In that stifling temporary office in Belize, Li Wenbin suddenly woke from the pile of documents he was lying on, clutching his chest as his heart pounded intensely.
He just had a vividly clear nightmare, Ma Guoming was drenched in blood, fallen on the familiar streets of Xiangjiang, staring at him fixedly, with one hand stretched out, his lips moving as if trying to say something, but unable to make any sound, only a stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. That despairing gaze pierced through Li Wenbin's dream like an ice pick.
"Old Ma!"
Li Wenbin shouted in a low voice, his body shivering violently from the sudden awakening, almost sliding off the chair.
He held the table firmly with both hands, gasping for air, his forehead drenched in cold sweat, and his eyelids twitching incessantly.
"Damn..."
He rubbed his face vigorously, trying to dispel the sudden palpitations and unease, muttering to himself, "Must be too tired, what a damn nightmare."
