His eyes slowly changed from bloodshot to pitch-black. Anyone who glimpsed them at that moment would have been shocked.
Those eyes were so black they resembled an abyss where nothing could be seen, inspiring terror.
Chu Xuanzhen furrowed his brows. The scrap of paper pinched in his hand tore apart, and tiny shreds slipped between his long fingers, scattering across the floor. His other hand pressed down on a memorial, the veins on its back bulging.
He seemed to be enduring something with tremendous effort, struggling to control himself and maintain his usual clarity.
Chu Xuanzhen knew his illness had flared up again. This episode was worse than the last. He was considering taking that red pill again, but he could not be certain he would recover as he had before.
Or perhaps he no longer dared to gamble with his own body, because if anything truly happened to him, Little Liar would never return to his side.
He did not want to see that happen, much less imagine how it would end.
With a sudden sweep of Chu Xuanzhen's sleeve, the memorials scattered across the floor. Most urged him to ascend the throne immediately.
He suddenly narrowed his eyes. His pitch-black pupils were filled with a deathly stillness. He had pushed his restraint to its limit, yet his body still slipped beyond his control.
For instance, he could not stop his foot from stepping on the memorials strewn across the floor.
He picked up the ink beside the desk and flung it down. Black ink splashed all over the memorials.
Drip, drip...
Ink trickled from the topmost memorial down onto the others beneath it.
The memorials, filled with lengthy arguments painstakingly written through the night, were ruined in an instant.
Chu Xuanzhen remained expressionless. Even the downturned corners of