Consciousness awakened before the five senses.
An unprecedented sense of weightlessness washed over her, as though her soul had been forced into an ill-fitting body, every inch of it constricting. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. After several struggles, she managed to pry them open a sliver.
Dim light seeped into view, faintly outlining unfamiliar shapes. Instead of the clean scent of ink and books, the air carried the acrid smell of dust and rotting wood, mingled with a faint trace of medicinal herbs. Beneath her was a hard plank bed that dug into her body. At the slightest movement, it creaked as though it could barely bear her weight.
This wasn’t her study.
Lin Qingci, or rather, the soul now occupying this body, forced herself to stay calm. Fragments of memories surged like waves crashing against a seawall: another woman’s joys and sorrows, fear and grief, despair and indignation, colliding and merging with her own knowledge and understanding.
Shen Qingci… the Prince of Zhenbei’s estate… the wedding… the cold courtyard…????
