Damn it!
Song Rong was woken up by the musty smell + earthy smell mixed with the smell of rotten rice.
His eyelids were as heavy as lead, and he struggled to open them. What he saw was not the familiar special operations dormitory, nor the field tent where he had just finished his mission, but the dark adobe roof. The torn straw mats hanging from the beams were swaying in the wind, and the falling dirt almost hit him in the face.
Song Rong suddenly stirred up and tried to push himself up to sit up, but his back was sore. The body beneath him was not a bed at all, but an earthen kang covered with a layer of torn straw. It was as hard as a stone slab and was so painful that his spine almost fell apart.
He looked down and was immediately confused.
