Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Third watch - be careful of candles -"
The hoarse sound of gongs pierced the night.
Qin Xianyu opened his eyes suddenly.
Cold. Biting cold. He held a cold clapper in his hand, and an old lantern in the other hand. The dim yellow light swayed on the bluestone floor, illuminating the patched watchman's uniform on his body.
Wrong.
He is obviously dead. He died at the end of the day when the gods came, and was crushed into powder by a golden divine light.
Memory fragments surged: collapsed skyscrapers, wailing crowds, and the faces of gods hanging high in the sky, as cold as sculptures.
But now——
He lowered his head and looked at the calloused, red hands. These are not his hands.
"Borrowing a corpse to bring back a soul?" He muttered to himself hoarsely, his voice as dry as a broken bellows.
Before I finished speaking, my head suddenly hurt!
Countless unfamiliar memory fragments exploded: Wang Ergou, forty-two years old, a watchman in Qingshi Town, alone, under the old locust tree in the east of the town during night patrol last night...
What did you see?
The memory stopped abruptly, leaving only a thick, nauseating darkness.
Qin Xingyu held onto the damp wall and panted violently. The lantern almost came off.
Wrong.
He is not the only "thing" in this body.
