I woke up with the warm fragrance of nephrite.
The tip of my nose touched a strand of hair, and the faint smell of toilet water mixed with some kind of powdery fragrance that I couldn't place went straight into my mind. I subconsciously wanted to push it away, but my hand touched something warm - smooth skin, slender waistline.
My hands froze.
Not a dream. The touch under my hand was so real, so real that I could feel the rise and fall of her waist and abdomen when she breathed. My brain was running rapidly at this moment, and the routines of the novels I read before traveling through time flashed through my mind like a slideshow - when I wake up with a woman next to me, 99% of it is a trap, and the remaining 0.10% Is a big trap.
But I didn't move.
I lay on my side and looked around with squinted eyes. There was an old-fashioned carved wooden bed with tasseled curtains. There was an extinguished kerosene lamp on the bedside table, and next to it was a small Browning pistol. The windows were covered with thick dark green curtains, but judging from the light coming through the gaps, it should be daytime outside.
Everything in the room told me one fact: this is not 2024, this is not even modern.
What I smell is not the smell of hotel disinfectant, but the woody smell of old furniture, the musty smell of paper, and a sense of age - the calendar hanging on the wall shows the 31st year of the Republic of China. There is an enamel cup on the bedside. The rim of the cup is bumped and the paint on the edge is old. There is a Shanghai brand watch next to it.
I was about to reach for the watch to check the time when the woman next to me suddenly turned over.
My heart skipped a beat.
