The biting chill was the first thing she felt after regaining consciousness.
What followed was boundless darkness and suffocating oppression.
The nostrils were filled with the rotten smell of inferior pine wood mixed with blood. Every breath was like swallowing poison mixed with gravel, burning the dry throat.
Liu Rushuang's fingertips groped around her side and touched the rough and uneven inner wall of the wooden board.
Coffin.
She was actually in the coffin.
There was a dry and tearing pain on her lips. She subconsciously stretched out her tongue and licked it, and a rusty smell instantly exploded on her taste buds.
Chaotic thoughts were swirling wildly in her mind like fragments blown up by a strong wind.
She is the top modern doctor of medicine and toxicology, a woman standing at the top of the pyramid.
But the last scene she saw was her most respected mentor personally pushing a lethal potion into her veins, while her best friend, whom she regarded as a relative, stood aside with a cold and proud smile on her lips.
The pain of betrayal was more unforgettable to her than death itself.
