When the eldest grandson Ai Xi opened her eyes in a biting chill, what her fingertips touched was not the soft velvet chair cushion in the dressing room, but rough and cold linen.
"Hiss—" She wanted to stand up, but there was a dull pain in her wrist. Looking down, she saw that her fair and slender wrist was wrapped with a yellowing cloth, and a scabbed wound was vaguely exposed under the cloth. These are not her hands - her hands are what advertisers call "works of art kissed by God". The knuckles are well-proportioned, the skin is so delicate that you can clearly see the light cyan blood vessels, and even the fingernails are trimmed and rounded like pearls. But the hands in front of her, although the skeleton is similar, are covered with small scratches, and there is a thin layer of calluses on the fingertips.
"Girl, are you awake?" An old voice sounded in her ears. The eldest grandson Ai Xi turned around and saw an old woman with gray hair wearing short taupe clothes approaching with a bowl of steaming rice soup. "Thanks to you, when you were chased by officers and soldiers yesterday, you hit our firewood pile. Otherwise, you might have suffered something."
Officers and soldiers? Woodpile? Eldest grandson Ai Xi's brain felt like it had been hit by a heavy hammer, and fragments of memories came flooding back: Yesterday, she was shooting a set of high-end jewelry advertisements. In order to capture the best shot, she stood on a high platform in the studio. The scaffolding under her feet suddenly loosened, and she fell weightlessly. The photographer's screams could be heard in her ears, and diamond jewelry were scattered in front of her eyes... After that, there was boundless darkness, and now this weird scene.
"Where is... Where?" Her voice was hoarse and dry, with a tremor she was unfamiliar with.
