The wind in the cold palace crawls out from under the ground.
Shen Qingci opened his eyes with a severe headache. In front of him was the mottled and peeling wall, and the beams were densely covered with spider webs, like faces with silent smiles.
The straw under her body was damp and moldy, and the cold air ran up her back. She moved her wrist, and a deep purple bruise came into view - it was the mark left by someone who had been tightly restrained.
Before her consciousness had fully returned, memories rushed in like fragments: dazzling white light, the crisp sound of glass exploding, the scream of the alarm in the experimental cabin... The last thing she remembered was that she threw herself towards the tube of genetic medicine that was about to explode, and the next second, there was endless darkness.
