My palace is full of female protagonists.

In no time, the Crown Prince's fame spread like wildfire throughout the streets and alleys of Yuyao County. Isn't that strange? Although the terrible plague was still raging like headless flies in and around the city, the people's hearts were ignited by the Crown Prince's spirit of advocating for their welfare, and their enthusiasm soared. Everyone thought to themselves, "With such a responsible Crown Prince leading the way, what do we have to fear?"

The Imperial Guards were equally efficient, acting with boundless enthusiasm. They not only guarded the palace gates but also organized porridge and medicine stalls, creating a scene as bustling as a New Year's celebration. Imagine, bowls of steaming hot porridge and servings of fragrant, bitter medicine – weren't these the warmth and hope brought to the people emaciated by the plague? They did everything in their power, determined to suppress the rampant spread of the disease and restore vitality to Yuyao County.

Just then, as the sun climbed over the eastern mountains, its golden rays not yet completely dispelling the chill of the night, Consort Zhen, leading her renowned Yun family army, marched like an unstoppable torrent into the heavily fortified villages, silent except for the sounds of wind and birdsong. This was no mere stroll through the villages; she carried a heavy mission, bearing the imperial resolve and the people's hopes.

Consort Zhen, renowned for her indomitable spirit, was dressed in a form-fitting outfit that perfectly showcased her heroic and spirited demeanor. Her brows were furrowed, and her eyes revealed an unwavering determination, as if she were engaged in a silent battle with an invisible enemy. Her arrival was like a lightning bolt piercing the gloom over the village, bringing an unusual atmosphere to this long-silent place.

"Soldiers of the Yun family army, be alert!" Consort Zhen's voice was clear and powerful, piercing through the morning mist and reaching the hearts of everyone. At her command, the soldiers quickly sprang into action. Each of them wore a mask, revealing only their resolute eyes, and held mugwort in their hands, preparing for a special "disinfection" ceremony.

"Light the fire, smoke out the village!" With Consort Zhen's command again, the soldiers lit the mugwort in their hands, and in an instant, the entire village was enveloped in a thick and unique smoke. The smell was so strong that it made people frown, but for the Yun family army soldiers who had experienced countless storms, it was an indispensable part of their mission.

The village was deathly silent, devoid of any human presence or sound, broken only by the occasional gust of wind and birdsong. Consort Zhen walked at the head of the procession, her steps steady, her gaze piercing, as if she could see through the layers of smoke to every villager who had once lived there. She frequently paused to inquire of the situation from the soldiers beside her, or to check if any corner had been overlooked; every action she took revealed a deep respect and sorrow for this land.

"Remember, although we arrived late, our responsibility is even greater." Consort Zhen's words, though simple, resonated deeply, striking a chord with everyone present. They knew that they bore not only the task of disinfection, but also a deep respect and sorrow for the lives lost.

As the smoke from the mugwort gradually dissipated, the village seemed to be cleansed anew, filled with a fresh yet mysterious aura. Consort Zhen stood at the village entrance, gazing at this land that had once been full of life and vitality, now deathly silent, and an indescribable sorrow and heaviness welled up in her heart. She knew that the departure of these villagers was not merely the loss of life, but a devastating blow to this land and to this country.

However, Consort Zhen did not succumb to grief. She quickly composed herself and began directing the Yun family army soldiers to carry out the next steps—cleaning the bodies, disinfecting the environment, and preparing for reconstruction. She knew that although these tasks were difficult and tedious, they were their mission and responsibility as the royal army.

The soldiers of the Yun family army, each like a hunter entrusted with a special mission, patrolled house to house, their eyes sharp as eagles, leaving no corner unchecked. They knew that under this epidemic, every tiny oversight could become a deadly hidden danger, and the collapse of morale was a disaster more terrible than the virus itself. Therefore, Consort Zhen personally ordered them to see with their own eyes how many people had fallen in this sudden disaster, and how many were still struggling tenaciously.

