A crow flapped its wings agilely and landed on the treetop.
The autumn wind was bleak, and the leaves of this tree had long since withered and fallen, leaving only the lonely branches.
The tree lacked vitality, and as a consequence, the insects that used to dwell on the trunk and branches in spring and summer were far fewer, which left the crow somewhat displeased.
But soon, its attention was drawn to another scent nearby.
It was... the smell of something burning.
The Taiyuan Prefecture sick house was on the brink of shutdown.
The isolation wards at all levels were filled with patients, their beds overflowing. So much so, that even on the square in front of the sick house, countless tents had been set up, packed with innumerable stretchers.
The sound of coughing, crying, pleading.
