In the blink of an eye, three days had passed.
Twelfth Day of the First Lunar Month, Hour of the Snake.
Bianliang Imperial City, Funing Hall.
Ever since that violent coughing fit on the Tenth Day of the First Lunar Month, when he had coughed up blood, the condition of the twenty-four-year-old Emperor of Great Song had deteriorated as swiftly as floodwaters bursting through a dam.
The bitter chill of deep winter seemed to have thoroughly invaded his internal organs, leaving his chronic illness beyond cure.
At that moment, Zhao Xu lay on the bright-yellow dragon bed, his face the color of golden paper, already sunk deep into a fog of unconsciousness.
His once clear, sharp eyes now held nothing but scattered dullness.
His shriveled lips opened and closed faintly, while his throat emitted heavy, broken gasps like a damaged bellows. Yet he could no longer force out even a complete syllable.
Funing Hall was steeped in an acrid medicinal stench so thick it could not be dispelled, along with a suffocating silence.
The many imperial consorts of the inner palace, along with every renowned physician bearing the title of imperial doctor from the Imperial Medical Academy, waited trembling before the dragon bed.
At the center of the hall.
Chief Imperial Physician Li of the Imperial Medical Academy knelt beside the bed, extending two withered fingers to carefully rest upon Zhao Xu's wrist.
Feeling the pulse beneath his fingertips, so faint it was nearly at a complete standstill...
A dense layer of cold sweat instantly seeped across Physician Li's forehead, and his gray-white brows twisted tightly into an irresolvable knot.
His eyes were shut, his lips trembling slightly, yet he remained silent.
"Physician Li!"
Empress Liu, standing nearby with swollen red eyes, clutched her silk handkerchief tightly. Her voice could