Zhao Tianlong's voice floated down from above his head.
Zhang Yiming could smell the smell of his feet, mixed with shoe polish, sweat and blood, as well as the smell of burning cigars.
The corridors of this abandoned hospital are quiet.
It was so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat, thump, thump, thump, like a trapped beast hitting a cage.
"Brother Tianlong, don't trample him to death. Let him say something."
