Fortunately, the infiltration of the filling liquid is extrely slow. During this process, the temperature rises very slowly, and the man’s physical abilities gradually recover.
Actually, in the last few years, he was no longer in true hibernation. It was entirely like sleeping naturally, with normal age growth, and he slept through several years.
Just like the sleeping beauty in fairy tales, except... now his appearance is really too shabby.
"Cough cough cough cough cough cough!"
Another bout of violent coughing, and in a fluster, the cover of the Hibernation Pod lifts up, and the man inside sits up, wiping his face.
"Hiss, it hurts!"
His face and nails both hurt.
His beard also hurts.
He takes a closer look and finds his fingernails have grown like a zombie’s, curling several tis! Abnormally terrifying.
He touches his hair, which is very long and ssy, resembling a savage from the wilderness.
The beard by his mouth explodes like an old grandfather’s, soft and thick to the touch, like a cushion, hanging down to his chest.
"Who am I, exactly?"
The man looks around the underground bunker, which resembles ruins, unable to recall anything.
He takes a few steps forward and discovers a shiny trash can, perfect for using as a mirror to check his reflection.
In the...
Hafnium Alloy reflection, a middle-aged man with black, coarse long hair covering his head and an explosive big beard obscuring his features stares back in shock.
No impression.
The man completely can’t rember who he is, doesn’t know his age, nor why he’s here.
He shuffles his long hair to either side to at least reveal his eyes.
Only then does he notice.
At the "neck" of the shiny trash can, there are two letters engraved:
"V...V...?"
The man tilts his head, puzzled.
Why are these two English letters engraved on a trash can?
Must be a brand.
It should be the trash can brand.
"Hiss!"
Another toenail splits, causing the man to grit his teeth from the pain.
It seems the nails need to be dealt with first.
He returns to the Hibernation Pod and finds a sharp object that fell nearby, which he uses to trim his nails.
Though not neat or aesthetically pleasing, it at least doesn’t hinder movent.
He then starts looking around and notices the place is like a cage with only a simple elevator leading upwards:
"Is this the exit?"
No choice but to try.
The man steps onto the simple elevator and presses the button to ascend.
Luckily.
It still works.
Amidst creaks, the equally shiny simple elevator rises.
At the final exit, it encounters so trouble, with thick layers of soil or leaves, but fortunately, the elevator is powerful enough to push through.
In an instant, a bright light bursts forth.
Outside, it’s a dense forest, primitive and beautiful, completely different in style from the dark, high-tech underground bunker.
The man strokes his beard covering most of his face, looking left and right, unsure which direction to head.
"Yaaah!"
Suddenly.
A girl’s scream cos from behind.
The man turns around to see a cautious-looking girl.
The girl looks about twelve or thirteen, wearing ragged clothes, with deep brown hair tied at the back of her head, a noticeable tear mole at the corner of her left eye, holding a dagger and glaring at him:
"You! Where did you suddenly pop out from?!"
"I..."
The man is at a loss, not sure how to respond.
"I don’t know either."
The man responds helplessly:
"Where is this place?"
"Brooklyn."
The girl replies.
She suddenly realizes that in her mont of urgency, she spoke in Chinese, and this middle-aged man with a big beard and long hair responded fluently:
"Hey! Are you from China?"
"I don’t know."
The man answers truthfully.
The girl furrows her brow:
"What’s your na then?"
"I don’t know either."
The man points to his head, tugging at his thick and explosive long hair:
"I can’t rember anything, it’s like amnesia, I can’t recall anything."
The girl, seeing that the man doesn’t seem like a bad person and poses no threat, puts away her dagger and stands straight:
"Since you’re so fluent in Chinese, you should be from China. Here, people generally speak English. I only speak Chinese when I’m with my parents."
"Oh."
The man, sowhat dazed, seems like his mind hasn’t caught up.
He looks at the girl:
"Then... what’s your na? How should I address you?"
"CC."
The girl answers indifferently:
"You can just call CC."
"CC?"
The man chuckles:
"Is that even a na?"
"Mind your own business!"
The girl snaps:
"Of course, it’s not my real na, it’s just convenient to call it that. Moreover, you don’t even have a na yet!"
"Hmm..."
The man strokes his big beard, thinking, and finds it reasonable:
"However, since CC is a na with just two simple letters, I could easily co up with a na too."
Suddenly.
He recalls the letters engraved on the shiny trash can in the underground bunker.
The man lifts his head, smiling slightly:
"Since you’re called CC, my na will be..."
"Just call [VV]!"
.
.
.
.
Volu Seven "VV", to be continued.
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