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Dusk filtered softly through the carved lattice window like gauze, spilling a haze of light and shadow.
Above the bluestone desk, a glazed Soul Lamp floated gently up and down, its light flickering as though whispering secrets unknown to others.
Lian Shouzhong slowly opened his eyes amid the bitter medicinal fumes. In an instant, a dull pain surged through his skull, as though ten thousand silver needles were stabbing into it, making him frown despite himself.
Looking up, he saw his grandfather's hand, thin and dry as withered bamboo, hovering three inches above his head. Golden threads formed from soul power, slender as swimming snakes, were slowly being drawn out through the crown of his head.
"You're awake?" Lian Changzhi's voice remained as warm and gentle as ever, but the Canghui cloud patterns subtly embroidered on his cuffs trembled with his breathing.
Lian Shouzhong struggled to push himself upright. His five fingers gripped the sandalwood bedframe hard enough to leave shallow dents, a testament to the depth of the pain he endured.
"I've made you exhaust yourself, Grandfather..." His voice was weak and tinged with guilt.
The withered palm suddenly settled over the pulse point on his wrist. Lian Changzhi examined him carefully and found the flow of soul power through his meridians sluggish and clogged, like a silted pond.
"Are your internal organs still holding steady?"
Before his words had faded, the boy coughed up a mouthful of stagnant blood. It splashed across his plain white underrobe like red plum blossoms falling onto snow, a startling sight.
Only after regulating his breathing for the time it took to drink half a cup of tea did Lian Shouzhong speak hoarsely. "The old injuries to my body are nothing serious. It's just..."
His trembling