Ye Chen's first thought upon opening his eyes was: I'm going to die.
No, to be precise, he should already be dead. He'd worked himself to death on a 996 schedule, collapsing at his desk with a cup of Americano gone cold still in his hand. But somehow, he could still feel pain. His back burned with a tearing sensation, as if someone had struck him hard with a red-hot iron rod.
“Cough...”
A mouthful of blood and spittle caught in his throat. Ye Chen struggled to push himself upright. Before him stretched a strange, blood-red sky, with two suns hanging in the western heavens, one large and one small. The larger one was blazing white; the smaller, dark red. In the distance, jagged mountain peaks looked like the fangs of primordial beasts.
“What is this...”
