The pungent smell of disinfectant woke me up.
I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry, and I was stunned by the thin crack in the ceiling. I am so familiar with this crack that I can draw its direction with my eyes closed. In my senior year of high school, I broke my arm and was hospitalized. I stared at it in a daze every day. Later, my mother said that this crack was the sign of this ward, and whoever stayed in it would be unlucky.
But why am I here?
My mind felt like a ball of paste had been stuffed into my head. I turned my neck with great effort and saw the ECG monitor on my right. The green wavy lines are beating regularly, and the sound of the beep is very soft, like some kind of urging countdown.
"Lin Zhi." A voice came from the left, making me turn my head sharply.
