Chu Aixi's last memory remained in the white light that suddenly lit up in the live broadcast room.
At that time, she was holding up the latest replica of ancient books on the shelves, smiling gently at the camera: "The best thing about this replica of the Southern Song Dynasty's "Nanhua Sutra" is that it retains the moth-eaten incompleteness of the original book, like holding a thousand years of time in your hands..." Before she could finish her words, the ballast of the overhead lamp suddenly burst out with a string of sparks. The bright light made her unable to open her eyes. In her ears was the scream of assistant Xiao Chen, and then there was boundless darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, a strong herbal smell lingered on his nose.
