"My name is Zhang Tong. When you read this sentence, it means that I have survived a night that I should not have survived."
After a supernatural incident, the world began to become unreliable.
Some kind of incomprehensible weirdness is silently eroding reality itself.
Darkness responds to the gaze.
Rain brings a curse.
Some places, once you step into them, will be stripped away from reality, and time, direction, and common sense will all lose their meaning.
Lonely, cold, and damp. This is the ghost's remaining breath, slowly but inextricably.
The ghosts have unfolded, and the countdown to death is counting down.
And all I can do is survive as long as possible to the next second.
