The Consort of the R

A single, painted hand shot out from the ground, grabbing onto the ankle with a desperate force, as if grasping at a lifeline. A shattering sound echoed, followed by a frantic cry: "Save me... save me...",There is no battlefield, no bloodshed, yet he lies on the cool rattan chairs in the courtyard of his mansion. The small courtyard is serene and peaceful.,In the evening, as the sun set in the west and night fell, the bustling capital city came alive. Thousands of lanterns illuminated the streets, their warm glow outshining even the stars in the sky.。