The roar of artillery fire exploded in the ears, and the hot air carried the sweet taste of rust and blood, filling the entire nasal cavity.
Chen Ye suddenly jumped up from the bed.
His body was stretched like a stretched bow, and cold sweat soaked through the thin T-shirt on his back, sticking to his skin stickyly.
There is no battlefield.
There was just a complex smell of low-quality air freshener mixed with the musty smell in the corner.
The yellow water stains on the ceiling spread like map-like patterns, and the only window was swallowed up by the shadow of the building opposite, unable to let in any light.
This is a run-down rental house.
His hell is also his refuge.
Boom, boom, boom.
The knocking on the door was neither light nor heavy, with a rhythm that could not be rejected.
Chen Ye's body reacted before his brain, and he slid out of bed silently. His muscle memory instantly put him into a state of silence before preying, and his whole body merged into the deepest shadow of the room.
There were no footsteps outside the door.
