First came the dream, then the fire meteors, omens, disappearance, death, then the black tree sap.
Bad omens one after another, seemingly unrelated, yet each connected to a certain word in a shadowy way, causing anxiety and sleeplessness.
At night, Zheng Qing lay in bed, looking through the balcony's small view of the night sky, seeing stars flickering in the black background like silent, watching eyes. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel those cold stares, turning over like needles on his back, growing increasingly restless.
He held onto the nightmare doll, worrying and overthinking, not even knowing when he fell asleep.
But when he woke up, the doll's head was still nicely attached to its neck, making him feel slightly better. As they say, a good morning sets the mood for the whole day.
Xiao Xiao, who did morning lessons with Zheng Qing, was the first to notice his good mood.
"Is there something good happening?"
