In a Wheelchair, I Devoured the Entire Classic of Mountains and Seas

The black moon hung low.

The hospital lights were cold as a burial shroud.

Three iron chains bound my wheelchair.

All they saw were my shattered bones.

But they could not hear the legendary roar of the strange stone still inside my chest.

Tonight, the blood moon rises for the third time.

“Hospital Rule” No. 007: After midnight, no one may drag a blood trail through the ward corridor alone.

Yet I must sign my name on the death clause in black and white: Ji Changsheng.