Shi Yan coughed up blood so violently that Yan Zhi felt sure it was a serious illness. She wondered whether Shi Yan had lung cancer or a severe bronchial disease.
But when she rummaged through his room and took out the medicine box, she found that it was filled with medication for external injuries, with nothing for treating the lungs or bronchi.
Shi Yan heard Yan Zhi thinking he had cancer, and he laughed. He didn't even have the strength to turn his face towards her now.
"I don't have long to live."
The weak voice spilled from his pale, dry lips. Yan Zhi's hands, holding an empty bowl, felt as if they were soaked in cold water, every finger frozen stiff by the chill.
"Let me talk to Third Master, and have them send you to the hospital. Do your parents know? The best hospitals in China are in Beijing—maybe you should go back to Beijing."
Shi Yan was amused by her naive words, "A hospital can't cure me, nor is there any technology that can stabilize my condition."
