The Emperor's uncle loves me! My paranoid wife, don't run away

There was deathly silence in Concubine Yan's palace.

The candlelight flickered gently, casting her exhausted figure on the wall, long and narrow, and twisted, like a trapped beast.

Concubine Yan was kneeling on the ground, her originally exquisite bun had already become messy, a few strands of hair stuck to her forehead, and the hair at her temples was stained with sweat, with a hint of anxiety.

The sleeves fell to the ground and the gray futon lay quietly beside him, like an unnecessary decoration.

She held a long incense stick tightly in her hands, and the smoke rose up, as if stirred by an invisible hand, and drifted into twisted cloud patterns.

Concubine Yan opened her lips slightly, and her voice was intermittent and so low that it was almost inaudible:

"Mo Sheng...Mo Sheng..."

"You haven't replied to my letter for a few days..."

The voice trembled slightly, as if he had used up his last bit of strength.

"May all the gods and Buddhas bless him...May he be safe and sound..."

She stared at the Buddha statue in the shrine with empty eyes, as if trying to find the answer from the silent golden light.

After a long moment, she slowly turned her head and spoke to the servant girl who was standing beside her with her head lowered.

"Has there been any movement in the Hao Mansion these days?"

The maid lowered her head, hesitated for a moment, and then answered softly:

"My lady, since the death of the eldest lady of the Hao Mansion, the Hao Mansion has been filled with white banners. After seven days of keeping the body, it has been buried."

Concubine Yan's breathing stagnated slightly, and the fingers holding Xiang tightened.

The maid noticed that the atmosphere was not right, and quickly added: "General Hao has not left the house these days."

The light in Concubine Yan's eyes dimmed completely, like a charcoal fire that had been poured with cold water, leaving only a few imperceptible wisps of ashes.

"No movement..." She murmured again and again, her voice as cold as a knife, cutting people's hearts.

The next moment, she suddenly broke the incense in her hand. With a "pop", the burning incense ashes exploded and fell to the ground, crackling like a small fireworks feast.

The maid was frightened by the noise and stepped back repeatedly, standing there at a loss as to what to do.

Concubine Yan took a deep breath, gently stroked her hair with her fingers, and smoothed her messy hair again. Then she slowly stood up and swept her cold eyes across the Buddha statue in the shrine.

The pious look from before was gone, replaced by an aggressive disdain.

She sneered, her tone mocking:

"What are you talking about? I knelt for so long and prayed so many times, but what did I get?"

She reached out and gently moved the incense burner on the shrine, her eyes full of coldness, as if that was not a Buddha statue, but someone she hated.

"Pray to God? Ha, it's better to take action yourself."

Concubine Yan sneered and turned around, walking towards the door while commanding in a cold voice:

"Prepare the car, I want to go to the Hao Mansion!"

The maid was shocked and quickly advised: "Madam! The Hao family is in mourning now. It may not be appropriate for you to go there at this time..."

"What about wearing mourning clothes?"

The voice was low and resolute, with a hint of obsessive madness.

When Concubine Yan walked out of the palace, the wind blew up her sleeves and dispersed the smoke in the room, leaving the maid standing there in a daze, not daring to say anything more.

……

Wei Yun’s death was a bit sudden for Hao Chuan.

But at the funeral, Hao Chuan still chose to wear mourning clothes for his mother who did not love him.

However, from the beginning to the end, his expression was like a frozen rock, cold and expressionless, and he didn't shed a single tear.

When a person dies, it is like a light going out. The moment he takes his last breath, everything in the world is cut off.

The Hao Mansion became even quieter after Wei Yun's death.

The white flag fluttered silently in the wind. After the paper money burned out, the ashes scattered all over the ground like a silent snow. Hao Chuan stood in the center of the mourning hall, lighting a long incense stick. His fingers trembled slightly, then steadied.

"it's all over."

It is worth mentioning that.

On the seventh night after Wei Yun's death, Hao Chuan had a dream.

In the dream, Hao Chuan looked only seven or eight years old. He was wearing old gray clothes and sitting in a strange yet familiar courtyard.

The sky was clear and blue, and the wind blew through the treetops, bringing waves of warmth. The yard was not luxurious, but it was clean and tidy, and the air was filled with the aroma of food.

He looked up and saw a young woman walking out of the yard.

Wei Yun.

It was something he had never seen before.

Wei Yun in the dream was wearing a plain long dress, and her face looked much younger than when she was alive, with fewer wrinkles and no longer a sad expression. Instead, she had a gentle smile on her face.

She walked to Hao Chuan, squatted down, and gently brushed the dust off his clothes.

"I'm covered in dust after running, but I'm not afraid of falling." Her voice was not loud, but it was filled with a rare gentleness.

Hao Chuan was stunned. In his memory, Wei Yun had never spoken to him in such a loving tone.

He wanted to respond, but found himself speechless, his body out of control, and he could only stare at her blankly.

Wei Yun stood up, took his hand, and led him to the wooden table in the yard. On the table were a few simple side dishes and a bowl of steaming soup.

Wei Yun picked up the spoon, scooped a bowl and handed it to Hao Chuan.

"Drink it while it's hot, then go play."

Hao Chuan picked up the bowl and smelled the aroma of the soup. He couldn't help but drink it in big gulps. The soup tasted delicious and the warmth went straight to every part of his body. He felt like his body was soaking in a hot spring, so comfortable that he didn't want to move.

Wei Yun looked at him quietly, with a complex smile on his face, like memories and regrets.

I just watched for a long, long time...

"I'm sorry..." She suddenly spoke, her voice as soft as a breeze.

Hao Chuan was startled and looked up.

He saw that Wei Yun's eyes were a little moist, but no tears fell. It was just that those eyes were filled with unspeakable emotions.

Hao Chuan opened his mouth, but his throat seemed to be blocked by something and he couldn't speak.

He could only look at Wei Yun, biting his lips, his eyes slightly hot.

After finishing the soup, the dream ended.

When a person dies, it is like a light going out, and everything in the world of the living has long been cut off.

But that dream was like an unfinished bond, which stitched the connection between him and Wei Yun a little bit again.

Wei Yun's apology might have come too late, but Hao Chuan will probably never forget the taste of that bowl of soup in his life.

The lights in Hao Hengshan's study were still brightly lit.

A dozen cooks in their fifties were kneeling on the ground, and the floor, littered with broken porcelain bowls, reflected a cold light under the lamplight.

They were all trembling and hanging their heads, not even having the courage to look up at the general.

"General..."

"General, please spare my life..."

"Let's do it again... again..."

Before she could finish her words, a heavy celadon cup fell at the feet of the cook who was speaking. The boiling soup splashed everywhere, causing her to shrink suddenly and her face turned pale.

Ignoring the pain, Hao Hengshan slammed the table hard. His broad palm, with a force like anger, shook all the account books and letters on the table to the ground.

"Waste!" he roared, his voice as loud as thunder, frightening the kneeling cooks so much that they trembled again.

"Why can't you just make a soup!" He was almost roaring, his eyes red, like an enraged beast.

"It tastes wrong! It tastes wrong! It's wrong!" He covered his forehead with his hands, his fingers clenched in his hair, his emotions on the verge of getting out of control.

The entire Hao Mansion was crumbling in the dark night.