Deep in a remote wilderness stands an ancient palace, forgotten by the world. Once a symbol of imperial power, it is now reduced to crumbling walls that, beneath the moonlight, speak of endless sorrow and terror.
As night falls, a thin mist shrouds the palace, as if nature has draped it in a veil of mystery. Moonlight filters through sparse clouds and spills across the palace flowers, withered yet unnaturally vivid. Their red is blinding, as though every blossom has soaked up blood, giving off an alluring yet chilling scent.
Deep inside the palace, a candle flickers in a dilapidated side hall, illuminating several wrinkled faces: those of elderly palace maids. A strange light glimmers in their eyes, born of memories of the past and fear of the unknown.
“Do you still remember the year Emperor Xuanzong held a banquet here, when songs and dances filled the halls and flowers bloomed everywhere...” one maid begins slowly. Her voice is low and hoarse, as if it could pierce the barriers of time and carry them all back to that glorious age.
Come on ⛽️, I wish you better and better