Jingyang Palace.
The nuns stood at the high threshold and looked back, their eyes full of reluctance.
Clear sky, white clouds, gentle breeze.
Good times are too short, like a spring dream.
Going out today, they followed behind the ceremonial procession. Even the smell of scattered cow dung by the official road felt novel and endearing, but the incense smell in Jingyang Palace now felt nauseating for the first time.
Du Miao stared blankly at the sky outside, "Will we have another chance to go out in the future?"
One of the nuns whispered, "Next time, it might be when we're carried out of the palace."
Upon hearing this, Du Miao pulled out the hairpin from her hair, letting her gray hair fall behind her, and walked away dejectedly to the back hall.
As Zhu Lingyun walked inside, someone called her, "Xuan Yun."
She turned her head to look.
