The violent impact, the ear-piercing screams, and the overwhelming despair... Su Qingzhao opened her eyes suddenly, and saw the mottled walls and the familiar old fan.
She... Isn't dead?
There was a faint scent of soap lingering on the tip of her nose, which was the smell she was most familiar with when she was a child.
Su Qingzhao turned her neck stiffly and looked at everything around her, the simple furniture, the yellowed walls, and the piled textile materials in the corner...
Isn't this the home she had when she was ten years old? !
"I... Was reborn?" Su Qingzhao's voice was trembling. She raised her hands and looked at those small, tender hands in disbelief.
