Cheng Daye's last memory was the lamp in the office on the top floor of the design institute that had been on for three days and three nights, and the newly rendered ancient building restoration model on the computer screen - it was the result of countless all-nighters that she had worked on. As the youngest general manager of the design institute, this project was related to the company's survival in the next quarter.
The coffee on her fingertips had already cooled down. She rubbed her sore temples and stood up. She wanted to go to the tea room to refill her cup, but her foot suddenly slipped. It was not the softness of falling on the carpet, but the biting coldness, the howling wind in my ears, and the vague hustle and bustle that did not belong to the modern city.
With a "plop", she fell into the mud, and the muddy water splashed all over her face.
"Where did you come from, this crazy woman! Dare you break into the path of the Forbidden Army's honor guard?" A hoarse scolding rang in his ears. Cheng Dago choked on the muddy water and coughed heartbreakingly. She struggled to open her eyes, and the first thing she saw was a pair of soap-colored boots with fresh grass clippings stained on the toes. Above them, there was a navy blue outfit, with a rusty ring-head knife hanging on her waist.
This is not a prop from a film and television base. Cheng Dage suddenly raised her head, looking beyond the soldiers in front of her, and saw a scene further away: the blue-grey city wall towering into the clouds, and a faded flag hung on the tower, embroidered with a totem she had never seen before - a Suzaku with outstretched wings, holding three stars in its claws. Both sides of the street were lined with rows of wooden buildings, with cornices and faded lanterns hung on them. Pedestrians wearing coarse shorts hurried past, looking at her as if they were looking at a monster.
