Kuanwang City, late night.
Rong Xiujie extended his right hand, touching the mirror. The reflection showed a pair of panda eyes, a scruffy beard, and greasy hair that hadn't been washed for a few days—a man who looked utterly defeated.
Yet, the once vibrant thirty-year-old Rong Xiujie had turned into this miserable shell in just half a month's time.
Half a month ago, he had a happy family, a positive work attitude, and an energetic aura. Everything was fine, barring a strangely dimmed Sun, which didn't affect his mood in the slightest—not even his trouble-making boss. That was until... he saw his wife and daughter lying lifeless in the morgue's metal cabinets.
His wife and daughter had been murdered!
Over the following week, he dreamt about them every night. At first, the dreams were warm, nostalgic scenes of a happy family, but in an instant, their faces turned deathly pale, devoid of life, their hands cold enough to send chills down his spine.
