In the third year of Xianchun, it was late spring.
The rain in Lin'an City always carries an inexorable dampness, which is very similar to Liang Daye's situation at the moment - his whole body is cold, and his bones are sore and numb, as if he had been run over by ten trucks and then pieced together again. She struggled to open her eyes, and what she saw was the dusty thatch roof. A few wisps of musty smell mixed with moist earthy air entered her nose, making her cough violently.
"Cough... Cough..." Her throat was as dry as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. She wanted to raise her hands to rub it, but found that her arms were as heavy as lead. With a little effort, she could feel the stinging pain of the iron chain rubbing against her flesh in her wrists.
Chain?
Liang Daye woke up suddenly. She remembered that she was the general manager of Lieying Network. Yesterday, in order to finalize a CFO order with an annual salary of 8 million, she stayed up three nights in the company, and finally fell unconscious on the keyboard. It stands to reason that now he should be in the VIP ward of the hospital, being called "Mr. Liang" by his assistant Xiao Zhang in tears, instead of being locked in such a miserable place that is worse than a doghouse.
She rolled her eyes and looked around: the adobe wall was mottled and peeling off, half a bundle of damp straw was piled in the corner, the only window was covered with yellowing paper, rustling in the wind, and she could vaguely see the cloth shoes walking on the bluestone road outside. The body was covered with a thin, coarse cloth quilt that had been patched several times. The fabric of the clothes underneath made the skin hurt. As expected, the wrists and ankles were covered with rusty iron shackles, which made the skin red.
This is not her body.
