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Having regained consciousness, Li Lin reopened his eyes only to find it was early morning, with the mild morning sun casting its light through the window. The sunlight highlighted the fine dust floating in what was likely the dry air. Above his head, the ceiling was in a sorry state, with the blue sky and thin clouds occasionally passing through the holes.
The figure who spoke the foreign language was no longer by Roland's side, and he had no clue where he was or who that figure might have been. The only thing he could be certain of was that he had received the help that was within someone's ability to provide—judging by the condition of the dwelling, a thin blanket and a moist cloth placed on his forehead were probably all that the host could afford to offer.
Trying to move his body, Roland's stiff muscles responded immediately with sharp pain, and the dry and hard straw beneath him made him grimace in agony.
