Cold, biting cold.
Shen Qingci felt as if a ball of red-hot iron had been stuffed into her throat, and every breath she took brought with it sharp pain like tearing. Her chest was heavy, as if it were pressed against a millstone weighing a thousand kilograms, making it difficult for her to even breathe. She wanted to open her eyes, but her eyelids were as heavy as glue. There was a buzzing in her ears, mixed with vague sobs and faint laughter in the distance. The laughter was sharp and harsh, just like Shen Qingrou, that little bitch, when she was proud.
"Ahem..." The violent cough made her whole body twitch, and a fishy sweetness surged into her throat. She choked out a mouthful of black blood, and her vision finally became clear.
What comes into view is the dilapidated carved window lattice. The paper covering the window has several holes. Cold wind flows in through the holes and stirs up the dust on the desk. Under her body was a hard wooden bed, and the bedding was thin and hard. There was also a lingering musty and medicinal smell that made her nose itchy.
This is not a prison!
