Thump, thump, thump!
Zhou Mingrui took several steps back in fear at the sight before him, as if the person in the mirror was not himself but a dried corpse.
How could someone with such severe wounds still be alive!
He turned his head disbelievingly to examine the other side. Even though the distance was longer and the light was dim, he could still see the presence of penetrating wounds and dark red bloodstains.
"This..."
Zhou Mingrui took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
He reached out and pressed his left chest, feeling the strong, rapid, and vigorous beating of his heart.
He then touched the exposed skin, feeling the warmth flowing beneath the slight coolness.
He crouched down, and after verifying that his knees could still bend, he stood up again, no longer so panicked.
"What's going on?" he muttered with a frown, intending to carefully examine the wound on his head once more.
He took two steps forward, then suddenly stopped because the light of the blood moon outside the window was relatively dim, not sufficient to support a "careful examination."
A fragment of memory emerged under stress. Zhou Mingrui turned his head to look at the wall lamp on the wall next to the desk, formed by gray-white pipes and a metal grille.
This was the mainstream gas lamp, with a stable flame and excellent lighting effect.
Given Klein Moretti's family situation, he shouldn't have hoped for a gas lamp, or even a kerosene lamp; using candles would have been more fitting for his identity and status. But four years ago, when he was staying up late to study for the entrance exam for Hoy University, his brother Benson thought this was an important matter related to the family's future, and even if it meant borrowing money, he would create good conditions for him.
Of course, Benson, who was literate and had worked for several years, was definitely not a reckless, unscrupulous, or unthinking person. He used the rationale that "installing gas pipes would improve the grade of the apartment and help with future rentals" to trick the landlord into paying for the basic renovations. Then, through his job at an import-export company, he obtained a new type of gas lamp at nearly cost price. In the end, he only used his savings and didn't borrow any money.
The fragments flashed by. Zhou Mingrui returned to the desk, opened the pipe valve, and turned the gas lamp switch.
Click-click-click. The sound of friction ignition rang out repeatedly, but the light did not appear as Zhou Mingrui had expected.
Click-click-click! He turned it a few more times, but the gas lamp remained dim.
"Hmm..." He withdrew his hand, pressed his left temple, and squeezed out memory fragments to find the reason.
After a few seconds, he turned around, walked to the side of the door, and came to a mechanical device also embedded in the wall, also connected by gray-white pipes.
This was a gas meter!
Glancing at the slightly exposed gears and bearings, Zhou Mingrui took a coin out of his trouser pocket.
It was dark yellow, shimmering with copper luster. On one side was engraved the head of a crowned man; on the other, ears of grain surrounded the numeral "1".
Zhou Mingrui knew this was the most basic currency of the Loen Kingdom, called a copper penny. The actual purchasing power of 1 penny was roughly equivalent to three or four yuan from before his transmigration. There were also denominations of 5 pennies, halfpenny, and farthing, but they were still not fine enough; in daily life, they still had to round up when buying things.
After flipping the copper penny, issued only when King George III ascended the throne, around his fingertip a few times, Zhou Mingrui pinched it and inserted it into the vertically open, slender "mouth" of the gas meter.
Ding-ding-dang-dang!
As the penny fell to the bottom inside the meter, the clicking sound of gears turning rose, playing a short and wonderful mechanical melody.
Zhou Mingrui stared for a few seconds, then returned to the log-colored desk and reached out to turn the switch of the gas lamp.
Click-click-click, pop!
A flame ignited, rapidly growing. Bright light first filled the interior of the wall lamp, then passed through the transparent glass, bathed the room in a warm hue.
The darkness suddenly retreated, and the crimson retreated from the window. Zhou Mingrui inexplicably felt a bit more at ease and quickly stepped to the full-length mirror.
This time, he carefully examined the temple area, not missing a single detail.
After several comparisons, he found that apart from the initial bloodstain, the hideous wound was no longer oozing liquid, as if it had received the best hemostasis and bandaging. The slowly writhing gray-white brain and the rapidly growing wound tissue signaled the arrival of healing. Perhaps thirty or forty minutes, perhaps two or three hours, and there would only be a faint trace left.
"The healing effect of transmigration?" Zhou Mingrui raised the corner of his right mouth in a silent whisper.
Then he let out a long breath. Regardless of the reason, at least he was still alive!
Calming his mind, he pulled open a drawer, took out a small piece of soap, and grabbed one of the old towels hanging by the cabinet. Then he opened the door and walked to the communal washroom on the second floor.
Yes, he needed to deal with the blood on his head. Otherwise, always looking like a crime scene might scare himself, but if it scared his younger sister Melissa, who had to get up early tomorrow, things would be hard to handle!
The corridor outside the door was pitch black, with only the crimson moonlight spilling through the window at the end vaguely outlining the contours of protruding objects, making them look like pairs of monster eyes silently staring at the living in the deep night.