Lonely Swordsman

Squeak! Smack! Two starving mice, their eyes practically glowing green, were fighting on the roof beam when they suddenly tumbled down in a ball. Startled by the sound, Zhou Ang abruptly opened his eyes. The room was pitch black, save for a tiny window, less than half a square meter in size, letting in a sliver of dim light through the paper windowpane. But Zhou Ang couldn't see anything clearly. All he could see was pure darkness. He stood there stunned for a long time before gradually regaining his senses. His body reacted first, his brain registering how cold and stiff it had become. After another moment of stunned silence, he finally recalled the terrifying scene from not long ago. A speeding, out-of-control SUV had sped across the flowerbed divider and was hurtling towards him. Having finished his project proposal at eleven o'clock, he had been somewhat distracted, and the bright headlights had stunned him, completely forgetting he could have dodged. "Have I been taken to the hospital?" But this definitely wasn't a ward, because there wasn't a single light, it was pitch black, and there didn't seem to be that characteristic smell of disinfectant from a hospital. He tried to look around, but found that he couldn't even move his eyes, let alone turn his head. So... where am I? Just then, a thought suddenly popped into his head, startling him. Am I already dead? So this... is the morgue? But I'm clearly still alive! Oh my god... does that mean my heart might have stopped beating, and I was declared dead, but actually I'm not dead, and now I'm alive again in the morgue? After thinking about it carefully, considering his current environment, he felt that this was the most likely scenario. He just wondered if this hospital would do any further checks before cremating the body. Probably... they would, right? Thinking about it again, he didn't know how much time had passed since the car accident, but since he had even entered the morgue, they must have already notified his parents and Juanzi. "Yes, before they cremate me at the hospital, they'll definitely say goodbye to my body. They won't just burn me directly. Dad, Mom, Juanzi, you're probably heartbroken right now, but it's okay, I'm not dead! " Thinking this, Zhou Ang felt a temporary sense of relief, but he quickly realized he had no heartbeat? No, not only no heartbeat, he wasn't even breathing! At that moment, he suddenly realized something, and his soul went numb! It seems I am already dead! No wonder my body felt cold and stiff. But just then, coincidentally, perhaps because he had frightened himself, he opened his mouth and nose simultaneously, inhaling deeply. A moment later, his heart suddenly skipped a beat. Zhou Ang was overjoyed and instinctively exhaled. His heart skipped another beat. He inhaled and exhaled almost instinctively. His heart beat intermittently. At first, his body was completely stiff, each breath was incredibly difficult, and his heartbeat was slow and irregular. But after just a few breaths, his heartbeat suddenly accelerated, and his breathing became smooth again. He didn't know how many minutes had passed, but Zhou Ang suppressed his overwhelming joy, trying hard to control his breathing, feeling his heartbeat gradually increase in speed. Then, he felt his body less stiff, and his body was gradually warming up. He finally breathed a sigh of relief. But just then, as he slowly "came back to life," he suddenly felt a headache. The pain started very slowly, but as his body began to return to normal breathing, heartbeat, and body temperature, it suddenly intensified. In just a short while, he was convulsing from the pain. Countless fragments of memory were frantically flooding his mind. " My name is Zhou Ang. I am a scholar from Lingzhou County, the seat of Lingzhou Prefecture in the Great Tang Dynasty. I am eighteen years old this year. My father died early, and my mother raised my sister and me with great difficulty." At the beginning of the year, I accompanied my mother to Baoguo Temple to offer incense. I met a woman there, extremely beautiful, but it was only a fleeting glimpse, and I don't know which family she belonged to. Since then, I've been tossing and turning in bed… The current prefect values literary talent, but in all my years of reading and writing, I've always excelled at policy essays. I'm truly lacking in poetry and prose. It seems my chances of being recommended for the title of "Outstanding Talent" during this prefect's term are slim. I either need to start practicing poetry diligently now, or I can only wait for the next prefect. Last month, I visited Zou Shixin's home and was treated to a meal. The roast pork at Baoguo Temple was truly delicious! Unfortunately, I was too embarrassed to ask for some to bring back for my mother and younger sister to try. … Zhou Ang suddenly sat up in bed. His eyes widened, and he gasped for breath. The oil lamp had long since burned out, but the pungent smell was still faintly lingering. Time and space were reversed, everything was in disarray. By this time, his vision had mostly recovered. He turned to look at the window and could see a hole in the paper windowpane, but there seemed to be no moon tonight, and the little light filtering through the window wasn't enough to make out anything. Calm down, calm down, calm down… Zhou Ang tried to regulate his breathing and calm himself down. At least, not to panic. The situation was too bizarre; he felt he might be like those characters in online novels, dying in a car accident and encountering the legendary time travel. But now he couldn't see anything clearly, so he wasn't sure. Several more rats started gnawing on the rafters. The squeaking and squeaking sounded rather gruesome and terrifying. Zhou Ang's breathing was gradually slowing down. Hearing the noise, he subconsciously thought: It's no use. You should find another family to live in. You won't find food in our house, not even me! As he thought this, he subconsciously looked up at the rafters, but then suddenly remembered something: there should have been a basket hanging from the rafters. Thinking of this, he suddenly felt a surge of excitement, but his nature prevented him from acting rashly. He paused to consider for a moment, then took a deep breath. Using the faint light streaming in from the window, he turned sideways and reached for the desk beside the bed. Moving to the edge of the bed, and with his strength restored by the desk, he suddenly stood up. Reaching out, he found the flint in the familiar spot. Holding onto the desk, he felt further in and precisely located a shiny, oily object. It was the last remaining stub of the candle. He remembered that he only dared to light a candle for a short while when writing something very important. The smell of the oil lamp was too strong, not only pungent but also often causing his eyes to sting and water. He carefully but skillfully struck the flint after groping for the candle. In a few moments, the candle lit up. Watching the small flame dance joyfully, he gently exhaled, picked up the candle, and turned to shine it on the place where the basket should hang. It was there, indeed. Right where he remembered it should be. Zhou Ang stared blankly for a moment, then slowly sighed. Holding the candle high, he illuminated the entire room, and sure enough… a room both strange and familiar. He withdrew his gaze and pulled his arm back, holding the candle, staring blankly at everything before him. After a few minutes, he slowly sighed again. "It seems I really might have transmigrated." In other words, he was actually dead. But how did I get here? Well, transmigration doesn't seem to make much sense. However, judging from what just happened, the person I transmigrated into seemed to have died as well, which gave me a sliver of opportunity. How did he die? From illness? Murder? Or something else? Thinking about this, he suddenly felt a headache returning. Some memories and images seemed to be nearby, containing the information he wanted to know, but his brain seemed to be subconsciously resisting or rejecting them. Just thinking about them made his head ache. Zhou Ang raised his hand to rub his head, deliberately trying to stop himself from thinking about it, and only then did the headache subside. But at that moment, perhaps because his body was gradually recovering and his senses were becoming increasingly acute, he suddenly caught a whiff of rouge fragrance on himself. Suddenly, it felt as if something had been pierced. Countless memories and images surged forth. The first voice to ring out was a woman's, full of tenderness and allure, yet tinged with an indescribable air of haughty mockery: "You are about to depart! If there is an afterlife, do not hold a grudge against me!"