The musty smell mixed with the smell of urine went straight into my nose, making my brain hurt. Mu Yan's eyelids were as heavy as lead. As soon as he opened the crack, he was stung by the dim candlelight. Damn it, how did the presidential suite in a five-star hotel turn into this damn place? At yesterday's celebration party, Lafite, who was born in 1982, was still holding back his throat to rejoice, but now his throat was so dry that he could rub sparks out of it.
"Cough... Cough!" His throat felt itchy, and he coughed so hard that his lung tubes would turn out. This movement was so incredible that the bones in his body felt as if there were broken glass particles. The pain made him hiss and gasp. Looking down at the gray linen prison uniform he was wearing, with a large dark brown blood scab on his chest, Mu Yan's mind buzzed - Wan Xiaozi, he has traveled through time!
The damp straw pricked his lower back. He propped up his arms and tried to sit up. The cast iron shackles on his wrists rattled, and blood oozed from his bruised wrists. Using the bright light from the oil lamp on the wall, he squinted and looked at the area: three stone walls were hung with green moss, an arm-thick wooden fence was dark outside, and there was a faint flicker of firelight at the end of the corridor. There were half-eaten pieces of steamed bun soaked in a puddle in the corner, and a few fat mice were scurrying around.
