Tragedy

Ling Yuan carried Yan Shu into the bedroom and carefully placed her on the bed. She curled up in pain, her whole body instantly drenched in cold sweat, biting her lower lip so hard that blood seeped out.

"Shu'er! Look at me!" Ling Yuan grasped her icy hand, his voice trembling, "The imperial physician will be here soon!"

Yan Shu's vision blurred with pain; she felt as if countless hands were tearing at her stomach. She gripped Ling Yuan's arm tightly, her nails digging almost into his flesh, and cried out intermittently, "Your Highness... the child... save the child... our child..."

The cries pierced Ling Yuan's heart like knives. He abruptly turned and roared, his eyes bloodshot: "Where is the imperial physician! Where has he gone! Ling Ying! Go and tie the imperial physician up for me! Now—!"

Ling Ying had never seen the prince like this before. She replied with a "Yes" and shot off like an arrow.

Chaos erupted inside the room. Yan Shu's cries of pain grew louder and louder, gradually turning into shrill screams, each one like a slow, agonizing torture.

The imperial physician was practically dragged in by the collar by Ling Ying; he almost dropped his medicine chest. The old man's legs went weak at the sight of this, and he scrambled to the bedside.

After taking the pulse for only a short while, the imperial physician's expression changed. Just as he was about to speak, Ling Yuan said, "Come out and speak!"

The imperial physician hurriedly followed her into the main hall, his voice trembling as he said, "Your Highness...the Princess Consort is...she's going into premature labor! She's only seven months along, this...this is..."

"What are you afraid of!" Ling Yuan grabbed the imperial physician by the collar and lifted him up. "Let me tell you! If anything happens to the princess and the child, I will skin your entire family alive!"

The imperial physician was terrified and knelt down with a thud, kowtowing repeatedly: "Your Highness, please calm your anger! This old minister will do his best! He will do his best!"

"Get inside!" Ling Yuan released his grip, his chest heaving violently.

The imperial physician scrambled into the bedroom.

Yan Shu's cries in the bedroom grew weaker and weaker, replaced by suppressed, broken groans, occasionally interspersed with the midwife's anxious whispers. Basins of hot water were brought in, but what came out was a glaring crimson.

Ling Yuan stood in the main hall, listening to the sounds inside and watching the bloody water being brought out one after another. He felt as if the blood in his body had frozen. He remembered many years ago, on a night just like this, his mother's palace was also in such a flurry of activity, with basins of bloody water being brought out one after another... and then, he never had his mother again.

That familiar, overwhelming panic swept over him again. He lifted his foot to rush inside.

"Your Highness!" Ling Ying stood firmly in front of him, kneeling down. "The delivery room is bloody, you can't go in!"

"Get out of my way!" Ling Yuan shoved him away.

Ling Ying was pushed away, but immediately rushed over and hugged his leg, her voice hoarse: "Your Highness! Going in won't help, it will only distract the imperial physicians and midwives! Please calm down!"

Ling Yuan watched as Ling Ying clung tightly to his leg, looked at the blurry, swaying figure in the bedroom, and listened to Yan Shu's occasional, faint moans of pain. The sound was like a thin thread, coiling around his heart, tightening more and more, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. He froze on the spot, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged.

Time slipped by, each moment feeling like an eternity.

After an unknown amount of time, Yan Shu's voice completely disappeared from inside.

A deathly silence.

Ling Yuan's heart sank suddenly, almost bursting out of his chest.

After a while, the bedroom door finally opened. The old woman came out carrying a small bundle wrapped tightly in brocade, her head bowed. Behind her were the pale-faced, trembling imperial physician and several maids.

The group walked up to Ling Yuan and, with a thud, all knelt down on the ground.

The main room was eerily quiet, with only the crackling of the burning candlelight.

The old woman pushed the small bundle in her arms forward, lowered her head even further, and her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

The imperial physician touched his head to the ground, his voice trembling with sobs: "Your Highness... this old minister is incompetent... the Crown Prince... he was born... he was already dead..."

"Your Highness, spare us!" The people kneeling on the ground immediately kowtowed repeatedly, their cries of agony filling the air.

Ling Yuan felt a buzzing sound in his ears, and his vision went black for a moment. He staggered half a step, but Ling Ying caught him tightly from behind.

He stared intently at the small bundle, his hands trembling uncontrollably. Slowly, extremely slowly, he reached out, his fingertips touching the soft brocade, and as if afraid of disturbing something, gently lifted a corner.

A small, bluish-purple face was visible inside, its eyes tightly closed. Its features were tiny, yet a delicate outline could still be discerned. So small, so quiet, devoid of any life.

That was his child. His and Yan Shu's child. A prince who should have been the heir of the royal family.

Ling Yuan abruptly shoved the brocade back over his head, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath—a breath that felt like it carried shards of ice, cutting his throat painfully. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and almost distorted: "...Where is the Princess?"

The imperial physician lay prostrate on the ground, trembling uncontrollably: "Your Highness... the Princess's life... has been saved for now... but... her uterus is severely damaged, and... she will likely... have difficulty conceiving again..."

Ling Yuan ignored him and the crowd kowtowing and begging for mercy on the ground. He pushed Ling Ying aside and stumbled into the inner room.

A strong stench of blood hit the senses.

Yan Shu lay on the bed, her face deathly pale, as if all life had been drained from her, her breathing barely perceptible. Her sweat-soaked hair clung to her forehead and cheeks.

Ling Yuan walked to the bedside. He looked at her, and a tearing pain surged in his heart, almost overwhelming him. He opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked. After several attempts, he finally managed to squeeze out two words: "...Shu'er."

Yan Shu's eyelids twitched, and she slowly opened them. Her gaze was initially unfocused, but gradually it settled on Ling Yuan's face. She looked at him, then glanced around blankly, her voice as soft as a feather: "Your Highness...where is the child?" She paused. "Why...why didn't I hear any crying? Is it...because he's only seven months old, too young...his cry is weak?"

Ling Yuan's throat tightened, and he couldn't utter a single word. He could only stare at her in anguish.

Looking into his eyes, the faint light within Yan Shu gradually dimmed and disappeared. The bewilderment on her face was slowly replaced by a vast, unsettling calm. She gazed at him quietly, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible: "Your Highness...where is our child?"

She struggled to sit up, "I need to... go see my child..."

"Shu'er!" Ling Yuan suddenly bent down and gently pressed her back onto the bed, his arms encircling her thin shoulders, his voice suppressing immense pain, "We...we will have children again..."

Yan Shu stopped moving instantly.

She slowly, very slowly, turned her head to look at Ling Yuan, who was so close to her. His once bright eyes were now empty, devoid of any light. She looked at him for a long, long time, and then, without warning, tears welled up in her eyes like a burst dam.

He looked at her, his voice soft, yet it resonated in Yan Shu's ears like a thunderclap:

"The child... is gone..."