Lin'an Mansion, the handyman's room behind the Qiantang County Office, a foul musty smell is coming out from the pile of half-rotten straw in the corner. When Yuan Daye opened his eyes suddenly, what he hit on his forehead was not the soft crash pad in the logistics simulation cabin, but a wooden board with burrs, which made him gasp in pain.
"Fuck..." He cursed for a while, then suddenly got stuck.
His mouth tasted like he had swallowed ten kilograms of moldy sawdust, and his throat was as dry as smoke. What was even weirder was that everything in sight had an old khaki color to it - there was a hard wooden bed beneath him, and he was covered with a burlap quilt with seven or eight patches. What was piled in the corner was not the tool bag he was familiar with, but a pile of tattered clothes with no original color. Next to it stood a chipped clay pot with a few dry reeds inserted in it.
This is not his simulation pod.
