creatures.

Even the Lantern Fish serving as his lighting system slowed their movement, their glow growing drowsy.

Just as Jiang Mian was about to enter "meditation time before noodles," an aura—powerful enough to suffocate and completely out of place in this "Salty Fish Retirement Home"—unexpectedly enveloped the entire conch shell.

"BAM—!"

With a loud crash, the door, polished from thousand-year-old coral, was shattered into pieces by a violent current.

A tall, slender figure appeared at the doorway, wrapped in piercing cold and overwhelming pressure.

The person had jet-black short hair, neat without a single strand out of place, and a pair of golden dragon eyes so sharp they seemed to pierce the soul. He wore a luxurious, immaculate black-gold robe, its hem embroidered with intricate dragon patterns in gold thread—clearly expensive and absolutely not machine-washable.

Startled by the sudden commotion, Jiang Mian fell from his hammock. Fortunately, the seawater provided buoyancy; he simply spun in the water and steadied himself.

He rubbed his drowsy eyes and looked at the man at the door, who radiated a "keep away, workaholic approaching" aura. The first thought that popped into his head was: Who's this? Here to collect maintenance fees? Isn't this place exempt from maintenance fees?

The newcomer's golden eyes coldly swept across this room filled with an aura of "laziness," finally fixing on the pearl that was pressing down the noodle lid, emitting a soft glow.

At that moment, his already powerful aura became even more violent and... incredulous.

Jiang Mian even noticed that the uninvited guest's eyelid seemed to twitch.

This made him feel very displeased.

What? Looking down on my instant noodles? Or looking down on my "Little Bright" that's pressing the noodles?

This was blatant discrimination! Even a salty fish has dignity!

"You..." The Dragon Prince Ao Juan's voice carried a faint, barely detectable tremor. He extended a finger, pointing at the shell that was steaming with aroma, "You... you used it... to do what?"

Jiang Mian followed his finger and replied matter-of-factly:

"To weigh down the instant noodles. What else?"