He had that dream again. In the dream, a thick blood color covered the sky, as if the sky was covered with a layer of misty red gauze, and misty white smoke filled the air, like the ghost world described by Pu Songlin.
As the white mist gradually faded, there were three coffins, made of black wood and black paint, without lids, dark as the entrance to hell. He did not wonder who the owners of the three coffins were, as if he vaguely knew the answer, but the floating beach in his mind close to the "truth" was too shallow and would be easily washed away by the waves. In his dream, he was like a prisoner with his hands and feet bound, he could only watch quietly, unable to approach or retreat. Until three dead bodies suddenly sat up in the three dead coffins, the sudden fear made him open his eyes immediately.
The first thing Yuan Xu did when he woke up was to pick up the phone next to his pillow. He looked through the call logs and found a call that came in around 3:15 last night. The number was unknown and the call lasted two minutes and forty-three seconds.
It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a dream. He received another call. This person, this person was still looking for him!
Yuan Xu threw down his phone, buried his face in the quilt, clenched his fists and let out a low roar that was drowned out by the thick cotton wool, as if he wanted to break through the surface and drill into hell.
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