AD 2147. Dusk. In other words, it is the period of time when the light is relatively strong under this eternal haze.
Chen Xing woke up on the top steel frame of a 300-meter-tall abandoned signal tower.
The first feeling was cold, a biting chill that spread to his limbs and bones along the cold, rusty metal beneath him. The second feeling was a headache, as if countless thin needles were repeatedly piercing the cerebral cortex, trying to dig out something, and it seemed like they were suturing something.
