The last thing He Xitang remembered was the imported red wine that had just been warmed in the apartment.
There were still water droplets on the wall of the crystal cup. She was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window wearing a silk nightgown. As soon as her fingertips touched the handle of the cup, a sharp pain like tearing suddenly came from her heart.
The night view of the city in front of him was instantly distorted, the bright lights turned into blurry spots, and the next second, his consciousness fell into boundless darkness.
There was no warning, no struggle, she died inexplicably at the age of twenty.
When he opened his eyes again, He Xitang found himself in a strange room.
The walls are pure white, and the floor is extremely black. There are no doors, windows, or furniture. There is only a silver platform suspended in the center that emits cold light.
The air was filled with a smell similar to that of cooled metal, and it was bitingly cold, causing her to subconsciously wrap the nightgown tightly around her body - it was the clothes she wore when she died, but it was still intact at the moment.
"Where is this?" She spoke subconsciously, her voice hoarse as she had just woken up, and there was a faint echo in the empty room.
The fear wrapped around the heart like a vine, not the kind of hysterical panic, but the suffocation of the unknown.
NPC?
