"Huff... puff, huff... puff..."

The young man lying in bed suddenly opened his eyes, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, his eyes bulging, as if waking from a terrifying nightmare.

The incandescent lamp above his head flickered blindingly.

Apart from that.

There were a few faces wearing white masks, hovering above, staring directly down at him.

Was the nightmare not over yet?

The young man closed his eyes and then opened them again, everything remained the same, the visual palette still so cold and quiet.

It was clear.

This was not a dream.

Or rather.

Everything in his "dream" was not a dream either.

A person in a white mask glanced at the device next to him and then nodded.

Subsequently, the faces hovering above the young man gradually moved away.

The young man opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but was unable to make any sound; it turned out his face was covered with an oxygen mask.

Not only that, his arms were inserted with tubes, the other end connected to an IV bag hanging on a stand, silently dripping an unknown fluid.

Is this a hospital?

The young man, likely in a hospital ward, wanted to lift his hand but was too weak. Although he had been rescued from the gates of Yama's office, the dual traumas to his body and mind had severely damaged his health.

He had awakened, but his thoughts could not function normally.

The reality before his eyes and the images of people being shot one by one in the warehouse vied for attention, finally freezing on the scene of Cai Jian's tragic death.

This was the last memory in his mind.

Footsteps sounded.

No one paid attention to him.

The young man tried to lift his head, only to see the masked people leave.

Even such a simple action could only be maintained for a moment before his head fell back in futility. Unable to make a sound and immobile, he could only try to organize his mind.

Cai Jian was dead.

His cousin died too.

But who were those other people who were also killed?

And who brought him here?

One question after another rushed at him, battering his nerves. The young man breathed heavily, sweat pooling on his forehead.

"Calm your mind, child, you're like a machine ready to fall apart at any moment, so don't make it work anymore."

At some unknown point, someone walked in, similarly masked, but different from those he had seen earlier.

Xia Chuchen stared at him, and could only stare.

The man raised his hand, thick hair covering its back, and gently removed the oxygen mask from Xia Chuchen's face.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Only able to lie in bed, Xia Chuchen nodded with difficulty, opened his mouth, slow and hoarse, "Who... are... you?"

"When asking about others, you should first introduce yourself. It's basic courtesy. Child, who are you?"

Xia Chuchen definitely hadn't experienced anything like this before—confused, dazed.

Who is he?

Not even knowing who he is, why did these people save him?

"Xia, Chu, Chen."

Xia Chuchen painfully uttered his name, not knowing how to introduce himself. He was ordinary, just another face in the crowd, with no important information.

The other side surely wasn't interested in a meaningless name, but perhaps considering his current state, didn't press him, and pulled out a photo.

"What is your relationship with this person?"

Xia Chuchen's gaze gradually moved upward, looking at the young man in the upright photo.

"I don't know him."

"You don't know? Then why is he looking for you?"

Looking for me?

Xia Chuchen's mind was more muddled, as if countless whirlpools were swirling. He stared at the photo, trying hard to think, yet still found it utterly unfamiliar.

"I haven't seen... him, who is he?"

Alright then.

Playing a game of passing the ball, indeed.

"He is a remarkable person. Whether you know him or not, you should remember him."

After speaking, the man put the photo away, not in a hurry to continue questioning.

This was a critically injured patient with both body and mind ravaged.

Patience was necessary.

"Your finger, we didn't have enough time to reattach it."

Hearing this, Xia Chuchen finally recalled.

His hand!

He strained to look down.

"But we found you another one."

Xia Chuchen's gaze focused where the voice by the bedside ended, his pupils involuntarily trembling.

He saw it.

His severed pinky was shockingly still on his left hand, albeit with a ring of stitches.

No.

Not intact!

Not just the alarming stitches.

His little finger was clearly an inch longer, unlikely to be noticed by outsiders, but his own body, he knew intimately!

This was not his finger!

Xia Chuchen's whole body went cold, the heartbeat waves on the monitor becoming steep.

"No, I don't want..."

Although he'd witnessed stunning scenes rare even in movies, in the end he was just a newly adult young man, immediately wanting to tear off that terrifying finger, but completely powerless and unable to move.

"Calm down, adjust your breathing, it may feel odd, but it's better than nothing. You're so young, losing a finger would be tragic; it can contribute more on your body."

Fingers, can they be replaced?!

Everything he was experiencing was completely beyond Xia Chuchen's understanding of over a decade of life.

"Where is this place?"

"This is a refuge."

"Alright, you need to rest now, empty your mind, don't think of anything or be afraid, you are absolutely safe here."

Having said that, the man put the oxygen mask back on him, and Xia Chuchen could no longer speak, only able to watch helplessly as the man turned and walked away.

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