Without the slightest hesitation!
【yes!】
The mind is settled!
A wave of dizziness washed over me! My consciousness was forcibly separated from my body!
The deserted village, the river, the wasteland, and the crowd of people who were gazing at her longingly... all blurred and disappeared into the distance in an instant.
New target: Agricultural machinery!
For the first seedling in the wasteland, we'll give it our all!
...
ice.
Bone-chilling ice.
It wasn't the wind and snow of a cold winter month, but the feel of smooth, lifeless silk against the skin.
Jiang Chan suddenly opened her eyes.
Her vision was still a little blurry, but she could make out several burly, dark figures surrounding her. She was being held down tightly on a hard bed, her hands and feet restrained.
A bright red silk dress was being forcibly put on her. The dress was as slippery as a snake, and its color was an glaring red. A crooked, huge "longevity" character was embroidered on the chest with crude gold thread.
shroud.
The shroud she was dressed in.
When the old landlord died, these women—who had been forcibly taken, bought, or brought in to pay off debts—became concubines and maids who "voluntarily" died with him.
"Let go!" Jiang Chan's voice was hoarse, and she struggled violently. Her wrist was immediately gripped even tighter by an iron clamp, and her bones ached.
An old woman, expressionless, twisted her arm and forced the wide sleeves of the burial shroud onto her. The fabric rubbed against her skin, bringing a nauseating, slippery sensation.
"Behave yourself! It's your good fortune to be able to serve the master!" another old woman said coldly, her voice like a rusty blade scraping against bone.
Holding a wooden comb, she roughly pulled at Jiang Chan's disheveled long hair, quickly tying it into a lifeless bun and inserting a plain silver hairpin—the only decent burial item.
Jiang Chan stopped moving. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and suppressed the surging anger and instinctive resistance in her chest. A direct confrontation was useless; these old women were incredibly strong. She needed to stay calm and observe.
medicine.
A strong, pungent smell of herbs, mixed with cheap spices, filled the air. An old woman approached carrying a rough earthenware bowl. The bowl contained a thick, dark medicinal liquid that emitted a nauseating odor.
"Open your mouth!" the old woman holding the bowl commanded, her voice brooking no argument. Another old woman immediately grabbed Jiang Chan's chin, her grip so tight it almost crushed her bones.
Jiang Chan instinctively tried to shut her mouth, but her chin was gripped tightly. The dark medicine, with an indescribable bitterness and spiciness, was forcefully poured into her mouth!
The medicine burned her throat, sliding down her esophagus and bringing a strong feeling of nausea. She instinctively wanted to vomit.
"Swallow it! Don't waste it!" the old woman shouted sternly, gripping her chin even tighter and pinching her nose with her other hand.
Jiang Chan coughed violently, some of the medicine dripping from the corner of her mouth, staining the front of her brand-new funeral shroud red. But most of it was forced down her throat. A heavy numbness, like a cold tide, quickly spread from her stomach to her limbs and bones.
She could clearly feel the strength in her fingers slipping away, her arms becoming limp and weak, and even lifting her eyelids became extremely difficult.
The medication took effect. A drug that leaves you feeling weak.
No! I can't sleep! I absolutely can't sleep!
Jiang Chan suddenly used all her remaining strength to bite her tongue hard!
Excruciating pain! A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced through the surging numbness and drowsiness! The sweet, metallic taste of blood instantly filled my mouth.
The sharp pain jolted her senses awake for a moment!
Taking advantage of this brief moment of clarity, she quickly scanned her surroundings: a dimly lit room, simple furniture, a closed door, and gloomy daylight outside the window.
"Alright! The time has come!" The steward's shrill voice rang out from outside the door.
The old woman holding her down immediately released her. Jiang Chan slid off the bed uncontrollably, like a lump of mud, and fell heavily onto the cold floor. The combined effects of the medicine and the excruciating pain made her vision blur and her body feel weak.
She didn't completely collapse. She curled up on the ground, gasping for breath, forcing herself to stay conscious despite the pain.
Two old women grabbed her arms, one on each side, and dragged her out like a dead dog. The rough ground rubbed against the hem of her burial shroud and scraped against her bare ankles. The cold, hard touch penetrated the thin silk.
The door was opened. A cacophony of wailing, a desperate, heart-wrenching cry, flooded in. In the outer corridor, several other women, also dressed in garish red funeral clothes, were being supported by old women.
Some of them were wailing and howling in agony, some were cursing and swearing, and some had empty, numb eyes.
"Damn it! You'll all die a horrible death!"
"Let me go! I don't want to die!!"
"My lord... how cruel you are..."
The man in charge, dressed in a dark blue jacket, stood at the front with a sullen face, ignoring the cries and urging impatiently, "Hurry up! What are you dawdling for! Don't miss the auspicious time for the master's burial!"
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