Li Mei had no idea how long she'd been sitting there. Her body was wrecked and, her mind foggy and disjointed. By the time she had accepted her reality, the sun was slowly starting to rise, casting a faint glow over the desolate alley.
Li Mei remained still, letting the cold seep into her bones, feeling every ache, every bruise, every broken piece of Shen Yelan's body as though it were her own. It was, after all, hers now.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the narrow strip of sky visible between the towering buildings that loomed over the alley. Deep in the shifting clouds, she caught a glimpse of a bird flying.
Her gaze slightly narrowed. The once-innocent gray eyes that had belonged to Shen Yelan now carried the cold, predatory glint of something that hunted in the shadows.
She had died, yet somehow, she was still alive.
Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was luck. She didn't care. Whatever force had dragged her back, she wouldn't waste it.
Her cracked lips curved into something that might have been a smile if smiles were supposed to make people check over their shoulders and reach for weapons. "The world better start praying for mercy."
Because she sure as hell wasn't planning to give any.
Li Mei, now Shen Yelan, took a deep breath. She forced herself to focus, her eyes scanning the alley. It was still empty, but she could hear the faint sounds of the city beginning to wake up. The distant rumble of early traffic, the occasional bark of a stray dog, and the soft murmur of voices carried on the cool morning air.
She tried to shift position and immediately regretted it when lightning bolts of pain shot through her mangled body. Every nerve ending was screaming at her to stay still, to not move, to just lie there. But she knew better than that. Help wasn't coming. She was completely, utterly alone in this mess. Sitting here feeling sorry for herself wasn't going to fix anything. But before she could even think about getting out of this alley, she needed to know exactly how bad things were.
She gazed at her arms which had multiple needle marks. Her gaze narrowed dangerously as she observed them. There were other surgical marks on this body as well. Multiple memories flashed in her mind, each more painful then the other.
She took a deep breath, supressing those memories. Then she looked down at her left leg, which was twisted at an odd angle. She gripped her thigh with both hands, and ith hard jerk, she forced her broken leg back into place. The pain was excruciating, a white-hot flash that threatened to make her black out. She bit down hard on her lip, blood seeping into her mouth as she fought to keep from screaming. Her whole body trembled like she was having a seizure, and for a few terrifying seconds, she thought she might actually pass out.
When the worst of it had passed, she leaned back against the wall, her forehead slick with sweat.
She looked around the alley, searching for anything that could serve as a makeshift splint. Her eyes landed on a couple of wooden planks from a broken crate and some discarded clothes. She crawled over. Every movement brought fresh pain to her body. She grabbed the planks. Tearing a shirt, she used the fabric to tie the planks tightly to her leg, creating a makeshift splint. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for now.
Next, she turned her attention to the other wounds that marred this body. Tearing more strips of fabric, she wrapped the deeper gashes as best as she could. It was a slow, painful process, and she had to pause several times to catch her breath and fight off the waves of nausea threatening to overwhelm her.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she had done all she could. Her body was still a wreck, but at least the bleeding had slowed, and the broken leg was immobilized. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment to gather her strength.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up, leaning heavily on the wall for support. She grabbed another discarded shirt from the pile of trash and pulled it over her head. The fabric was rough against her skin, and the shirt hung loosely, three times bigger than the small, fragile body she now owned. But she didn't care about the smell or the size.
Her gaze flickered one last time towards the shattered mirror on the ground before she walked out of the alley.
She looked around, staring at the buildings. The buildings were dilapidated, their walls colored with graffiti and posters. Based on the language on the old signboards, it looked like she was somewhere in R country.
A couple of men loitered near an old car parked halfway down the street. One was sitting on the hood, another held a bottle of cheap alcohol. There was one smoking a cigarette, the smoke curling up into the morning air. A fourth one leaned against the car, arms crossed. They glanced at her.
Shen Yelan took a step back before she turned away, limping forward in the other direction. Behind her, she heard those men following. She cursed silently, increasing her pace despite the white-hot pain shooting up her leg with every step. This body was already in terrible shape. She really didn't need to make it worse. But as luck would have it, the men kept following.
In this neighbourhood, crime and violence were common, so even when people saw the horrifying state of the little girl and the men following behind her, they looked away. Nobody wanted to get involved.
Knowing she had no other choice but to face them, Shen Yelan turned into another alley that was similar to the one she'd woken up in. She made it about halfway down before stopping.
"Little girl, you look like you've had a rough night." One of the men spoke in the R Country language.