Gui Daye woke up from the cold.
A biting chill penetrated from the worn straw mat beneath him, pricking his lower back like countless thin needles. He opened his eyes suddenly and saw a low thatched roof, a few blackened wooden beams spanning his head, and spider webs in the corners. This is not his office with a climate control system, nor the leather sofa bed imported from Italy at home.
"Hiss--" He wanted to stand up, but found that his whole body was so sore that it felt like he had been run over by a truck, especially his right leg, which felt heartbreaking pain at the slightest movement. Looking down, he saw dark red stains on the burlap trouser legs. When he got closer and smelled it, there was a faint smell like rust.
