In the rental house at three o'clock in the morning, the low-quality lamps buzzed, illuminating the small space of four square meters pale. Jia Xiaoliu slumped on the swaying computer chair, staring at the screen with red eyes. There was still half a bowl of swollen noodles in Master Kong's bucket next to the mouse, and a layer of oily chopped green onions floated on the soup - this was his third bucket of instant noodles tonight, just to finish the last chapter of "The Secret of Tomb Robbery in the Republic of China". ?
"Damn, this author is so good at procrastination. He's almost touched the Imperial Tomb of Colonel Jin. Why is the update suddenly interrupted?" He refreshed the web page with a curse, and the time in the lower right corner of the screen jumped to 03:07. His eyelids were as heavy as lead. Yesterday, I worked for the boss Zhao Papi in the antique store during the day, moved porcelain bottles all afternoon, and stayed up late at night reading novels. Now my head was very dizzy and my temples were pounding. ?
He rubbed his eyes and was about to curse again when he suddenly felt his chest felt tight, as if there was a huge stone pressing on him, and it became increasingly difficult to breathe. The screen in front of me began to blur, and the illustration of "Bronze tortoise shell to ward off evil" from a tomb robbery novel rotated in front of my eyes. There seemed to be a strange wind sound in my ears, as if it came out of the ground, with a damp earthy smell. ?
"Fuck, didn't you die suddenly from staying up all night?" This was Jia Xiaoliu's last thought. He fell forward suddenly, hit his forehead on the keyboard, made a muffled "thunk" sound, and then completely lost consciousness. ?
…?
It hurts. ?
