The night was deep, and the room was as silent as an ancient, deserted attic. Moonlight, having slipped through the curtains stirred by the breeze, lay upon the rusted and yellowing clock.
The minute hand moved ceaselessly, its ticking sound lingering, until it leisurely reached the upper right position.
Ke Mingye's eyelids twitched slightly, as if his biological clock had punctually triggered.
He first took a deep breath, then sat up, reached out to rub the Tianming Acupoint, and finally slowly lifted his swollen eyes to open them.
Ke Mingye had admitted to himself that there was a second when he had hoped to wake up back in his original world.
But upon opening his eyes, the first thing that caught his attention was still a red and black notification panel. He had grown accustomed to this mental pollution, like a curse tinged with the scent of blood.
