The cold, sticky touch was the first signal Shen Jingzhe received when he returned to consciousness.
She lay on the straw mat that smelled of musty and urine, and every bone was sore and weak.
His throat felt as if it had been scalded with a hot iron or filled with burning coals. Every weak breath brought a tearing pain. Not to mention speaking, even swallowing saliva became a torture.
She tried to cough, but a strong smell of rust rushed straight into her throat, and she suppressed it again.
Don't panic.
She muttered silently in her mind and swallowed the surging blood, her eyes turning black.
Taking a deep breath, the turbid air made her lungs hurt.
She held up her arms, which seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and slowly sat up.
The luxurious phoenix robe on his body was gone, replaced by a gray linen garment that was so rough that it scratched the skin, like the lowest prison uniform.
His fingers subconsciously touched his neck and wrists. The dong bead necklace and mutton-fat jade bracelet that he had worn all year round to symbolize the queen's status had long since disappeared, and not even the earrings were left.
