Pain.
It was as if someone had stabbed a red-hot iron drill through her temples, and then stirred it wildly.
Shen Weixue opened her eyes suddenly, and what she saw was not the familiar ceiling and desk, but an almost solid darkness. Only very high and far away, a small window sealed by an iron fence, let in a light as weak as a firefly.
What's that smell in the air?
The rotten straw mixed with blood and a disgusting stench of excrement, like garbage that had been left to ferment in a corner for centuries. The smell was so strong that it almost took on a physical form, entering her nasal cavity arbitrarily and irritating her to retching.
She was lying on the cold, damp ground, with rough thatch underneath her body, which pricked her skin.
This is not her apartment.
Instantly, a chill that was sharper than a headache shot from her tailbone to Tianling Gai.
