Afraid she would forget why she was here, she pushed onward, forcing her eyes wide open. She silently repeated the name over and over: Ling Zhiwei, Ling Zhiwei, Ling Zhiwei…
The tip of her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth, each syllable a reminder of her purpose.
She treated the name as an anchor, nailing it deep into her mind.
No matter how the scenery around her changed, as long as she could still chant this name, she wouldn't be completely lost.
The next time she opened her eyes, everything was white.
There were no shadows in her field of vision, no outlines, only a uniform brightness covering every corner.
Light poured down from above, devoid of warmth, and she couldn't pinpoint the source.
She blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden, stark whiteness.
The pure white ceiling was dazzlingly bright.
Its surface was smooth as a mirror, yet reflected no image.
She stared at it for a few seconds and got the strange feeling that it was slowly sinking.
