"Where am I?"
Yang Liansheng lay on the bed, looking around. It seed to be a hospital, with a respirator and so indecipherable devices by the bed, the ceiling overhead, and bluish curtains on the front and both sides, drawn to enclose a room.
His left hand was handcuffed to the bedrail, and his right arm was fitted with an IV. Looking at the dication bag above, it wasn't a blood bag but probably sothing like glucose, he guessed. It was all in English, and the print was a bit too small to see clearly.
It was very quiet around him; there seed to be no one outside the curtains. Sothing felt off. Yang Liansheng shook his left hand, feeling how tight the handcuffs were, as he stared up at the light on the ceiling, recalling the events of the past couple of days.
...
Two days ago, he had just traveled through the soul passage. He vividly rembered the person who had sent them through the portal and how he had drifted out of the hospital to be arranged for the traversal.
After a period of chaos, he had woken up to find himself lying in a tattered tent, covered with a blanket, fully dressed. He sat up, unzipped the tent, opened the flap, and peeked out to survey the surroundings.
It must have been early morning—the air was cool, and the sun had just risen. The location seed to be under an overpass; he could hear the sound of vehicles passing overhead. There were several similarly dilapidated tents around, and a few drowsy-looking people scattered about—Caucasians, Latin Aricans. Had he been reborn abroad?
After confirming it was temporarily safe, he drew back into the tent, zipped it up, and began to inspect his surroundings.
There was no sleeping bag; beneath him was cardboard covered with so newspapers, in English, a sowhat dirty and torn blanket, and he was dressed in a T-shirt, a hoodie, and jeans. A pair of sports shoes lay next to the bed. He guessed the clothes and shoes hadn't been washed in days. There was an unpleasant sll, and he wasn't sure if it was from the blanket or because he hadn't bathed for a long ti.
On his left wrist was a red cord bracelet with wooden beads, 12 small dark red beads with one larger bead in the middle, engraved with the characters "Lian Sheng." The character "Lian" was in simplified form. He didn't know what kind of wood it was, but it looked aged and well-worn.
Next to the makeshift cardboard pillow was a severely worn backpack; its straps were pilled, and it was covered in dirt. It used to be black, but now it appeared largely grey and black. Opening the backpack revealed a jacket, another hoodie, two T-shirts, a pair of jeans. Inside the backpack's pocket were a few pairs of underwear, and in an adjacent pocket were several pairs of socks—all looked used.
In the backpack's outer pocket was a wallet, a flashlight, and a few coupons and bills. Unfamiliar with foreign currency, he examined them closely—they seed to be US Dollars. He counted 23 dollars, and there were also so coins in the outer pocket.
The driver's license in the wallet was issued in California; the picture was of an Asian, very young, probably himself. Without a mirror, he couldn't be sure. Jimmy Yang, 02/07/1980—he wasn't sure of the current date, he had to figure that out to know his age. The address was Green Street in San Francisco and aningless for now.
He organized his belongings and, finding no phone or any electronic devices, not even a radio, realized he was cut off from obtaining information via those ans.
...
Just reborn, and the English na Jimmy Yang still didn't feel quite right. Luckily, the bracelet had the na Lian Sheng, so he decided to use that as his Chinese na for now.
After his rebirth, Yang Liansheng must have inherited the capabilities of this body. He could read English well, as he understood the information on the driver's license, but he wasn't sure if he could speak it. It was better not to interact with people out there until he was sure it was safe.
Yang Liansheng, having organized his stuff, lay down and stared at the tent's ceiling, thinking about what to do next.
He had an identity, though he appeared to be a holess man, at least he wasn't undocunted. But he wasn't sure if he had a criminal record. California is frequently featured in many movies. Although he had been a firefighter in his previous life and had not retired or traveled abroad, he knew from countless movies and internet browsing that California was affluent. Even with minimal knowledge, places like Los Angeles, San Francisco, Long Beach, Malibu, and Hollywood were familiar. He could definitely find a suitable profession; he couldn't always be a holess man.
First things first, he needed to get ahold of today's newspaper to check the date and find a map to figure out his location. Additionally, he needed to find a place to shower and change his clothes.
Yang Liansheng stood up, unzipped the tent, put on his shoes, slung on his backpack, pulled the hoodie over his head, and stepped out of the tent. He took a last look back to confirm the color of the tent, then turned and walked toward a distant gas station.
======
(I hope everyone doesn't mind the slow pace of the book. Just settle down and enjoy it like an Arican TV series.)
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