The air here is filled with a musty paper smell and a faint sour smell of preservatives all year round. The old-fashioned incandescent lamp above his head made a "sizzling" sound of electricity, and the dim light stretched Chu Jue's thin shadow to an elongated length, like a twisted monster lying on the ground.
"Crack."
Chu Jue casually threw a yellowed file into the brown paper bag in front of him and rubbed his brows with his slender fingers. There was a heavy dark blue under his eyes, which he got from working the night shift all year round. As the lowest-level administrator of the archives, his daily life is to deal with these dusty "historical garbage".
But today, the "junk" in his hands was a bit hot.
On the cover of the portfolio, four large characters were stamped in faded red ink: Cien Hospital.
"This damn data..." Chu Jue cursed in a low voice, his voice echoing in the empty basement. He is an absolutely rational person, and he usually doesn't even bother to say a bad word, but the set of data he accidentally glimpsed just now made even a cold-blooded geek like him feel chills running down his back.
