This was a bathroom in the ward.
Although small, it was crowded with several people.
The ceiling light in the bathroom emitted a ghastly white light, bringing a glimmer of brightness to this bleak world.
Zhang Han sat on the ground with his back to the bathroom door, looking very ill.
Fresh blood was dripping steadily from his back.
A blood-drenched body lay behind him, continuously struggling to break free, even attempting to attack him several times, but something seemed to be restraining it, preventing it from detaching from his body.
Zhao Kaiming stood there with a somber face.
Behind him, someone could vaguely be seen facing the wall and the darkness beyond, their back turned towards the rest.
