On a rainy afternoon, Wang Teng, a college student, tiptoed outside the balcony - the soaked orange cat was huddled on the outside of the air conditioner, its claws clenched tightly, and its screams were so thin that they seemed to be cut off by the sound of rain.
The moment he reached out to grab it, the slippery tiles suddenly slipped, and his body fell out of the window like a kite with a broken string. The wind blasted in his ears, and the last thing he saw was the blurry sky in the rain.
When I opened my eyes again, the sunlight was so dazzling that the ceiling of the dormitory, the unfinished papers on the table, and even the withered pot of green radish on the balcony were exactly as they were in my memory. But when he habitually turned on his phone to search for the weather, the four words that popped up on the screen instantly froze his blood - the name of this world was the Burial Domain.
