"Xiao Han!"
A pleading cry fell on his ear before he felt someone kicking right in his ribs making an intense pain to shot through his body. His eyes already felt heavy as if rocks had been weighing down on them.
"Wake up already! It'd be no fun if you kept sleeping," he heard an unfamiliar but mocking voice.
Zhang Han slowly opened his eyes and what came into his view were tall trees. It was a dense forest, sunlight only fell on the ground through the cracks. Outgrown roots, wildflowers, fallen leaves and a minty fragrance of grass greeted him. However, he could still distinctly discern the smell of death and fear hovering in the air around him.
He had seen forests that seemed serene, carried a melody without rhythm and played the music without the sound. And in the greens of every palate, one would find the verdant hues of nature's free dreams.
