A faint, blurry red light pulsed across the ceiling, like blood thinned with water.
His consciousness was dissolving into a black fog, threatening to obscure his vision. Fu Tailan blinked slowly, twice, before his mind could finally connect the sight with its meaning.
'That's... the light from a fire truck.'
He opened his eyes and forced them to stay open this time. The longer he listened, the more ominous the sounds from outside seemed… 'It can't be, can it?'
"You can let go now!" a muffled voice shouted from outside.
'Who are they telling to let go? Let go of what?'
Fu Tailan dragged what felt like a stranger's body to the window and looked down.
…'Should I call this predictable, yet surprising? Is Chaisi's luck really that good?'
'Or maybe I should just say that fate is a truly strange and ironic thing?'
In Fu Tailan's hazy consciousness, the next thought was doubly absurd:
