Chapter 1: Past and Present
Pain! Unbearable pain gripped Song Qingshu's body as he gradually emerged from his coma. It felt as though every bone in his body had been shattered, leaving him paralyzed and unable to move even a single finger. Memories of the oncoming truck that had thrust him into this state sent a chill coursing through his heart. Had he narrowly escaped death only to face a lifetime of confinement to a bed?
As his eyes fluttered open, Song Qingshu found himself in a hospital room. The surroundings were adorned with serene green curtains that hung motionless, untouched by any breeze. In the center of the room, a flickering white candle cast eerie shadows, illuminating a figure seated with her back turned towards him. She rested her chin on her hands, lost in contemplation, while her plain Tsing Yi attire was tinged with an unsettling air. Song Qingshu couldn't discern her face clearly, but the dim candlelight painted her in an eerie light. It was as if she were a ghostly presence, and anyone of a timid disposition would surely be terrified.
The woman in Tsing Yi seemed deep in thought, oblivious to Song Qingshu's awakening. Suddenly, a nun knocked on the door and entered, delivering a message, "Master, Mingjiao's advocate, Wuji, wishes to see you."
A visible tremor coursed through the woman in Tsing Yi, but she swiftly regained her composure. "Men and women must maintain their distance, especially at this hour. Tell him to leave," she replied, her tone devoid of emotion, yet carrying a haunting sweetness.
At that moment, a calm and determined male voice resonated from beyond the door, shattering the silence. "I possess considerable medical expertise and harbor no ulterior motives. I merely seek to heal Song Qingshu's wounds."
...
Song Qingshu, well-acquainted with the intricate plots of Jin Yong's novels, felt a chill run down his spine. If this weren't a period drama, the arrival of Mingjiao's advocate, Wuji, boded ill for Song Qingshu.
Startled by this revelation, Song Qingshu, roused from his coma by the severity of his injuries, slowly regained consciousness, his thoughts in disarray. He pieced together the fragments of the car accident, his face contorting with a mix of fear and disbelief. He had already been certain of his demise, yet he couldn't fathom why he now found himself lying here. The tone of their conversation hinted at a world reminiscent of Yitian Tulongji, and an unsettling sense of foreboding settled deep within him.
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