Hua Jing's eyes fluttered open.
She blinked once. Then again.
For a moment, her mind was blank—floating somewhere between sleep and confusion. Then slowly, her senses began to return.
A faint, rhythmic beep echoed in the background.
Beep… beep… beep…
She stared at the ceiling, but her vision was still hazy. Her head felt heavy, like it was filled with fog, and her mouth was painfully dry.
She shifted slightly—and that's when she felt it.
The tug on her arm.
She looked down slowly.
There was an IV line taped to the back of her hand. The tube snaked its way to a fluid bag hanging beside her. A pulse monitor wrapped tightly around her finger. Her arm was pale and felt strangely stiff, like it hadn't been moved in a long time.
What…?
She turned her head.
There was a machine quietly humming beside the bed. Another small monitor flashed her vitals in gentle green lights. Everything was quiet—too quiet.
No nurses. No bustling hallway. Just her… and the beeping.
