Even though he didn't know who saved him, didn't know where he was, or what the savior's intentions were... Even though his mind was a tangled mess, Xia Chuchen could clearly feel that his body was gradually improving.
From initially not having the strength to move a finger, he could now barely sit up on his own.
But getting out of bed was still wishful thinking.
The room had no view of the sun; unable to see outside, he had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing that told him time was moving at its eternal, unchanging speed was the drip hanging by his bed.
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock..."
Soft as a mosquito's hum, almost imperceptible.
He didn't know what kind of medicine was flowing into his body through the tubes, but it must have been aiding his recovery.
Even as he slowly recovered, Xia Chuchen still couldn't come to terms with his left pinky finger that had become part of him.
The room remained silent.
