Chapter 3: Dead, But Not Entirely

Beep... beep... beep...

"The patient's vital signs are extremely weak; there are extensive rib fractures and severe hemothorax!"

"What's the blood oxygen level?"

"The airway is blocked, blood oxygen is nearly zero! We need to perform a vascular incision!"

"The limbs are blackish-purple, looks like poisoning symptoms. We need a blood test!"

"Doctor, please save him, I beg you!"

—

With great difficulty, Zi Jin forced his eyes open, squinting into a narrow slit. The world before him was a blur, as if he were on the way to the emergency room, white lights glaring overhead, making him feel drowsy. His ears buzzed, as though someone had clamped a glass tank over his head. Amid the noise, he could just make out the doctors running and rattling off a list of his fatal injuries, along with the sound of someone sobbing incessantly.

Am I dying? Zi Jin wondered, but no matter how hard he tried, his body would not move. His limbs felt filled with molten lead, unbearably heavy and aching. The searing pain forced another low, guttural cry from his throat.

"The patient's vitals are plummeting—no time left. Get the ventilator, now!"

Beeeeeeep—

Everyone froze. Wang Jinjun stared in shock at the blood-soaked hospital bed, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

"Zi Jin... you bastard... how could you just leave like this? Weren't you supposed to bring me milk tea...?"

The room fell into a heavy silence. Only the attending emergency doctor stepped forward and gently patted Wang Jinjun's shoulder.

"Miss, we've done everything we could. The dead cannot return. Please accept our condolences. Stay with him for a while longer. Once you're ready, sign the paperwork and we'll arrange for the funeral home." With that, he led the others away, leaving Wang Jinjun alone with Zi Jin in the corridor for a final moment together.

Wang Jinjun remembered the mischievous grin Zi Jin wore before leaving home, how he brought her little surprises every day, how they'd leaned on each other for over twenty years—scrounging leftovers from stray cats, fighting with scavengers over empty bottles, brawling with thugs to protect her. Later, both of them were taken to the orphanage, and life improved a little. Yet Wang Jinjun still clung to Zi Jin's side every day, always able to see the stubbornness and resilience shining through his dirty, snot-streaked little face...

But now, all of that was gone.

There would never again be anyone named Zi Jin to care for her.

Wang Jinjun shuddered uncontrollably, her grief so overwhelming she nearly fainted. She clung to Zi Jin's lifeless body, sobbing loudly.

What the hell is going on—am I dead?

In some unknown corner, Zi Jin's consciousness seemed to drift out of his body, gazing blankly at the scene before him.

"Logically, I should be dead—so why can I still see what's happening? What's going on?" Zi Jin wondered, glancing at his own hands. As he suspected, there was only a faint, nearly transparent outline. There was only one explanation: he really had been killed by that car!

Zi Jin couldn't believe it—just like that, he was dead. But he found he couldn't get within five meters of his own body, only able to stare from afar at his corpse and at Wang Jinjun. He tried to reach out, to stretch forward with all his might. He couldn't die here!

His instincts told him that if his consciousness could return to his body, he might not actually die!

He tried every angle to approach his own body, and found that, little by little, he was closing the gap. His heart leapt—there was hope!

Jinjun, wait for me. I'm coming back!