When I woke, my head felt as heavy as lead. A faint scent of sandalwood mingled with medicinal herbs lingered in my nostrils. I opened my eyes to an intricately carved bed canopy, with gauze curtains hanging softly around me. The brocade quilt covering me felt soft, yet unfamiliar. This wasn't my room.
"Miss is awake? Amitabha, she's finally awake!" A middle-aged woman in ancient-style clothes hurried over in delight, her eyes full of concern. "Zijuan, quick, bring the young lady her medicine."
Miss? I jerked upright, and a wave of dizziness swept over me. Looking down, I saw a pair of slender, fair hands with clearly defined knuckles. They were nothing like my own, callused from years of typing
