Ma Shaoshan, not waiting for Li Liutian to reply, dashed into the distant restroom.
He squatted in front of a toilet, wanting to scratch but unable to reach.
"Ah!"
Ma Shaoshan's face twisted with unbearable discomfort, the kind of agony everyone has tried to ignore, that itch on one's body you just can't scratch.
And that was just an ordinary itch.
This sensation was intolerable.
Ma Shaoshan felt his scalp tingle numbly.
His mind went blank; he couldn't think of anything but the itch.
"Awoo!"
Ma Shaoshan cried out.
It felt like countless ants crawling and gnawing on his skin.
"Ah!"
Ma Shaoshan lay on the ground, his body writhing in madness, each second a torment.
It wasn't even a minute, and he felt like he was going insane.
He immediately called Li Liutian, asking him to pick him up and return home, preparing to go to the hospital.
A dreadful thought haunted him; he wondered if he had contracted an infectious disease.
