Xing Daye opened her eyes amid a violent jolt, and the dull pain from her forehead made her take a breath. In front of her eyes was a yellowed tent ceiling, embroidered with some crooked mandarin duck patterns, and the air was filled with an indescribable musty and herbal smell, which was completely different from the fragrance of the hotel suite in her memory.
She struggled to sit up, but found that her whole body was sore and weak, and her wrists were tied with rough hemp ropes, leaving several red marks. This is not the hotel where she celebrated after signing a million-dollar booking the night before, nor is it the place where she should stay as a retired athlete of the provincial swimming team and now a medical device sales manager.
