At two o'clock in the morning, the fluorescent tubes of the anatomy laboratory sizzled.
Jia Xunyi stared at the skeleton of the teacher on the stainless steel table, with the scalpel hanging in mid-air. His throat moved and he couldn't make any sound - congenital lack of vocal cords made him accustomed to this kind of deathly silence.
But there was something else in the dead silence tonight.
My trouser pocket suddenly felt hot.
He frowned and took out his phone, the screen lighting up by itself. A blood-red APP icon is being installed automatically, and the progress bar is running like crazy.
