He didn't know how long it had been when Yang Xiao groggily awoke, his head spinning as if he had been fiercely clubbed with a big stick.
The ghost that had dragged him in wasn't usually this rough, and he wondered if his resistance this time had angered it.
He wouldn't dare do it again.
His dizzy and blurred vision made it hard for Yang Xiao to see clearly, only sensing a beam of light swinging back and forth, his ears buzzing with the sound of a voice talking—though mostly, he heard the pitter-patter like rain on a plastic bag.
The ground beneath him was hard and somewhat damp. Struggling with the headache, Yang Xiao slowly sat up, and someone else noticed the abnormality here.
"Someone's awake!"
He didn't know who shouted, but then footsteps approached, with several silhouettes flickering in the wavering light.
Finally, Yang Xiao made out that the oscillating light was an old-fashioned flashlight, cylindrical and encased in a silver-white metal shell.
