Cold is the only thing that can still be felt. It's not the coldness of skin touching the cold wind, but the coldness that seeps out from the seams of the bones, penetrates into the bone marrow, and then flows throughout the body along with the blood, carrying the smell of rust and death. Lu Mingfei was like a discarded bag of garbage, slumped on the tilted and broken deck of the "Monyach". Every weak breath caused a crushing pain in the chest, and the throat was filled with a strong smell of blood, salty and astringent, like swallowing a big mouthful of rusty nails. (I wanted to see the ending so much that I decided to write my own book. Dear viewers, you can understand it as another story in parallel time and space.)
