The Immortal Commoner: Sowing Chaos

Another month gone.

Just like that.

Poof.

And what did Chen Feng have to show for it?

Absolutely nothing.

Well, not *nothing* nothing.

He had a slightly less crude table now.

Progress!

Though, if he was honest, the table was still more "flat-ish surface vaguely off the ground" than actual furniture. But hey, baby steps, right?

But seriously, an exit?

Nope.

Not a single crack, crevice, or suspiciously drafty wall that hinted at the outside world.

He'd mapped this cave system like a pro gamer maps a dungeon. He'd started with a crude charcoal stick and the smoothest pieces of cave wall he could find. Slowly, painstakingly, he'd traced out every passage he'd explored. At first, his map was a chaotic scribble, a mess of lines that looked more like abstract art than a useful guide. But with each passing day, and each new expedition into the shadowy depths, it became clearer, more defined.

Every nook and cranny.

Every twist and turn.

Every dead end.

And believe him, there were a *lot* of dead ends. He'd followed tunnels that narrowed into nothingness, chambers that abruptly stopped at solid rock faces, and confusing labyrinthine paths that looped back on themselves with cruel, mocking irony. Each dead end was a tiny pinprick of disappointment, another whisper in the growing chorus of "you're stuck here."

He even found some interesting side chambers. They were distractions, at least. Anything to break the monotony of endless stone and the gnawing feeling of being trapped.

One had weird glowing moss. It pulsed with a soft, ethereal light, illuminating the chamber in a strange, otherworldly green. He'd spent hours just staring at it, mesmerized by its silent luminescence. He even tried touching it. It was soft, almost velvety, and left a faint, cool tingle on his fingertips. Definitely not poisonous, he'd reasoned, judging by the fact he wasn't spontaneously combusting. Still, he refrained from tasting it. Immortal didn't mean *invincible* from stupidity.

Another had a pool of water that… well, he wasn't sure *what* it did, but it looked cool. It was crystal clear, reflecting the faint light of the plant cavern above like a hidden mirror. He'd tossed a pebble in, just to watch the ripples spread and distort the reflected image. He'd even tentatively dipped a finger in. Pleasantly cool, not freezing. Probably just regular cave water, he figured. Still, it added a touch of… something to the cave. A bit of unexpected beauty in this subterranean prison.

But exits?

Nada. Zilch. Zero. He'd searched high and low, scanned every wall with desperate hope, even prodded at suspicious-looking rocks with his makeshift tools, convinced that *this* time, *this* rock would be loose, would reveal a hidden passage to freedom. But no. Nothing.

It was official.

He was cave-bound.

Forever.

Or at least for the foreseeable immortal future. He knew he should probably be panicking, or at least feeling properly despondent. But honestly? He was mostly just… tired. Tired of searching, tired of hoping, tired of the endless grey rock. A strange kind of resignation had settled over him, a weary acceptance of his fate.

So, Chen Feng did what any reasonable immortal cave dweller would do.

He sighed.

A long, dramatic, cave-echoing sigh. It wasn't just a sigh of disappointment, it was a sigh of surrender. A letting go of the frantic hope of escape, of the desperate yearning for sunlight and fresh air. The sound bounced off the cavern walls, a lonely sound, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of centuries, even if he'd only been immortal for a month or two. He closed his eyes for a moment, just letting the echo fade, letting the sound of his own breath fill the silence that remained.

Then, he got back to work.

If this was his life now, then by golly, he was going to make it a *comfortable* life. He wasn't going to spend his eternity moping and staring at rocks. No sir. If this cave was to be his kingdom, then he was going to rule it like a king. A slightly eccentric, perpetually single king, perhaps, but a king nonetheless.

Forget escape.

It was time for home improvement.

First order of business?

A proper chair.

This rock he'd been using was giving him back problems. He'd initially thought the rock was a genius idea – readily available, sturdy, and already chair-shaped-ish if you squinted. But after weeks of using it as his primary seating, his lower back was staging a full-blown rebellion. Sharp twinges whenever he moved too quickly, a constant dull ache that throbbed in time with his… well, with whatever immortal beings throbbed with.

Even immortal backs could get sore, apparently.

Who knew? It was just another delightful surprise in the ongoing saga of immortality. It wasn't all endless power and epic battles, apparently. Sometimes, it was just… back pain.

He chuckled to himself.

Immortal and complaining about lumbar support.

What a life. He could almost hear the cosmic entities laughing at him. "Look at him," they'd probably be saying, "Master of Time and Space, Destroyer of Worlds… and he's worried about his posture!"

He picked up a piece of sturdy-looking cave wood. It was surprisingly light, but felt dense and strong. He'd gathered a small pile of it earlier, figuring it would come in handy for… something. Turns out, 'something' was ergonomic seating.

Time to get crafting.

He spent the rest of the day shaping and whittling. His tools were still crude – sharpened stones and sturdy twigs mostly – but he was getting better at using them. Practice made… adequate, in this case. He wasn't exactly Michelangelo with a chisel, but he was making progress.

