Chai Daye lost consciousness in the dazzling golden light.
One second she was still struggling in the sea of audit reports, tapping her fingertips on the calculator to check the seventh version of the adjusted report. The next second, the chandelier in the office suddenly exploded, and the broken glass mixed with the sound of electric current wrapped around her and fell. When he opened his eyes again, what lingered on his nose was no longer the burnt aroma of instant coffee, but a damp musty smell mixed with a faint herbal scent.
"Cough, cough..." She wanted to stand up, but found that all the bones in her body seemed to be falling apart, and her throat was as dry as smoke. The vision gradually became clearer, and what came into view was a yellowed linen tent, embroidered with crooked branches and branches, a blackened wooden beam above the head, and a copper bell with peeling paint hanging on it.
This is not her twentieth-floor office with a river view.
