The cold liquid flowed into the blood vessel along the needle, and the infusion tube made me irritable.
I wanted to move my fingers, but my whole arm felt like it was filled with lead and I couldn't lift it. My eyelids were as heavy as two bricks, and I tried my best to tear them open.
The ceiling was blindingly white, and the air was filled with the smell of disinfectant, mixed with an indescribable rancid smell.
I stared at the fluorescent lamp for three seconds, and the memories in my mind slowly pieced together like fragments.
Dragon King Hall. Surround and kill. Thirteen thousand people.
Shen Nanfeng's face emerged from my memory - he smiled like a winner, the sword in his hand penetrated my chest, and the tip of the sword came out from the back, dripping with blood.
I subconsciously wanted to touch my chest, but what my fingertips touched was a hospital gown, not blood.
Skinny, soft, and powerless.
Whose fucking hand is this?
"Mr. Lin Bei, are you awake?"
A nurse in a white coat leaned over and almost dropped the clipboard in her hand. She rushed out and shouted: "Doctor Li! Bed No. 3 Is awake! The vegetative man is awake!"
Vegetative state.
These two words pierced my brain like a knife.
I looked down at my hands—as thin as chicken feet, with sallow skin and ash embedded in the nails. I lifted the quilt and looked at my body. My ribs were protruding one by one, my legs were as thin as flax stalks, and my muscles were terribly atrophied.
How long did I lie there?
