The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was pain in my neck.
It's not the pain of a stiff neck, it's the suffocation of being hung up, the trachea like a pinched tube, and being unable to breathe. The cotton rope was dug into the flesh of his chin, his ears were filled with the buzzing sound of electricity, and his eyelids were as heavy as lead pendants.
I subconsciously raised my hand to scratch my neck, but what I touched was a piece of rough hemp rope.
What's going on?
The last image that flashed through my mind was the light in the cultural relics restoration room of the Forbidden City, the replica of the white silk used by Emperor Chongzhen to hang himself, and the tingling sensation on my fingertips when I reached out to touch it. Then there was a white light, a dazzling white light, like someone lit a sun in my head.
"Your Majesty! What's wrong with you, Your Majesty?"
A high-pitched voice exploded in my ears, and I took a sharp breath, my lungs burning as if they were on fire. I sat up with my support on the ground and found that I was lying on a rough straw mat, my knees hitting the cracks in the green bricks, and it hurt.
A skinny old eunuch was lying at my feet, his face covered with snot and tears: "Your Majesty, you are finally awake! I almost followed you!"
