林风觉得，自己大概是疯了。

他摸着隐隐作痛的后脑勺，使劲晃了晃脑袋，试图甩掉那种钻心的剧痛。视线模糊了一阵，他定了定神，发现自己正躺在一家破破烂烂的小旅馆的炕上。

“操……”他吐了个脏字，挣扎着想坐起来，却发现浑身酸软无力，一点力气使不上。低头一看，身上穿着一套陌生的灰色睡衣，质地粗糙得像是从垃圾堆里捡出来的。

这是哪儿？

林风脑子嗡嗡作响，混乱的记忆碎片不断涌现。他记得自己昨天还在熬夜打游戏，被队友疯狂喷了几句，一气之下关掉电脑，想着去酒吧解酒，结果……后面的事就有些模糊了。

难道是喝多了，然后被车撞了？还是说，他死了？真特么死了？

林风心里咯噔一下，脸色瞬间煞白。他使劲掐了自己大腿一把，剧烈的疼痛感让他倒吸一口凉气——好像……是真的。

“靠！”他低声骂了一句，开始仔细检查自己。除了身上这套衣服，啥都没有。钱包、手机……全特么不见了！这让他彻底懵逼了。现在怎么办？钱都没有，怎么活？

林风 starts to despair. He looks around the room, finding it small and messy, with a musty smell. The bed is old and worn, the sheets are faded and stained. There's nothing else in the room except for an old, beat-up wardrobe and a small, dusty desk.

As he ponders his situation, the door to the room creaks open, and an old, wrinkled woman walks in, holding a mop and bucket. She glances at Lin Feng, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Who are you? You're not one of my regular guests," she says, her voice raspy and gruff.