Lin Yu felt that his life was nothing but one complete disaster. He was like a diligent yet utterly pitiful ant, living every day as an overworked corporate drone in the sunless depths of a concrete jungle. As a low-level company employee, he saw no sunlight in his world, only his boss's icy face and sharp, arrow-like reprimands. Those cruel, cutting words were like tiny knives, stabbing at his heart again and again. His coworkers were no better. Their exclusion was like an invisible net, binding Lin Yu tightly and leaving him barely able to breathe.
Every night he worked overtime, the office's harsh white lights seemed to mock his helplessness. That night, he was working late again, his eyes bloodshot as his fingers mechanically tapped at the keyboard, like a soulless typing machine. Exhaustion surged over him like a raging tide, wave after wave, until his vision went black and he slumped across his desk like a heap of mud. In the depths of his darkening consciousness, his soul seemed to break free of his body and float weightlessly upward.
When Lin Yu regained consciousness, he found himself standing there, dazed, in a room that was both familiar and strange. He instinctively looked in the mirror. The face staring back was several years younger, and his eyes widened in disbelief. He pinched his arm hard. The pain was real, but he still couldn't believe it. "Am I dreaming? Or am I already dead?" he murmured to himself.
