Pain.
Excruciating pain.
It wasn't the sharp pain of metal tearing flesh and blood during a car accident, but an endless numbness and dull pain that seeped out from the seams of the bones.
The smell of rust mixed with rotten straw poured into his nostrils roughly.
Su Qingyu opened her eyes suddenly.
His vision blurred for a moment, then became clear.
What you see is not the pale ceiling or the roof of the ambulance, but the slippery, moss-covered gray stone walls. The air is filled with the lingering smell of blood and mold, like the last mark left by countless lives rotting here.
She moved her fingers.
"Wow."
A cold metallic touch came from my wrist.
Look down.
A pair of pale hands, with distinct joints, but covered with small scars and bruises. There were heavy shackles on his wrists and ankles. The iron chain extended out and the other end was nailed firmly into the stone cracks in the wall.
These are not her hands.
