In Shouchun, the lights shine brightly inside Sun Ce’s temporary residence, and the air is thick with the scent of medicine.
On the bed, a handsome young man suddenly opens his eyes. His chest heaves violently, as though he has just escaped the suffocating grip of drowning. His bewildered gaze sweeps across the room: intricately carved wooden beams in an antique style, bronze lamps swaying overhead and casting a dim yellow glow, and the unfamiliar, jarring smell of medicinal herbs mixed with charcoal smoke.
