"My head hurts so much!"
Zhang Yexin woke up again, "The familiar ceiling... Wait, this is completely unfamiliar!"
His vision was filled with pure whiteness and his nose picked up a strong scent of disinfectant.
"Son, you've finally woken up!"
His father, who had been vigilantly staying by his side, suddenly leaned in, his face full of worry.
Such an expression, Zhang Yexin had seldom seen on his father's face anymore.
"What... what happened to me?"
He clutched his forehead, as the memories finally came flooding back.
The hot summer day, the flyers on the street, and then... those all-encompassing ghost hands!
"Ah!"
Zhang Yexin clutched his forehead, realizing that if he hadn't run fast, or if that woman simply hadn't cared about him, he probably would have died.
And that feeling of helplessness, like an ant in the face of supernatural power, was deeply etched into his heart.
Half a day later.
"Aye, what exactly happened?"
