The violent impact, the piercing screams, the despair crashing over her from all sides… Su Qingzhao suddenly opened her eyes. A mottled wall and a familiar old fan greeted her.
She… wasn't dead?
A faint scent of soap lingered beneath her nose, the smell she remembered best from childhood.
Su Qingzhao stiffly turned her head and looked around: the shabby furniture, the yellowing walls, and the pile of fabric stacked in the corner…
Wasn't this her home when she was ten?!
“Have I… been reborn?” Su Qingzhao's voice trembled. She raised her hands and stared in disbelief at the small, childish fingers.
