Yangzhou City, the rear courtyard of Lin Ruhai's residence, the west-side embroidery chamber.
This was where the spiritual veins of Lin Manor converged and nourished the grounds. Every table and bed was carved from warm jade and spiritwood, and a faint spiritual aura hung in the air year-round.
The room's gauze curtains were woven from ice-silkworm spirit silk. Even without a breeze, they stirred on their own, spiritual energy flowing across them like rising, swirling clouds. The place had all the bearing of an immortal's abode.
Yet now, a heavy, oppressive stillness filled the chamber, impossible to dispel. Sorrow and gloom seemed almost tangible as they blanketed the room, making even the once-lively spiritual energy feel heavy.
Behind the carved rosewood screen, a young girl of about ten lay beneath a brocade quilt on an exquisite canopy bed.
A closer look revealed a face so pale it was almost translucent, utterly drained of color. Her long lashes were shut, and her breathing was so faint it could scarcely be heard, as though it might stop altogether at any moment. A wisp of dark, troubled qi lingered between her brows.
The girl was none other than Lin Daiyu, the eldest daughter of the Lin family. Her soul had been shaken, and she had lain unconscious for over ten days. It seemed she was on the verge of death.
Just then, the door to the bedchamber opened.
Lin Ruhai and Jia Yucun stepped quietly into the inner room, then stood in silence beside the bed for a moment.
Lin Ruhai reached out with a trembling hand and gently felt his daughter's pulse.
"!!"
The nearly imperceptible beat made his heart sink once more.
"..."
Jia Yucun stood beside him, studying Daiyu intently. Her spiritual energy was scattered, and a deathly stillness had