1 a.m.
Hongfu Garden.
Zhang Fan had no idea how he'd gotten back; his head throbbed as if he'd blacked out from drinking, that searing sensation keeping him from falling asleep.
He felt utterly exhausted, but no matter what, he couldn't drift off.
The feeling was like torture, tormenting him at every moment—embracing unity and guarding silence did nothing to still the strange awareness inside him.
Zhang Fan had never hungered for sleep like he did tonight, craving the tranquility of dreams.
He clutched his head, as though to crack it open and see what demons were at play within.
"There are two bottles of sleeping pills in my desk drawer. If you really can't sleep, take one…"
Just then, Zhang Lingzong's words from earlier in the day echoed in Zhang Fan's mind.
Staggering, he stood up and went to Zhang Lingzong's room, opened the drawer, and there, indeed, were two bottles of sleeping pills—the writing on the labels faded beyond recognition.
