Panshu followed up his words and asked, "What does the Buddha say?"
Jiang Zhan smiled, his pale face, which was hiding a trace of fatigue, suddenly became gorgeous and hard to look at. "The Buddha said that this calamity will not stop until Ziqian's tendons and bones are torn apart, and his skin is peeled off alive, and the pain is excruciating."
He rubbed his soft cheek against Pan Shu gently, "But, you see, even Buddha can be wrong."
The boy coughed softly.
This time he coughed up blood, and a flower of blood instantly bloomed on the thin white quilt.
Jiang Zhan stared at the bloodstain and pursed his lips. "Your Highness, were you frightened by Ziqian?"
Pan Shu shook her head. "How long have you been like this?"
Three years.
Jiang Zhan thought.
From the year when the plague broke out in Yongzhou City.
Until now. A long, long time.
He wanted to—
This may be Buddha's punishment for him.
Who told him to lie?
It was obvious that there was no way, but he still boasted that he could cure the plague.
But Jiang Zhan has no regrets.
His Highness had never smiled at him like that, never been so gentle.
His little god smiled with eyes curved in a beautiful way, and her smile coincided with his own, which was looking at him from afar in the crowd, without any warning.
Jiang Zhan was very satisfied.
As long as his Highness is happy.
No matter what the cost, Jiang Zhan will do it.
But this broken body is really useless.
I got sick after just a few blood draws.
I have been sick until now.
This made His Highness worry about him.
Ban Shu asked again, "Jiang Zhan, you can't lie."
The boy's body stiffened. After a while, his muffled voice came out from between his fingers, "I can't remember."
Your Highness will blame himself.
Jiang Zhan doesn't want Your Highness to blame himself.
Look—
Jiang Zhan is stupid, vicious, and evil. I hope His Highness will remember him forever.
But he still couldn't bear to see His Highness feel sad for him.
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