For some time now, Feng City had been plagued by endless drizzle, and the already murky sky looked even darker. Thick black clouds hung low, as though a massive pot had been clamped over their heads.
The quilts and clothes at home were all damp and moldy. Even people themselves carried a musty smell.
"Everything's about to mold," the neighbors would say whenever they greeted one another.
Because Feng City lay on the empire's frontier, the temperature dropped sharply whenever it rained.
It was now late autumn, around the eighth or ninth month of Tiandu, yet Feng City seemed to have entered winter ahead of time.
The chill seemed to burrow out from the depths of one's bones. It was hard to resist and harder still to warm oneself against, eerily resembling the Netherworld Cold Poison afflicting Lu Qingming.
"Urgh..."
"Urgh..."
Wave after wave of noisy retching rang out.
He retched until his voice turned hoarse and his heart and lungs felt torn apart.
A woman's voice came with words of comfort, while the maids hurried in and out, cleaning up without the slightest panic. Their footsteps were light and nimble, and hardly any commotion could be heard.
"Urgh..."
Another violent bout of vomiting rang out, as though he meant to throw up even the organs in his chest.
Spread across the floor was a large pool of green liquid.
It was the remains of the food Lu Qingming had just vomited. Lu Qingming's condition was growing worse by the day.
"Qingming, Qingming, how do you feel? Do you feel any better?" Gongsun Yu rested Lu Qingming's head on her thigh, her right hand gently stroking his back without pause, helping him calm his breathing so he could feel even the slightest bit more comfortable.
Gongsun Yu was no Martial