My head felt like it was going to explode.
Meng Yuan opened his eyes. The ceiling in front of him was yellow, a large piece of the wall had fallen off, and there were cobwebs in the corners. He was lying on a hard bed, the quilt was as thin as paper, and the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat mixed with his body made him want to vomit.
Pain.
There was a throbbing pain in the back of my head, as if someone had hit me with a brick.
He sat up slowly. The room was dark and the curtains were tightly drawn. The table was piled with cigarette butts, the ashtray was filled with yellowed cigarette butts, and next to it was half a bowl of soaked instant noodles. No one cared about the hair growing.
