In the third year of Jiahe, Wujun, late spring.
The raindrops hit the bluestone slab diagonally, causing small splashes of water. The air is filled with the smell of damp earth and the aroma from the distant wine shop. Fuaixi opened her eyes suddenly, with a splitting headache, as if she had been hit by a heavy hammer, but the sight in front of her made her forget the pain for an instant——
It was not a familiar office building, with no bright computer screen and no financial report folders piled on the table. Instead, it was a low adobe house with a leaky roof, several bundles of dry firewood stacked in the corner, a hard plank bed covered with straw, and a coarse quilt covered with patches and exuding a musty smell.
"Where... Is this?" She struggled to sit up, but found that her body was extremely weak, her arms were thin, and her palms were covered with thin calluses. They were obviously not her hands that typed on keyboards all year round and were painted with exquisite nail polish.
