When I woke up, my head hurt, and I wanted to rub it and find that I was tied to a wooden pillar, and Yue Qianling and Xiao Lianshan next to me gradually woke up, and my last memory was the worm wriggling in the woman's wooden spoon, and the flickering face in the dim light of the candle, and the voice that was very different from her age. It's like a sound that can only be made when the vocal cords are torn, weird and harsh. Yue Qianling looked at me in a panic, and I signaled