The scent of blood filled the air in Long Xiliang's hospital room, engulfing his nerves like invisible tentacles.
His brain was haunted by noises, the sounds from outside the hospital room, the noise of the entire hospital building—he could hear them all.
He had never liked hospitals.
The sounds of birth, aging, sickness, and death seemed like wailing spirits from Hell.
Long Xiliang suddenly closed his eyes, veins bulging on his forehead.
Lu Xiaoyou turned to look and saw that something seemed off with Long Xiliang's emotions.
She took a step forward, and when she approached Long Xiliang, the chaotic noises instantly disappeared.
"What's wrong?" Lu Xiaoyou asked him.
Long Xiliang opened his eyes, the dark pupils so deep that no intense light could penetrate them, yet they reflected Lu Xiaoyou's silhouette within their glass-like orbs.
He pulled Lu Xiaoyou out of the hospital room.
