Cold.
The biting cold penetrated into the seams of bones.
Gong Yuancang opened his eyes suddenly, and his eyes were blurry and pale. He was lying on a hard iron plate, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and some... Indescribable smell of decay.
He pushed himself up, and the iron plate clanged.
The vision is clear.
This is a room with pale ceramic tiles on the walls and pale fluorescent lights overhead. What he was lying on was a stainless steel morgue. On the opposite wall, there were more morgues neatly arranged, and the cold metal drawer handles shone with a cold light.
Funeral parlor? Morgue?
Why is he here?
My head hurt violently, as if a blunt ax was chopping inside. The memory is broken like glass shards, and nothing can be put back together. I only remembered that my name was Gong Yuancang, and then... It went blank.
He rolled out of bed and stepped on the cold terrazzo floor with his bare feet, the cold air reaching Tianling Gai. He rushed to the only iron door in a few steps and turned the door handle hard.
Not moving at all.
Locked from the outside.
"Hey! Is there anyone?!" He slammed the iron door hard, and his voice echoed in the empty morgue, with a panicking echo.
No one answered.
He ran to the only window, which was high and had a strong iron grating. Standing on tiptoes, looking out through the dirty glass——
