When we got downstairs, the art troupe's visiting team had already started beating drums and gongs.
Qin Ying accompanied Fu Hanzhou and stood on the porch downstairs. Several injured soldiers were already waiting nearby accompanied by nurses.
I heard there was an event today, and the area was surrounded by people watching.
There was a faint smell of gasoline in the air. Qin Ying subconsciously looked around, but only saw cheering crowds and a lined-up art troupe, and found nothing unusual.
The deafening sound of the drums seemed to make people's noses less sensitive.
The director of the art troupe gave a brief speech on the condolences.
A simple stage was temporarily built on the open space.
Several actors went on stage to perform, and the final segment was to present ribbons and flowers to the soldiers injured in this mission.
Qin Ying stared at the flower-presenting team that filed onto the stage. A cold light suddenly flashed across her eyes. The person in the team holding the bouquet was shaking slightly, and the silver bracelet on his wrist swayed with his steps. The reflected light spots made her pupils shrink suddenly.
The silver light was too dazzling, like the flashing fangs of a poisonous snake.
Qin Ying's eyes unconsciously moved down along the silver bracelet, and suddenly she caught a glimpse of a dark trace winding on the ground - it was an oil stain extending from outside the crowd, shining with a strange luster in the sun.
“This smell…”
Her heartbeat suddenly quickened. She looked up along the oil trail and saw a figure leaning over in front of Fu Hanzhou.
She finally saw the outline of the man's face.
Cold sweat instantly soaked my back, that face looked exactly like Fu Hanzhou!
"careful!"
Her heart-wrenching scream mixed with the sound of gongs and drums, and her body rushed out before her consciousness.
The dagger hidden behind the bouquet had cut through the air, and the sound was so painful that it pierced the eardrums.
Fu Hanzhou reacted quickly and blocked the sharp blade that was stabbing towards his heart with his left arm. The sound of metal clashing mixed with the screams of the crowd, and blood instantly dyed the cuffs of his military uniform red.
Lin Zhao's androgynous face was twisted into a hideous mask, its pale features exposed to the sunlight. The naturally upturned curve of her eyes overlapped with Fu Hanzhou's silhouette at the shooting range, and her nail-painted fingertips tightly gripped the dagger.
"You owe her!"
He suddenly tore off his military uniform, and beneath the gasoline-soaked bandages, his pink costume blossomed like a peony, its gold and silver threads gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
The explosives wrapped around his waist were deadly and intimidating in the sunlight, and the gasoline bottles hanging on his body kept leaking down, leaving dark marks on the ground.
"Go to hell!"
He frantically pulled out the explosives and threw them at the crowd, and the blast overturned tables and chairs.
The second wave of explosives flew towards Fu Hanzhou and Qin Ying.
"Disperse! Evacuate the wounded!"
Fu Hanzhou's injured left arm suddenly exerted force, and he turned over to protect Qin Ying under him, and his back hit the edge of the flower bed heavily.
The wound on his abdomen burst open, blood soaking through the bandage, but he still stared at the crowd and yelled at the guard:
“Protect the masses!”
The moment the explosion sounded, Qin Ying heard him groan, and hot blood dripped onto her neck.
The heat wave made the skin hurt, and the thick smoke made it hard to breathe.
She exclaimed:
"Fu Hanzhou!"
The crowd erupted in screams, and the metallic clatter of guns being pulled out mixed with the roars of the wounded.
The action of Lin Zhao taking out the match made the air freeze instantly - with a "hiss", the orange-red flames reflected on his face with bulging veins on his neck and his body shaking madly, and his hair was reflected red by the flames.
The explosives around his waist had already started to sizzle.
"Look, someone is willing to kill for her, but you are too stingy to even hate her."
"Captain Fu, it's time to finish singing Farewell My Concubine with me!"
He held the burning match between his nail-painted fingertips, his eyes frantic and dazed:
"Tell me, why didn't you choose her?! The most dazzling princess in the compound, who killed for you and went to jail for you, but you only have eyes for this outsider bitch!"
His fingers trembled as he pointed at Qin Ying, and he suddenly raised his head and laughed.
The flickering flames made his pupils as red as a beast. In a trance, Qin Ying seemed to see another scene flashing in his eyes -
The night wind blew fine sand against the window frames of the art troupe's dressing room, and the banner "Serve the People" shone coldly white in the moonlight.
Lin Zhao, facing the mottled mirror, slammed Yu Ji's phoenix coronet firmly on his head. The scarlet rhinestones pierced his forehead, drawing blood. He stroked the tassel he had ripped from his waist—a decorative ornament from a prop sword in "Farewell My Concubine," now wrapped around the fuse of an explosive.
“There are only two spectators this time.”
He raised the corners of his mouth in front of the mirror, and the eyebrows and eyes of the person in the mirror gradually overlapped with Fu Hanzhou's.
"Fu Hanzhou, Qin Ying... and you behind the bars in the distance."
He suddenly grasped the golden hairpin on the phoenix crown, cutting a wound deep enough to see the bone on his palm.
"Ping An said, if you love someone, you must make him feel pain."
The roar of a car engine could be heard outside the window. Lin Zhao tucked her bloodstained hairpin into her temples, looked at her own distorted reflection in the moonlight, and chuckled softly:
"Look, I've even prepared the sword to kill myself."
Under the cold moonlight, he swayed gracefully. This was the last scene of "Farewell My Concubine".
As her sleeves fluttered, the broken diamonds on the phoenix crown fell to the ground, just like his shattered obsession.
Lin Zhao looked up at the cold moon hanging in the sky, her laughter drifting away with the night wind:
"Ping An, I'll wait for you in hell."
He adjusted his costume one last time and stroked the silver bracelet on his wrist. The cold light shone in the moonlight, like a blade about to pierce his enemy. He clutched the dynamite tightly in his arms, as if embracing the love he longed for, and turned to step into the fateful night.
At this moment, Lin Zhao suddenly raised his hand, and before everyone could react, another explosive flew over, and the arc it drew seemed to overlap with his flying costume.
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