With heavy objects falling on the ground and wailing, Ye Cheng woke up from his dream completely. He lay on the ground muttering something, as if complaining. Every time he reached the key point, he was smacked off, which was as depressing as the early death of a dystocia fetus.

"Who? Who the fuck kicked Lao Tzu? Stand up for me."

"Me!"

Ye Cheng blinked and looked from the quilt popping up his head in the direction of sound. The smell of disinfectant water came to his nose. He was too familiar with the smell, which belonged to the hospital.

No! How realistic is the grey-robed man's imagination? Even smells...