Transmigrated to the Late Tang Dynasty to Become Chancellor

Cold. Not just a little cold. Bone-chillingly cold. It felt as if his whole body had been submerged in a river in late autumn. The chill had seeped into his bones and kept squeezing out through the gaps between them. The first sense Sun Bo regained was hearing. Rain pattered by his ears, much like the rain on the earthen embankment earlier, yet somehow different: more muffled, more distant, heavier. It sounded like rain falling on thatch, a soft rustle with an old, worn quality to it.