"Lin Binghe? Hey, are you awake?" A voice pierced through Binghe's consciousness, cutting through the haze of pain that enveloped her mind.
She attempted to open her eyes but a sharp, stabbing sensation forced them shut again. Her fingers tentatively explored her forehead, encountering warm wetness. Blood? The thought drifted hazily through her mind.
"Hey, don't move yet. You're still hurt," the voice commanded, gruff yet tinged with unmistakable concern.
That voice... Binghe's thoughts struggled to align themselves. "Zhao Disheng? Why am I hearing that brute's voice?" The question echoed in her mind as she fought against disorientation. "Where am I?"
Fragments of memory began to surface, piecing themselves together like a shattered mirror slowly reforming. Suddenly, everything snapped into place.
