In the midst of her wandering thoughts, Qi Jianyi's chest suddenly tightened, an unexpected pressure settling there without warning. Before she could even process the sensation, a soft cough escaped her lips—quiet, almost unremarkable at first.
But then another followed, sharper this time, as if something deep inside had been disturbed. She instinctively raised her hand to her mouth, trying to suppress it, but the cough persisted, each one building on the last, becoming harder to stifle.
What started as small bursts turned into a series of involuntary spasms, just enough to make her throat sting. Her breathing grew shallow, interrupted by the relentless tickle in her lungs.
Each cough left a sharp, burning sensation, not violent but constant, like an echo that refused to fade. The discomfort settled in her chest, a weight growing with each strained breath.
