Li Yan feels that he is probably the most unlucky modern person in history.
One second ago, he was in a cramped rental house, staring blankly at the 37th rejected resume on the computer screen, holding a can of expired beer in his hand and muttering "God, please open your eyes." In the next second, God probably opened his eyes - but not in the way he wanted.
The world was spinning for a while, as if he had been stuffed into a washing machine and stirred three hundred times, and the acid water in his stomach surged up. Before he could curse out, his whole body was slammed to the hard ground by a brute force.
