Lin Fan's eyelids trembled and opened.
He stared blankly at the sky above him, pupils unfocused, breath shallow. For several seconds, his mind failed to catch up with reality.
"…What the hell?"
His voice was hoarse, unfamiliar yet familiar to himself.
"Where… am I?"
He struggled to move his fingers.
He felt warm.
Alive!
A sharp jolt ran through his spine.
"…Didn't I die?"
His breathing quickened. He sat up abruptly, only for pain to shoot through his abdomen, forcing a sharp hiss from his lips.
"—Tch!"
But the pain grounded him.
This place. The lake. Those couples' benches. The memory overlapped perfectly with the moment before he lost consciousness.
Slowly, dread turned into disbelief. Then disbelief turned into realization. His eyes widened, "…No way."
He looked down at his hands. They were young, like his young self, uncallused. His arms were still slender, unruined by the years of labor.
