Yue'er, if you bear with it a little longer, it will be over soon.
Xianyang Palace, Zhanghua Terrace.
The Winter Solstice Night Banquet is supposed to be a joyful time for royal family members, civil and military officials to celebrate the festival and have dinner together.
However, in the corner of this splendid and warm palace, it seems to be another world.
The cold wind poured in from nowhere, like an invisible knife, causing pain on people's faces.
The seventh prince, Lin Feng, was wrapping his petite body in his arms as tightly as possible with his old cotton robe that had turned white after washing. His sister, Lin Yue'er, was curled up in his arms, her little face turned blue from the cold, and her delicate brows filled with a sickly pale color that was inconsistent with her age.
"Cough... Cough cough..."
Another suppressed and violent cough came from Yue'er's thin chest, like a small hammer, hitting Lin Feng's heart hard.
He quickly tightened his arms, pressed his sister's little head on his chest, patted her back gently, and whispered comfort: "Yue'er, just bear with it a little longer, and it will be over soon."
But the more he forbears, the more energetic the other party becomes.
