In the main courtyard of the Song residence, maids carrying copper basins were constantly going in and out.
Starting in the latter half of the night, Chu Huaixu fell into a high fever that wouldn't go down. He was delirious with fever, and even Yan Qingshan's attempts to pierce him with silver needles couldn't wake him up.
The medicine was completely unfeedable; the only way to cool it down was to soak a towel in cold water and place it on the forehead. Before long, the cold towel turned into a hot towel, burning hot to the touch.
At cockcrow, the man finally woke up briefly, but without saying a word, he immediately vomited three large mouthfuls of blood.
After vomiting, she fainted again and couldn't be woken up no matter how much she was called, which frightened Song Ting so much that her face turned gloomy.
The maids and servants were trembling with fear, none of them daring to utter a word. They walked in and out with their breath held, afraid that their master might draw his sword and chop someone's head off in a fit of anger.
The imperial physicians from the palace surrounded the bed in three concentric circles, each stroking their beards and shaking their heads in sighs.
Xiao An lay on the edge of the bed crying, which made Song Ting even more agitated. So he simply asked Xiao Wu to carry her out.
"Speak up, all of you! If you keep shaking your heads and not uttering a single word, I won't hesitate to send you all to the Imperial Guard Prison!"
Unable to bear it any longer, Song Ting kicked over the imperial physician who was closest to him.
The poor old imperial physician was kicked so hard he fell flat on his face, breaking two teeth on the spot. He was in so much pain he couldn't even get up, but he didn't dare to utter a sound and just endured it.
The other imperial physicians immediately broke out in a cold sweat. The imperial prison was no place for humans; anyone who went in would be skinned alive.
At this moment, they couldn't care less about who was better or worse; they just wanted Yan Qingshan to come back and save them from their predicament.
But Yan Qingshan was of course unreliable, because after his visit, he rushed off to develop an antidote, leaving them to keep Chu Huaixu alive.
They were truly clinging to life. Their fate hinged on that single breath.
But they dared not say these things to Song Ting's face; if they did, they would be the first to die.
Zhang Chongyi wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and forced a smile as he reassured him, "My lord, the young master is a lucky man, he will be alright."
Dong Maolin has been executed, and the Red Lotus Sect has been eradicated. The biggest hidden danger for Dayan has been eliminated. The young emperor then sent the edict of self-reproach to the entire territory of Dayan by fast horse.
Now that all the people of Dayan know that the Duan Prince's treason case has been overturned, the imperial physicians naturally know who the person lying on the bed is.
"Hmph." He was still spouting nonsense, and Song Ting couldn't help but laugh in anger.
The most skilled old men in Dayan Medicine are now talking to him about fate, which is utterly absurd.
He scoffed and said coldly, "Very well. Since Physician Zhang has said so, I will believe him. Leave a few people to guard the place, and the rest of you go and help the divine physician. I hope all of you will have good luck as well."
Chu Huaixu was completely oblivious to everything. Even when Song Ting held his hand and pinched and kissed it, he didn't feel a thing and didn't even flinch.
He had been in a coma for three days, and his condition had worsened. He was emaciated and lay on the bed as a tiny ball, which made Song Ting's heart ache. She wished she could bring Dong Maolin back to life and torture him a thousand or ten thousand times over.
But this did little to quell his hatred, because no matter how many times the old man died, Chu Huaixu's Gu poison remained unabated.
Master Liaochen was also brought to the mansion, where he performed rituals for two consecutive days, with chanting filling the mansion.
But the crucial antidote never arrived, so all of this was for naught.
Song Ting wanted to urge him but dared not, fearing he might hear something he didn't want to hear, so he could only stay in the house all day watching over Chu Huaixu.
He always thought he was fearless and dared to be a hero even in front of gods and Buddhas, but when it came to things related to Chu Huaixu, he became a coward, fearful and hesitant to move forward.
—Chu Huaixu may die.
Whenever this thought popped into his mind, he would forcefully suppress it; he dared not think about it, nor did he want to.
The most powerless thing is life and death, which are completely beyond human control.
But now he wants nothing more than to use everything he has to keep Chu Huaixu. That's all.
Snow began to fall heavily outside the window again, but Chu Huaixu's face was even paler than the snow.
Song Ting pressed her face against that thin, pale hand, and tears unknowingly soaked the entire palm.
He recalled that fleeting glimpse of Suzaku Street. At that time, he was only thinking about completing the mission and surviving. Who could have known that he would fall headlong into this mess?
By the time they realized it, the knife had already cut into their bone marrow, and they couldn't cut it off anymore.
To abandon Chu Huaixu would be to take his life.
"Little Qingxiang." Song heard a very low call.
He froze, tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes, hesitant to fall. He stood motionless, afraid to turn his head to look at the person on the bed, lest that soft call be just his imagination.
"Little Qingxiang, don't cry," the person said again.
He couldn't take any medicine or water, and could only moisten his lips with a handkerchief every day, which made Chu Huaixu's throat dry and made it very difficult for him to speak.
There was no trace of his usual cold and aloof tone, which was unpleasant to hear.
Song Ting sniffed; his nose was stuffy and he felt uncomfortable, but as a commander, he was concerned about his reputation and forced himself to hold it in.
Not wanting the man to see her silly tearful face, she didn't look at him, awkwardly turned away, and hastily wiped her face with her sleeve.
"I didn't cry," he stubbornly insisted.
"Yes, I didn't cry." Chu Huaixu reached out and touched his face. "Don't worry, I'm fine."
At this moment, Chu Huaixu looked to be in pretty good condition. His face, which had been pale and bloodless for days, seemed to have become rosy, his eyes were bright, and he had a beautiful smile.
"Does it hurt?" Seeing that he was awake, Song Ting didn't dare to touch him anymore. She withdrew her hand and looked at him with a helpless expression.
Chu Huaixu tried to sit up, propping himself up on the bed, so Song Ting placed a soft blanket under the headboard and carefully helped him up.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
Song Ting curled her lip, disbelieving him: "Liar."
"It really doesn't hurt anymore." Chu Huaixu smiled.
He wasn't lying to Song Ting; the pain that had been tormenting him day and night seemed to have truly disappeared from his body. He felt no pain at all, and even felt a little hungry and wanted to eat.
"Did I sleep for a long time?"
Hearing that he didn't seem to feel any pain, Song couldn't help but pull him into her arms, showering him with kisses on his forehead, eyebrows, and lips.
But the movements were very gentle, for fear of hurting anyone.
"It's been three days, you scared me to death."
Chu Huaixu smiled again, took the initiative to kiss Song Ting, and reached out to smooth out Song Ting's furrowed brows little by little: "It's my fault, please put it on my tab and punish me later."
“Okay,” Song Ting said in a hoarse voice, “You said it yourself, so don’t try to go back on your word later.”
"Yes, I won't cheat. However, I seem to be a little hungry. Could you please give me some food, sir..."
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