Hurry up, Huai Shi.
Hurry up, or else, everything will be too late.
Huai Shi panted, gripping the iron pick in the moonlit darkness.
Exerting all his might, shoveling the soil beneath his feet, drenched in sweat, yet he dared not stop, pulled by an invisible fear, unable to pause.
The shadow behind him expanded under the moonlight, grinning silently.
As if overlooking, it stared at him casting aside soil, sinking bit by bit, like digging his own grave.
Until his shovel suddenly struck some invisible object, sparks flew.
Huai Shi paused for a moment, reaching out a trembling hand, parting the soil, and glimpsed the iron stone heart already cold beneath the earth, someone chuckled softly.
So mocking.
When Huai Shi retreated in terror, a hand suddenly shot out from this self-dug grave, gripping his wrist tightly, amid the soil and dust, his own face emerged, looked up, and smiled at him:
"Huai Shi, what are you looking for?"
Darkness descended.
