Looking at everything in front of him,
Qing Yuan finally couldn't take it anymore, suddenly losing consciousness.
...
On the morning of May 10th,
on the bed in his bedroom,
Qing Yuan suddenly sat up, gasping for air.
Cold sweat had almost soaked through all his clothes.
There was a faint sound of drizzling rain outside the bedroom.
He steadied himself on the edge of the bed, as if he had not yet recovered from the dizzying experience, as if he had not yet recovered from the sudden sound.
After a long while, he grabbed a water bottle from his backpack and took a sip,
trying to push down his heart, which felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest.
He gently stroked the sword hanging on the wall for a while.
Then, he sat cross-legged on the bed again.
