Jinghe Year Fifteen, eighth month, twentieth day. The Feng Residence.
Grand Preceptor Feng Yan had been bedridden for half a month. Today, he could no longer rise at all.
The Director of the Imperial Medical Academy had entered the residence at the Yin Hour and had yet to leave.
The bedroom curtain hung low, and the Medicinal Vapor was so thick it seemed impossible to disperse.
Beneath the Corridor, Jiang Shi, Feng Ci, Fu Niang, and Wei Nisheng stood in a row. None of them sat down.
Jiang Shi clung to a veranda pillar. Feng Ci stood ramrod straight. Fu Niang leaned against Wei Nisheng's shoulder, tears brimming in her eyes, though she forced them back.
Wei Nisheng supported his wife with one hand, the other hanging at his side.
He gazed only at the curtain, utterly motionless.
The sun traveled from east to west.
At last, the curtain lifted.
The Director of the Imperial Medical Academy emerged. Seeing everyone beneath the Corridor, he paused.
Feng Ci hurried forward a step and bowed with clasped hands, his voice tight. "Director of the Imperial Medical Academy, my grandfather..."
The Director of the Imperial Medical Academy shook his head.
"The old Grand Preceptor... his pulse is as faint as a drifting thread. I fear this is the sign of the lamp going out," he said quietly.
"I have done all I can. Ginseng may sustain his life, but... alas! You should all... make preparations."
At those words, Jiang Shi finally cried aloud.
Fu Niang's tears fell too. She clutched Wei Nisheng's sleeve in a death grip.
Wei Nisheng did not cry. He steadied Fu Niang, then stepped forward.
"Director of the Imperial Medical Academy, my teacher... might he still regain consciousness?"
"Perhaps, from time to time. At most, the time it takes