When Shao Daye opened his eyes amid a violent jolt, a fishy smell of fodder and sweat lingered on the tip of his nose. She sat up suddenly, and the back of her head hit a hard board, causing her to gasp in pain - this was not her rental house filled with reports and instant coffee, nor was it the 24-hour convenience store she often went to when the publishing house pressed for manuscripts.
There was a narrow space in front of him, with rough linen cloth spread under his body. Looking out through the dilapidated wooden windows on both sides, he saw a continuous loess road and the occasional passerby wearing a coarse cloth. What was floating in the air was the smell of ancient dust that she had only heard of in historical documentaries.
"Are you awake?" A hoarse female voice sounded next to him. Shao Daye turned his head and saw a little girl with a double bun, about thirteen or fourteen years old, her face was stained with mud, but her eyes were bright, "Don't be afraid, girl, we are going to Bianliang City to visit relatives. When we saw you lying on the roadside, we took you with us."
Bianliang? Shao Daye's heart suddenly sank. She was very familiar with this place name. As an Internet writer who wrote historical and strategic articles, she had just asked the protagonist to conquer Bianliang City in her novel. But she remembered that she clearly drank too much coffee while working on a manuscript. Her heart cramped and she lost consciousness. How could she be here?
She looked down at her hands, which were slender and fair, with neatly manicured nails. She still wore the smart watch she bought with three months of royalties on her wrist - the screen was black and was completely turned into scrap metal. These are not her hands. Her knuckles have obvious calluses from typing on the keyboard all the time.
"Girl,
