Waves of sharp stabbing pains came from deep inside his head, forcing Lin Fan to break free from the endless darkness.
The sight before him made his breath hitch.
The carved wooden beams hung overhead, covered with a fine layer of dust, and the air was filled with a musty smell of rotten wood and moisture.
He was lying on a hard bed, covered with a coarse linen quilt. The fibers of the fabric rubbed against his skin, bringing a rough touch.
This is not his room.