The soldiers' footsteps echoed through the silent village, each step heavy. They pushed open tightly closed wooden doors and entered dimly lit rooms, where the sights they met were horrifying. Some lay quietly on their beds, their faces ashen, eyes closed, as if they had given up fighting against fate, simply awaiting their final verdict. Their bodies were emaciated, like withered branches, ravaged by disease, a sight too painful to behold.

And those still struggling—their plight is even more heartbreaking. Some, to avoid making their homes dirty, stubbornly endure their illness and crawl into the cowshed or pigsty, spread out thick layers of straw, and lie there alone. They may know their days are numbered, but even so, they try their best to retain their last shred of dignity. Their eyes hold both a yearning for life and a fear of death—an indescribable, complex emotion.

The soldiers of the Yun family army were filled with mixed emotions as they witnessed these tragic scenes. Some remained silent, some sighed softly, and some even had reddened eyes, struggling to hold back their tears. They knew that as members of the royal army, they not only needed an iron will and formidable fighting power, but also a compassionate heart and a sense of responsibility to speak out for the people.

"Everyone, pull yourselves together! We cannot be defeated by the difficulties we face." The voice of Consort Zhen rang in the soldiers' ears, her words firm and powerful, seemingly infusing each one with an invisible strength. She personally led the soldiers to begin cleaning the bodies, disinfecting the environment, and comforting the living. She knew that only by restoring vitality to this land could the souls of the departed find peace, and only then could the living see hope.

The soldiers responded enthusiastically to Consort Zhen's call, dividing the work among themselves: some carried the bodies, others sprayed disinfectant. Their actions exemplified the true nature of soldiers and the true meaning of serving the people.

And then there were others, oh, those were truly tragic. Talking about them feels like a thousand needles are piercing my heart at once, the pain is unbearable. You know, the courtyard was empty, yet filled with people, each one silently bidding farewell to this world, leaning against the doorframe, or lying on the ground, as if suddenly taken away by some mysterious force, leaving so hastily, without even a chance to say goodbye.

Those corpses were emaciated, skin and bones, with hardly any flesh on their bodies, as if life had been mercilessly devoured by time and disease. They may have once been hardworking farmers on this land, kind elders, or lively children, but now, they are nothing but cold shells, silently telling the story of the cruelty and ruthlessness of this world.

The doctors arrived, dressed in heavy protective suits, masks, and goggles, but even so, they couldn't completely suppress the deep sorrow and compassion welling up from their hearts. They knew there were no survivors here, but they still dutifully began their work, counting the dead and arranging the collection and disinfection of the bodies.

They moved swiftly and methodically, carefully lifting each body onto stretchers and transporting them to designated locations for cremation. With each body removed, their hearts grew heavier, for they knew this was not merely the loss of a life, but the shattering of a family and the grief of a community.

Disinfection work was equally important and arduous. Doctors, carrying sprayers, moved back and forth in the yard, leaving no corner untouched. The pungent smell of disinfectant permeated the air, as if trying to mask the suffocating stench of death. They knew that only thorough disinfection could prevent the further spread of the epidemic and protect more innocent people from harm.

Although no one is alive, the doctors' workload has not lessened at all. They are also responsible for handling the belongings, those things that once carried people's hopes and dreams. They carefully sort through them, trying to find a trace of life, a trace of past warmth and happiness in each item.

“We must act quickly,” an elderly doctor, surnamed Li, known as Old Li, said urgently to those around him, his brow furrowed. His eyes were filled with determination and anxiety as he gazed at the land shrouded in plague, his heart brimming with a sense of responsibility. “If these corpses are not dealt with promptly, the plague will only spread further. We must live up to the trust placed in us by the Crown Prince and Consort Zhen, and we must also live up to the expectations of these innocent people.”

Old Li's words were like an invisible force, inspiring everyone around him. They all knew that this was a race against time, and every moment of delay could threaten more innocent lives.

For several days in a row, the group, dressed in heavy protective suits, masks, and goggles, ventured deep into the various sealed-off villages. The villages were eerily quiet, as if even the wind had held its breath; only the occasional bird song broke the deathly silence.

