林晚晃了晃脑袋，嗡嗡声小了点，但依旧吵得她有点头疼。柴房里黑咕隆咚的，她就着从屋顶漏进来的一点光线，瞅了瞅周围。 Judging by the straw paper on the walls and the sturdy wooden door, it was indeed a dungeon. But why would she be locked in a dungeon? She remembered dying on her laptop in the modern world, then waking up here.

"Hello?" she called out, but only the echo answered her.

Great. So much for quick escape plans. She leaned against the cold stone wall and sighed. Trapped in a 16th-century Chinese dungeon, with no phone, no internet, and probably no rescue in sight. How cliché.

Wait a minute. Modern imagination, cliché or not, was still imagination. Right? She closed her eyes and tried to picture her modern apartment, the smell of coffee, the hum of the refrigerator... Nope. Still stuck in this weird room.

"Maybe there's a way out," she muttered, piling the straw paper aside to look for a hidden passage. Diplomacy wasn't her strong suit, but she was resourceful. If she'd written a character like this, she'd be resourceful too.