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

The black moon hangs low. The hospital lights were as cold as shrouds. Three chains locked my wheelchair. All they saw was my broken bones. But I couldn't hear it—that piece of rock in my chest was still roaring epically. Tonight, the blood moon rises for the third time. "Hospital Rules" No. 007: After midnight, it is prohibited for a single person to drag blood stains in the ward passage. But I have to sign the death clause on the blank paper and sign my name - Ji Changsheng.