The charcoal fire in the bronze cauldron crackled, roasting the goose's cheeks. She opened her eyes suddenly and saw the tripod ears carved with gluttonous patterns. There was a strange smell mixed with grease and smoke lingering on the tip of her nose. It was completely different from the coffee aroma in the CBD office building in her memory.
"What are you still waiting for? The noble man is still waiting for dinner!" A woman wearing a coarse cloth skirt scolded in a sharp voice, and the wooden spoon in her hand made a sharp sound on the pottery bowl.
Candae straightened her back subconsciously, and her left hand habitually wanted to touch the laptop on the table - as the secretary to the general manager of "Sincere Apology Shop", she had to deal with hundreds of apology plans every day, and the notebook that recorded customer needs was never left behind. But what his fingertips touched was the cold and rough stone table, and his palms were still stained with some sticky rice milk.
"I..." She was about to ask, but her throat felt as dry as sandpaper. The sight in front of her made her heart beat wildly: low rammed earth walls, thatched roofs, several men and women wearing linen clothes squatting in the corner gnawing on black buns, and the faint sound of clanking bronzeware could be heard in the distance.
This is not the 21st century she is familiar with. The bathroom I fell into while holding back drinks for a client at a bar last week actually became a portal through time and space?
