After Chu Tianyin realized all was lost, he used every means at his disposal to try to have himself imprisoned as close to Chu Xuanzhi's cell as possible.
But despite all his efforts, he never succeeded.
Life in the Heavenly Prison was unbearably dull. Apart from the occasional passing guard, there was no one else.
Chu Tianyin had always kept an ear out for news from outside. Unfortunately, those people deliberately lowered their voices when they talked, as though trying to keep him in suspense. Later, he simply stopped listening, only for them to change their tactics and insist on telling him, more relentlessly than before.
No one came to visit him. He knew his crimes were grave. Few of his former friends and followers were likely still around, and they could not avoid him quickly enough. Why would they come to see him?
Besides, even if anyone wanted to, they would not be allowed in.
Yet Chu Tianyin was waiting for something, though even he did not know what. Day after day passed. With winter approaching, he fell gravely ill. He wanted treatment and medicine, but he was a condemned criminal. Giving him food was already an act of mercy.
Why would anyone summon a physician to treat him?
And so his illness grew steadily worse, from coughing at first to dry heaving, then coughing up blood.
One day, he woke to find that he could no longer move. For an instant, terror seized him, but then he grew calm again. He seemed to have accepted it. His eyes were still, without the slightest flicker of emotion.
Illness made people fragile. On the second day after his whole body went limp, Chu Tianyin could not even stop the tears from spilling from his eyes.
He was so, so tired