When Lin Mo opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a hard wooden bed.
Above the head is a dusty mosquito net, and through the gaps in the worn curtains, the mottled wooden beams can be seen. The air was filled with the smell of musty and herbs, mixed with a faint smell of gunpowder smoke.
He sat up suddenly, feeling a dull pain in his head.
What's going on?
The last scene in my memory was the sudden earthquake on the top floor of the library. The bookshelves collapsed and the classics were scattered. Lin Mo, a graduate student in the Department of History, was reviewing documents on the changes in the Shanghai Concession during the Republic of China. Then everything fell into darkness, and when I opened my eyes again, it was already like this.
"Are you awake?" A slightly hoarse male voice sounded.
Lin Mo looked around and saw a middle-aged man wearing a gray gown standing at the door. He had a thin face but sharp eyes. He was holding a bowl of dark medicinal soup in his hand and was carefully crossing the threshold.
