"Your Majesty!"
"Your Majesty?!"
"Quick, quick, take His Majesty's pulse!"
"Imperial Physicians!"
The sudden panic caught everyone off guard and left them at a loss. The Imperial Physicians were jostled out from the side and pushed bodily before the Son of Heaven.
The young Imperial Physician was pale. Someone accidentally kicked him several times, but he did not even dare lift his head. He seemed badly frightened.
Fortunately, an elderly minister beside him pulled him aside and had him kneel a little farther away. Otherwise, a Stampede would have broken out already.
After coughing up blood, Chu Xuanzhen had veins bulging at his temples. His meticulously arranged hair had become somewhat disheveled from holding Shen Yangge so tightly.
Fresh red blood soaked his crossed collar and a broad swath of his chest, as though black and imperial yellow had blended together into a horrifying sight.
His eyes were stretched wide with anguish, his breathing rapid. With trembling fingers, he checked for Shen Yangge's breath again and again, always with the same result, the same ending.
Even so, Chu Xuanzhen refused to believe it. He could convince neither his heart nor himself. His expression twisted, an oppressive air enveloping everything around him, while the storm roiling in his eyes spilled out as though he had gone mad.
He pressed his face against Shen Yangge's cheek. His bloodstained hand gripped the back of Shen Yangge's neck, his long fingers threading into his hair as he held his body in a vise.
Once, he had believed that no one in the world could separate them.
Once, he had also believed that wherever the man in his arms fled, he would find him, catch him, seize him.
But now, at this very moment, all he could do was hold his still-warm body. He could