Pain.
A tearing pain.
It was as if someone had rolled his brains in a meat grinder three times, and then force-fed a ton of ice water down his spine.
Duan Chen opened his eyes suddenly and gasped for air. What entered my eyes was the dazzling cold incandescent light, and my nose was filled with the smell of high-concentration disinfectant mixed with some kind of expensive aromatherapy.
He subconsciously wanted to raise his hands to rub his temples, but found that his arms were as heavy as lead. There were several IV tubes tied to the back of his hands, and the transparent liquid was pouring into the veins drop by drop.
"Fuck..."
Duan Chen let out a hoarse curse. As soon as the sound came out, he was stunned for the first time.
This is not his voice.
His original voice was as rough as sandpaper due to years of smoking low-quality cigarettes. But now this voice is deep, magnetic, and exuding a pampered and noble air.
Duan Chen, the top risk assessor in the industry, is codenamed "Lone Wolf". People in their profession have a sense of crisis a hundred times more acute than wild dogs. Three days ago, he was following up on an underground merger and acquisition case involving hundreds of billions of capital flows. He had just caught the tail of the mastermind behind the scenes. On the viaduct on the way back, a heavy-duty dump truck ran over his off-road vehicle without warning like crazy.
The desperate feeling of broken bones and ruptured internal organs still lingered in his nerve endings, but now he was not only alive, but also lying in a staggeringly luxurious VIP ward.
