The disinfectant stung his nose, mingling with a rusty, metallic stench that drilled straight into Ye Xun's head.
He leaned against the hard examination bed, staring at an old yellow water stain on the ceiling. It looked exactly like that troublesome fool from his old turf. Old Chen, the doctor with reading glasses whose fingers were always trembling a little, held a stack of colorful scans. His brow was furrowed so deeply it could crush a fly.
"Mr. Ye..." Old Chen's voice sounded like he was forcing the words out of his throat, dry and rasping. "The... the shadow-pattern disruption... it's still getting worse. When you came in last time, the active area was still... still about the size of a fingernail. Now... now there's only this much left." He held up two fingers to show a pitifully tiny gap between them.
