Inside, the healing wing was dimly lit, and most of the patients were already asleep or sedated. Yueshuang crept through the shadows, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain someone would hear it.
She found Lian in a small private room at the far end, a concession to his status as an adopted son, however nominal. The door was unlocked; after all, who would try to visit a dying slave in the middle of the night?
Yueshuang slipped inside and closed the door behind her, her hands shaking as she finally, finally, laid eyes on him.
He looked like death.
His skin, normally pale, was now a sickly gray-white. His lips had taken on a bluish tinge. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the coolness of the room, and his breathing was so shallow she had to watch carefully to see his chest rise and fall.
