Like a light briefly turned on, the tungsten filament gradually dims and fades after the light is off.
The price of being sleepless for three consecutive nights is as such—daytime passes in a flash, as if the hour hand has turned into a second hand.
Perhaps if this continues, Lu Li will fall into a perpetual night without daylight—or maybe at some moment, he will faint, waking up the next day on a hospital bed.
Before the last glow of dusk vanished, Lu Li found Kate, relying on contact with other patients to "resist" the rapid passage of time while fulfilling a promise:
"Get ready, we're going to the activity area."
"Did you do it?"
"Mm."
Kate stretched her curled fish tail, hanging it over the edge of the bed, revealing straight, sleek legs as it hit the floor like extracting from a cocooned sheet.
Lu Li watched, wondering how "delusion" could rationalize this scene.
