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Tang Shen woke up from the smell.
It wasn't an ordinary stink, it was the kind that was mixed with blood, rust, feces, carrion, and rat carcasses. It was like someone had boiled the eighteenth level of hell into a pot of soup and poured it into his nose.
He opened his eyes and saw darkness.
To be precise, it was dark, but there was a ray of light leaking from the gap above the head. He moved his fingers and felt that his hands were sticky—straw, soaked in blood and urine.
"Am I not dead?"
This was the first sentence that came to his mind.
He remembered: the door to the review committee, the report letter, the evasive looks of his colleagues, and the principal's words, "Professor Tang, you are too hasty." Then there was the wind on the thirty-third floor, and—nothing.
Tang Shen, 38 years old, an economics professor at a well-known university, committed suicide by jumping off a building due to academic fraud. At the last second before his death, he was thinking: If I could come back again, I would definitely study hard.
Now he is awake.
But this isn't a hospital, it's not a morgue, it doesn't even look like the human world.
He struggled to sit up and looked at himself in the light - his two hands had distinct joints, but there were blood stains between the fingers that could not be washed away. He was wearing a prison uniform with three words embroidered on his chest:
Come to Junchen.
Tang Shen was stunned for three seconds.
Then he began to crazily recall all the history of the Tang Dynasty that he had read - Lai Junchen, a cruel official during Wu Zetian's period, invented the "invite the king into the urn", and was finally executed, and his body was eaten by his enemies.
He remembered the way to die.
