Last time, Jiu Zhou was there too.
Last time, she killed someone.
On countless nights, the moment she closed her eyes, she could relive the scene from back then.
On countless nights, the moment she opened her eyes, she'd be drenched in cold sweat, her whole body rigid, as if she'd been yanked back to that exact moment.
Sometimes she felt it was an illusion.
And now, she also felt like she was trapped in an illusion.
She couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, but there was one thing she knew with absolute clarity—no matter where she was, no matter what state she was in, she always knew very clearly what she should do next.
...
The rain wasn't heavy, and the sound of it falling through the jungle was very faint.
But when the fine raindrops gathered on the leaves and branches overhead, merged into beads of water, and then fell at some random moment, the sound and movement were enough to startle a person for no reason.
Yu Yitong didn't speak.
