The rancid smell hits your nose.
Su Qinghe's whole body was immersed in the cold and sticky fish entrails, and a fishy smell rushed to the top of her head, making her already weak stomach churn.
She gritted her teeth and forced down the nausea.
The wooden board beneath him was hard and narrow, and his limbs were forced to curl up in a twisted posture. Every bump made his back hurt from the splintered wood stubble.
But the coffin was the only way to survive.
The mute woman's staggering footsteps were just above her head, accompanied by the creaking groan of the cart wheels.