The villagers seemed to have given up the struggle, simply waiting quietly for their fate to arrive. An eerie feeling permeated the air, as if the entire village was shrouded in an invisible gloom.

The situation only changed when they entered a dilapidated farmhouse. While searching, one of the soldiers suddenly heard a faint sound coming from a large water vat. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but upon closer listening, the sound was indeed there. He immediately signaled his comrades to come closer, and then carefully smoked the surface of the vat to see what was inside.

As the water vat was slowly opened, a shocking scene unfolded: a child curled up at the bottom, clutching a cloth bundle tightly in his arms, fast asleep, seemingly oblivious to everything around him. The soldiers quickly tried to pull the child out, but the child was terrified upon seeing them, and his cries instantly shattered the silence of the room.

The commotion woke the child in the vat. He opened his blurry eyes and, seeing the unfamiliar soldiers and doctors around him, burst into loud sobs. His cries were filled with fear and helplessness, making everyone who heard them feel heartbroken.

At this moment, Consort Zhen arrived upon hearing the news and comforted the child in a gentle voice: "Don't be afraid, child, Auntie is here to help you. Auntie will protect you."

Consort Zhen's voice seemed to possess a magical power; the child gradually stopped crying. Although still frightened, the child was at least willing to listen to her. Consort Zhen carefully took the child and noticed that the child's clothes were tattered and worn, and it was unclear how long the child had been in the vat, as they might have been contaminated with disease.

She immediately instructed her attendants to prepare a set of adult clothes, as the child's clothes were too small, inconvenient to change, and more likely to get dirty. Consort Zhen personally changed the child into new clothes, every action filled with maternal love and care.

After changing into his new clothes, the child looked much more energetic. He was no longer so afraid, but curiously observed everything around him. Looking into his innocent eyes, Consort Zhen felt a surge of warmth in her heart. She knew that this child was a survivor of this disaster, and the reason for their hard work.

Consort Zhen gently lifted the child's bundle, and at that moment, her eyes welled up with tears. The bundle was filled to the brim with steamed buns; although some had hardened on the outside, they were still edible inside. There was also a sheep-stomach water jug, but only two sips of water remained. This meant that everyone had arrived in time, and the child hadn't suffered too much. These steamed buns were what the villagers had done with all their might to save; they were the last glimmer of hope they had left for the child in this desperate situation.

Consort Zhen was deeply shaken. She recalled the corpses she had seen before, many of them children, some nestled tightly in their parents' arms, others holding hands, families of three or five lying neatly together, as if protecting each other in their final moments. But this child before her had miraculously survived, becoming a bright spot in this land.

Consort Zhen carefully examined the child's body and found that he appeared perfectly healthy. Although his skin was somewhat dry, there were no obvious symptoms. However, she dared not let her guard down. After all, the epidemic in the village was already so severe, and no one knew whether the child had already been infected but had not yet shown symptoms.

Therefore, Consort Zhen decided to set up a simple tent on the edge of the village as a temporary quarantine area. She ordered a large vat of medicinal decoction to be boiled, made from various herbs, which were said to have the effect of warding off evil spirits and preventing disease. Although they could not rely entirely on these herbs, in such a situation, they could not give up any hope.

The child was gently placed into the medicinal bath and began to bathe. He was a little scared at first, but Consort Zhen gently stroked his head and whispered to comfort him, "Don't be afraid, child, this is to give you a bath, to wash away the germs on your body, and you will become healthier."

The child seemed to understand Consort Zhen's words and gradually relaxed. He closed his eyes, enjoying this rare warmth and comfort. As Consort Zhen bathed him, she gently hummed a nursery rhyme. The song was like a spring breeze, caressing the child's heart and bringing him endless comfort and courage.

After his bath, the child was wrapped in clean bedding and laid on a small bed in the tent. Consort Zhen stayed by his side, not daring to leave him for a moment. She was worried that the child might suddenly fall ill, and even more worried that he would be afraid and lonely.

Fortunately, after a night of observation and care, the child did not show any abnormalities.