My head hurts, as if someone had hit me hard with a sledgehammer, or as if a ball of over-fermented dough had been stuffed into my brain, which was so swollen that it hurt.
Lixiang opened her eyes with difficulty, and what she saw was not the familiar ceiling of an office building, nor the pale lights of a hospital, but a dark thatched roof with a few strands of spider webs hanging on it. The air was filled with an old musty smell mixed with the pungent smell of low-quality tobacco, which made her cough twice.
