Chen Chong took a round-headed key from the little silver fish's body, kicked his legs, and quickly swam to the cabin door.
Chapter ??9
There was little air left in his lungs. Holding his breath, he stared at the keyhole and carefully lined up the key.
The key slid perfectly into the lock. Chen Chong gave it a gentle twist, and the cylinder turned without resistance, making a muffled, distant click underwater.
In the silent cabin of the sunken ship, that sound was both faint and deafening.
Chen Chong almost let out the breath he had been holding, but he immediately steadied himself, slowly turned the cylindrical handle, and pulled the door open.
Before Chen Chong could react, the water inside seemed to have suddenly found an outlet and surged out of the cabin.
The powerful current swept Chen Chong out with it. As he passed through the doorway, he tumbled helplessly, his head spinning.
After what might have been a moment or much longer, Chen Chong came to his senses. His mouth and nose had broken the surface, and he felt the long-missed touch of air.
He instinctively gasped. His powerful lungs drew in the air, bringing with it a thick smell of blood.
Chen Chong's breathing slowed slightly, and his eyes snapped open.
It was dim around him, still an unlit cabin. Several broken wires hung before him, presumably left behind when the chandelier fell.
The ceiling was directly overhead. Chen Chong floated on the surface, with only a head's worth of space between the water and the ceiling. All sorts of things drifted haphazardly around him.
Tableware, food, severed limbs, corpses.
He had opened the cabin door and emerged into another cabin—but it was the cabin from before.
Chen Chong immediately realized he had returned to the