The last thing Qi Guan Galen remembered was the flickering incandescent lamp in the warehouse.
The heavy rain in September hit the iron roof of the logistics park, and the crackling sound seemed to overturn the entire warehouse. He was checking the last batch of fresh food orders on the computer when the GPS track of the cold chain truck that jumped on the screen suddenly turned into garbled code, followed by a dazzling white light - not the kind of light bulb that exploded, but like it was completely stuffed into the ultraviolet light tube of the disinfection cupboard, even the bone marrow was burning.
When I opened my eyes again, the rain was still falling, but the smell had changed.
There is no pungent smell of disinfectant water and diesel, only the smell of damp earth, mixed with a grassy and woody fragrance similar to wormwood. Qi Guan Galen struggled to sit up and found that he was lying in the mud, with gravel beneath him that hurt his bones. He subconsciously touched his waist - the phone was gone, and the Huawei Mate40 Pro covered with express delivery outlet stickers, together with the quarterly bonus envelope he had just received from the finance department, had all disappeared without a trace.
Instead, he wore this burlap shorts suit, the cuffs were worn shiny, and the trousers were stained with unknown brown stains.
