Sun Xiu lay on his bed, the sound of coughing never once ceasing in the Inner Hall.
When Zhang Bu and Puyang Xing entered the Inner Hall with their heads lowered, there were even tears at the corners of the emperor's eyes.
He wanted to say something, but another violent fit of coughing seized him.
Zhang Bu and Puyang Xing dared not speak. They simply stood silently to one side, listening to the violent coughing.
Neither knew how long it lasted. By the end, Sun Xiu had been tormented half to death, and his gaze was somewhat unfocused as he looked at the two ministers before him.
His voice had lost its strength as well, as though all his usual authority had vanished in an instant.
Sun Xiu did not even dare take a deep breath. His throat was bright red, covered in dense scratch marks that had almost drawn blood.
He studied his two trusted aides and said, "I fear I do not have long left."
Zhang Bu's face changed in alarm, and he hurriedly prostrated himself. "Your Majesty! You must not say such things!"
Sun Xiu shook his head. "It is all right. With my illness having reached this point, death is no longer so frightening..."
They had no idea how terribly Sun Xiu had suffered. That unceasing pain had almost destroyed his will, driving even this emperor to madness. He had even wanted to take a knife and slit his own throat-that was how completely he had broken down.
By now, however, he no longer feared death.
Compared with such suffering, death was easier to accept.
He looked at the two men before him and said, "At this point, there is nothing else left for me to worry about, save my crown prince. I wish to entrust