Fu Ling forced himself upright, only to collapse again as the full weight of his body pressed into the burning sand. Heat waves shimmered above the ground, distorting the horizon into a cruel mirage.
The garbage star. He realized where he was at once. This was the first instance where he transmigrated to such a delicate time.
If you say it was good, his gender had already been forcefully changed and he had been marked by the crown prince. If you say it's bad, none of the people he wanted to protect were dead yet.
Fu Ling looked around through narrowed eyes.
Abandoned scraps of machinery and mountains of rusted debris stretched endlessly, broken only by dunes of ash-colored sand. The stench of rotting metal and scorched plastic filled the air, sharp and suffocating.
Fu Ling coughed, his throat dry and raw, every breath scraping like glass. His lips cracked, and when he licked them, they tasted like rust and sawdust.
