Pain.
It was like being thrown into a drum washing machine, and even the bones and brains were smashed to pieces. Shen Wenyuan opened his eyes with difficulty, but what he saw was not the familiar white walls of the hospital, but... The mottled blue-gray tent ceiling?
There was a faint musty smell in the air, mixed with the bitter smell of some kind of herbal medicine. He moved his fingers, only to feel that his whole body was sore and weak, and his throat was as dry as smoke.
"Water... Water..." The hoarse voice came from his own throat, but it had an unfamiliar teenage feel to it, and there was a hint of weakness in the clearness. . . . . . . .
