```
When Lu Ban woke up, he found that it was already late in the evening.
He was lying in bed, covered with a blanket, the window was closed, and outside the storm raged with snow and wind, yet it was as warm as spring within the room.
The blood on his face had vanished, and the wounds had long been covered and healed by plants, leaving no trace behind.
Sitting up, Lu Ban found it somewhat unbelievable.
He glanced around the bedroom, where two wisps of mist twined in a corner on the ceiling, and there seemed to be a vague figure sitting on the chair.
"Is it you?"
There was no response.
But neither was there any further response.
It seemed that it was.
In the past, when Lu Ban had an accident, those cohabitants in his house could only barely make contact with him and had to wait for his natural recovery.
