The poster of "My Fair Princess" on the wall was splattered red with a streak of blood, Li Yan stood on a rotting cat-faced corpse, humming "Matched Musketry" and searching through the supermarket's shelves with his head back...
"Ah, found it."
Li Yan tore open the paper box, which was full of Sony batteries. After fiddling for a bit, the Walkman holding Liang Ye's spirit finally lit up again.
"Do you really think I sing well?"
Liang Ye's voice came out from the speaker at the back of the Walkman.
Nearly a whole day had passed, and this was still what Liang Ye cared about most.
Li Yan thought for a moment: "Indeed not bad, if it weren't for this mess, maybe you would have made it."
As he spoke, Li Yan asked again, "Can you come out?"
"I can, but not for too long."
"That will do."
Li Yan collected the batteries from the box: "Let's go, I'll treat you to pickles..."
