Northern Hospital.
A great stone seemed to be crushing Ai Shengbing's chest.
Every breath was a knife-like pain, and his heart thrashed wildly in his chest like an untamed horse.
He lay weakly on the hospital bed, his vacant eyes staring at the ceiling.
It was a blinding white, just like his own increasingly pale existence.
He was only twenty-three, but the monster of his illness had gnawed away at his vibrant life until only a skeleton remained.
He was five-foot-seven, but he weighed just over sixty pounds—so light a gust of wind could have blown him away.
Six months ago, when Ai Shengbing first coughed and saw the bright red streaks of blood in his phlegm, his world began to collapse.
Back then, he was in the prime of his youth, full of hope for the future.
He had just graduated from college, found a good job, and was ready to make his mark.
However, the strangeness in his body was like a clap of thunder, shattering his peaceful life.
