Boom——
A pale electric light tore through the night, illuminating the glazed tiles of Chengqian Hall in the East Palace brightly.
The dull thunder followed, like a giant's war drum beating in the sky.
Shen Jinghong opened his eyes suddenly, and his consciousness was abruptly pulled back from the boundless chaos by the thunder.
What she saw was a bright yellow gauze tent with a complicated five-clawed golden dragon embroidered on the top, and a cold and expensive ambergris that she had never smelled lingered on the tip of her nose.
She moved her fingers, and what she touched was the cold and smooth tribute silk, not the rough and scratchy hay in the dilapidated woodshed.
This is not her body.
This thought exploded in her mind like a thunder.
