In the neon of blue and purple, under the thick steel sky, at the forefront of this surge of data, lies the world post-tech revolution. It's also the dividing line between reality and illusion. Steel and flesh, past and future. In this place, the world outside and inside coexist. Everything in front of us feels like a wall of time within reach. The darkness is slowly creeping in. But hey, my friend, you gotta know, we can't just counter darkness with softness. Gotta use fire.
Qing Huai lay quietly on the ground, staring up at the sky.
He covered his neck with his hand to slow the speed of his blood spraying.
It was as if by doing so, he could delay the time of his death and take his life back into his own hands.
The dark clouds had already dispersed, and the plants no longer paid attention to him.
After hours of fleeing, Qing Huai surprisingly felt a sense of ease at this moment.
He had simply been too tired before.
From a distance, the sound of footsteps approached, the soft sound of stepping on decayed leaves, sounding like a lullaby, Qing Huai felt himself growing sleepy.
Qing Huai turned his head to try to get a clear look at the young man.
But the young man did not come closer; instead, he crouched down far away, quietly waiting for him to die completely.
"Even at a time like this, he remains so cautious?" Qing Huai thought to himself.