When Yan Wan hurriedly escaped with her family from the small west gate of the Prime Minister's Mansion, she had a premonition that she might never be able to return to Chang'an.
My ears were filled with screams and cries and the sound of fighting and killing. Wherever you look, there is a sense of sadness as the building collapses.
Yan Wan remembered that after she woke up that afternoon, her personal maid still called her "Miss" with a smile and gave her the popular hairstyle in Wan Palace. He also tied a mutton-fat jade hairpin on her hairpin that the prime minister's wife brought back from the palace a few days ago.
But now, with her hair in a messy bun, she was pushed and shoved in the crowd, and she could only feel the pain in her chest due to the violent breathing. In the hurried flow of people, she suddenly stood still. The moment he turned back, the flames in the Prime Minister's Mansion were burning bigger and bigger, and the glazed tiles and blue stone lions were submerged in the flames as if they were in Nirvana. The evening sky was dyed as intensely as a crabapple. It was as strong as blood, as strong as the killing she had just witnessed.
The killing destroyed everything for her.
Yan Wan gasped for breath as she escaped, forgetting her fear and tears.
This scene will forever linger in Yan Wan's fifteen-year-old memory.
This year, she just got haircut.