Story of Yanxi Palace: Fu Ying's banner will never fall

Behind the bustling streets of the capital, the Fucha Mansion seemed to be shrouded in a veil of silence, immersed in a depressing silence.

The air in the mansion seemed to be frozen, with only the occasional faint breathing sound, as if telling of the struggle of life.

It has been ten days since she returned to Beijing. Wei Yingluo sat quietly in front of Fu Heng's bed, her figure as if frozen in time, motionless.

Her eyes seemed to be attracted by a magnet, staring at Fu Heng's paper-pale face, her eyes full of concentration and affection, as if she wanted to use this burning gaze to engrave his appearance deeply in her heart, into the depths of her soul.

The guilt and heartache in Wei Yingluo's heart were like two ferocious poisonous snakes, gnawing at her soul in the corner of her heart, making her chest feel like it was being pressed down by a huge rock, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

Every breath seemed to be in great pain, and the air was swallowed and exhaled with difficulty in the throat.

The sky outside gradually darkened. The dark clouds were like heavy blocks of lead, piling up one after another, like a black mountain range that was about to collapse. It seemed as if the heavens were also worried about Fu Heng's condition and used this depressing sky to express their sorrow.

Occasionally, a cold wind blew by, and the wind was like a naughty child, whistling and rushing over, making the windows creak. The sound was particularly harsh in the silent room, like sharp nails scratching across the glass, which made Wei Yingluo's nerves tense suddenly.

Wei Yingluo frowned slightly, and the space between her eyebrows looked like two small hills, slightly raised.

She stood up slowly, each movement seemed a little heavy, as if she was being pulled by an invisible force. She walked to the window, her steps were light, as if she was afraid of disturbing something.

She stretched out her hand, which was trembling slightly, and gently closed the window. She did it as carefully as if she was treating a rare treasure, as if she was shielding Fu Heng from all the noise and disturbance of the outside world and wanted to create a quiet little world for him.

She returned to the bedside and slowly squatted down, her eyes never leaving Fu Heng's face. She gently held Fu Heng's hand, which was cold and weak, like a piece of ice without temperature.

Her body trembled slightly, and the cold touch made her heart tighten even more.

Her tears flowed down again, like beads that had broken off the string, dripping one by one onto the back of Fu Heng's hand, splashing tiny water droplets. "Fu Heng, you must wake up."

Wei Yingluo's voice was soft and trembling, like a fragile feather floating in the wind, or as if she was whispering to a sleeping baby, full of endless tenderness and expectation.

She recalled every detail of their time in that mysterious land of the southwest, and the memories flooded into her mind like a tide.

The days in the southwest seemed like a long and thrilling dream, and every scene was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

The rolling mountains were like the ridges of the earth, majestic and spectacular; the lingering clouds were like a veil wrapped around the mountains, dreamlike; the mysterious miasma area was filled with the breath of death, like a demon hidden in the dark. Every scene was like a painting, deeply imprinted in her mind, and became an indelible part of her memory.

But Wei Yingluo, who once looked forward to traveling around the country, now has some fears, because she can't imagine what her life would be like without Fu Heng...

They struggled forward in that dangerous land, and every step was full of unknowns and challenges, just to find the Sacred Heart Grass that could save Empress Fucha's life.

She remembered Fu Heng's bravery and fearlessness when facing the wild beast. His eyes were firm and resolute, and he stood in front of her without hesitation. That was a spirit of being ready to die.

She remembered how he protected her in the miasma, how he held her hand tightly. That hand was full of strength, like a beacon guiding her in the darkness.

She still remembers his determined gaze and warm smile. That gaze was like the scorching sunshine, able to dispel the haze in one's heart; that smile was like a spring flower, blooming in a dangerous environment, giving people hope and strength.

And now, Fu Heng lies quietly on the bed, his life or death unknown.

Wei Yingluo's heart was filled with fear, and that fear was like a tide in the dark, rising continuously and about to drown her. She was afraid of losing him, afraid that there would be no trace of him in this world anymore, and afraid that the most important part of her life would be lost from then on.

She held Fu Heng's hands tightly, and her hands held tighter and tighter, as if she wanted to pass her strength to him, as if this could pull him back from the brink of death.

Her eyes were full of determination, as if she was engaging in a silent battle with death.

As the days passed, every minute and every second seemed like a torment for Wei Yingluo.

Finally, Wei Yingluo got hope.

Because there was finally news about her master, Ye Tianshi. A small flame seemed to be burning in Wei Yingluo's heart, and that was the flame of hope.

She fed Fu Heng medicine and ginseng pills to sustain his life, her movements gentle and quick.

Then, Wei Yingluo arrived at the city gate early and waited. Her steps were hurried and her heart was full of anxiety.

She stood at the city gate, her eyes fixed on the road in the distance, her eyes full of expectation. She looked forward to it, her body slightly leaning forward.

Finally, she saw a familiar carriage, which was slowly approaching like a messenger of hope.

Wei Yingluo's eyes suddenly lit up, and she seemed to be injected with a powerful force. She rushed forward, as fast as a gust of wind.

Bixiao on the side was extremely surprised, because the young lady's speed was even faster than that of a martial artist like himself.

She got into the carriage and said anxiously, "Master! Please go to Fucha Mansion with me to see Fu Heng." There was a hint of anxiety and expectation in her voice, and her eyes were fixed on Ye Tianshi.

But Ye Tianshi just shook his head, his movements were slow and heavy.

He looked strange, dressed in black, and no longer as cheerful as before. Instead, he looked gloomy and sad.

There was a deep sadness in Ye Tianshi's eyes, as if he had lost something precious. His body seemed to be drained of vitality, and he sat there limply, without the spirit of the past.