Last night, Emperor Wu Su's wounds had reopened, and he'd coughed up blood again. 'I hope nothing terrible has happened.'
She hurried forward anxiously, but an arm clad in coarse linen blocked her path.
Le Xi spoke in an unhurried tone. "Don't be so anxious, lass. If it were time for national mourning, the entire realm would know. Since no such news has spread, it means the Emperor is still hanging on by a thread."
It would have been better if he hadn't said anything. Now that he had...
'National mourning...'
The moment Ji Qingwu thought of it, her vision swam and her knees went weak.
*
No sunlight penetrated Zhaoyang Hall. The windows were all covered with heavy drapes, perhaps to prevent outsiders from discovering the Emperor's true condition.
The room was dimly lit.
Emperor Wu Su had already read through four or five Buddhist sutras meant to calm the mind, but they were utterly useless.
