The head is heavy.
It was like being pushed into the water and struggling to float. The nose was full of dust and musty smell.
I opened my eyes and saw a beam with spider webs hanging on it. The wooden board beneath me was as hard as a coffin board, which made my backbone ache.
Wrong.
A second ago, I was on the autopsy table, cutting open the stomach of a highly decomposed male corpse and extracting undigested poison samples. The lights in the dissecting room are white and the smell of disinfectant is pungent.
But here - where?
I sat up, wearing a coarse cloth that had been washed white, with two holes in the cuffs. The skin on the back of the hand is fair and the knuckles are clearly defined. They are not my modern hands, but more like hands that have been pampered.
"Mother, are you awake?"
A high-pitched voice came from outside the door, and then the door was pushed open, and a white-faced and beardless eunuch walked in, holding a broken bowl with two black steamed buns in the bowl.
"Your Majesty, it's time to eat." The eunuch put the bowl on the corner of the table with a smile, but his eyes unconsciously glanced out, as if he was avoiding something.
I stared at him for three seconds.
Wrong.
