The insomniac no longer made a fuss, clutching his fingers smeared with fresh blood, afraid to walk too heavily.
The fourth floor was eerily quiet, a dead silence pervaded, with no one in sight, and neither Xuan Wen nor Su Mo knew what the insomniac was afraid of.
They quietly moved about fifteen meters and stopped beside the room for the daily care of patients transitioning from critical to stable condition. The insomniac took out a large bunch of keys and fumbled for a while before he could open the door.
The overall decor of the hospital was in a light style, giving off a clean and bright vibe, but this ward was incredibly dark. The walls, floor, and blankets were all scribbled with irregular lines using pens. The black lines merged together like swirling vortexes, and staring at them for too long seemed to suck one's soul in.