Humming tunelessly to himself. The melody was something he half-remembered from… somewhere. A song from his past life? A tune he'd heard in a movie? He couldn't quite place it, but it was cheerful enough, and it filled the silence of the cave with a bit of… well, noise. Which was better than nothing.

Occasionally banging his thumb with his makeshift hammer. "Ow, stars and space dust!" he'd mutter, sucking on his throbbing thumb. (Immortality had its perks, but instant pain relief wasn't one of them). The pain lingered, a dull throb that served as a constant reminder of his clumsy craftsmanship. He was immortal, not impervious to self-inflicted injury. He'd learned that lesson the hard way after accidentally dropping a large rock on his foot during his initial exploration. That had taken a solid hour to fully heal, and a whole lot of frustrated grumbling.

As the… well, as the non-sunlight filtered through the plant cavern, casting long, shifting shadows, Chen Feng surveyed his handiwork. The light wasn't exactly bright, more of a gentle, pervasive glow, but it was enough to illuminate his progress.

It was… chair-shaped.

Roughly. Very roughly. Think 'chair' drawn by a toddler after being shown a picture of one, once, from a distance. It was asymmetrical, slightly lopsided, and definitely not sanded smooth.

Definitely not winning any design awards. Unless the award was 'Most Likely To Splinter Your Buttocks'.

But it was a chair.

And it looked a heck of a lot more comfortable than a rock. Even if it was just in his imagination. He'd convinced himself it was more comfortable, and that was half the battle, right?

"Behold!" he announced to the empty cave. He struck a dramatic pose, gesturing towards his creation with a flourish. "The Throne of… Cave-man Feng?"

He paused, considering. "Throne" felt a bit grandiose for a wobbly wooden contraption in a plant-lit cave. "Maybe 'Seat'?" He pondered the alternatives. "The 'Stool of Solitude'? The 'Bench of Boredom'?"

"Yeah, needs workshopping," he muttered. "Throne of Cave-man Feng" it was, for now. Catchy, if a little silly.

He plopped down onto his creation. He braced himself for the inevitable collapse, or at least a shower of splinters.

It wobbled slightly. A disconcerting side-to-side sway that threatened to tip him over. He held his breath for a moment, waiting for disaster.

But it held. Miraculously, surprisingly, it actually held. The wood groaned under his weight, but it stayed intact.

And… surprisingly, it actually *was* more comfortable. Significantly more comfortable. The difference was night and day. Or, cave-day and cave-night, anyway. His back immediately sighed in relief. He leaned back tentatively, testing its stability. Still wobbly, but definitely not collapsing.

"Not bad, Feng," he complimented himself. He patted the rough-hewn wood affectionately. "Not bad at all." He actually felt a surge of… pride? Satisfaction? In this tiny, insignificant act of creation. He had taken raw materials and fashioned something useful, something that improved his life, even in this desolate place.

Maybe this cave life wouldn't be so bad after all. Okay, maybe "not bad" was pushing it. But "slightly less terrible than previously imagined"? Yeah, that felt about right.

He still missed sunlight. The warmth on his skin, the vibrant colours of the outside world. He even missed rain, surprisingly. Being soaked to the bone wasn't so bad when you knew you could go inside and dry off.

And real food. He was getting tired of the bland, vaguely mushroom-y taste of the cave fungus he'd been subsisting on. He dreamed of juicy steaks, crispy fried chicken, even just a decent salad. Anything with flavor, texture, *variety*.

And talking to someone who wasn't himself. Conversations with his reflection in the pool were starting to get repetitive, and frankly, his reflection wasn't a very good listener.

But… he was alive. Immortal-ly alive. Which, he supposed, was something. A pretty big something, actually.

And he had a chair.

Things could be worse.

Much worse. He could be, say, trapped in a cave with *no* glowing plants and *no* pool. Or, even worse, trapped in a cave with nothing to *build*. Imagine the horror.

He leaned back in his slightly wobbly throne. Staring up at the glowing plants above. Their gentle light pulsed rhythmically, like the breath of some giant, slumbering beast. Or maybe just, you know, plants.

Thinking about what to build next. The chair was a good start, but it was just the beginning. He had an eternity, or at least a very, very long time, to fill. And he was determined to fill it with… stuff. Cave-stuff. Comfortable cave-stuff.

Maybe a bed? That rock slab he was sleeping on was even less comfortable than the rock chair had been. It was essentially just a slightly flatter rock. Luxury accommodations it was not. He winced just thinking about another night on that stony torture device.

Yeah.

A bed it was. A proper, raised, hopefully-not-too-splintery bed. That was the next project. Operation: Cave Home Improvement was officially underway.

And Chen Feng, the immortal caveman, was just getting started. He stretched out on his new throne, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He might be stuck in this cave, but by the stars, he was going to make it the most comfortable, most well-furnished cave in existence. And who knew? Maybe, just *maybe*, in the process of making a home, he might just stumble upon a way out. But for now, bed-making took priority.