When Luo Xinghe opened his eyes, his head was buzzing, as if someone had hit him on the back of the head with a hammer.
Pain.
It fucking hurts.
He subconsciously wanted to reach out and rub it, but as soon as he raised his hand, a sour smell penetrated his nose. I looked down and saw, my dear, my hands were as black as if I had been digging coal for three days. There was mud between the fingernails, and there were a few scabbed wounds on the back of my hands. They looked shabby.
