The palace had not slept.
Not a single corner of it.
Not after what happened to Lady Chen.
Lanterns still burned through the night, servants moved in hushed voices, and fear lingered silently in every corridor.
Inside the Emperor's chamber—
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Heavy with incense, medicine, and despair.
—
On the bed, Lady Chen lay motionless.
Her face had become even paler than before.
The faint traces of blood near her lips had been cleaned away, but her breathing remained weak.
Too weak.
Every breath looked painful.
—
Beside her, the healer continued trying everything.
Acupuncture.
Medicinal herbs.
Ancient breathing techniques.
Nothing worked.
Sweat dripped down his forehead despite the cold night air.
His hands trembled slightly.
Because he knew—
This was beyond medicine.
—
The Emperor stood nearby.
Silent.
Watching.
—
His eyes had not left her for hours.
Not once.
—
"…Your Majesty."
The healer finally lowered his head.
