The red drapery still carried the fragrance of the wedding; the air in the room was thick with the atmosphere of the grand occasion.
But it couldn't dispel fear. The neighing of warhorses, the fluttering of banners, the shouts of soldiers, the lamentations of the civilians—Bingzhou City, on the verge of being devoured by the rebel forces, pushed the emotion of terror to its peak on this day of the winter solstice.
"What to do about the young lady, what to do?"
Daman and Xiaoman's faces had gone pale with tension.
"What's the panic?" Feng Yun's fingers were a bit cold as she clenched them slightly, "Does fear of death serve any purpose?"
The servant girls fell silent.
Seeing this, Ye Chuang said, "We should not delay any further; let's set out at once."
He feared it would be too late if they waited any longer.
Feng Yun hesitated only for an instant before she gave a faint nod of agreement.
"Alright."
