A/N
Dear Lovely Readers,
I just wanted to clear up some points about yesterday's/the previous chapter, specifically the part when Qingheng-Jun wakes up. He is not a reliable narrator because he's disorientated, he's thirsty so definitely dehydrated, and his bladder is crying out for relief so he's distracted. Now, added to all of that is the "water" in the cup which tastes funny because it's wine poisoned with yew berries, making him delirious to boot. By this time, the poison is already making him feel highly uncomfortable. Then, if we pile on the panic about dying then really, nothing he experiences can be trusted. Yew berries are so toxic that any direct contact leads to instant death.
Also, it is the middle of the night, and with only the light of the moon to go by, he's liable to scream at any shadow, frankly.
Yes, Xue Yang killed him, but he was actually quite nice about it.
It may or may not come up in the story - i really don't plan anything, so we'll see. I hope this explains a bit.
All my love,
Charlie 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫
******************
Chapter 94
A sharp knock on the door at quarter past five in the morning interrupts Lan Qiren as he pours his first cup of the day. Everyone else is asleep, so he stands up to answer it himself. The disciple bows and steps back.
"Healer Fei is asking for you urgently," the young man says, keeping his eyes lowered. He's clearly agitated and afraid to show it.
Lan Qiren does not sigh, or think about the tea going to waste behind him. He puts his boots on and follows the disciple back to the infirmary. Might as well start the day.
They can hear shouting even before they get to the doors, and Lan Qiren hurries past his companion to see what the matter is. Lan Ping is shouting at Healer Fei who is glaring back in disbelief.
They're both outside the room where Qingheng-Jun is resting. Healer Fei's relief is obvious as Lan Qiren joins him.
"Good morning, Healer Fei. What seems to be the problem?"
"Good morning, Zongzhu. It appears that Qingheng-Jun suffered a massive heart attack last night, or in the early hours of this morning. I'm afraid he passed away."
"What?"
"My point exactly! Now, let us in to see him!" Lan Ping demands.
Lan Qiren can't believe it. He had left his brother alive and well last night, if not at all in good spirits. Granted, their parting had not been amicable, but at least Qingheng-Jun had been breathing.
"Very well." Healer Fei lets out a long suffering sigh and opens the door.
Straight away, there is the bitter, cloying tang of stale urine, an immediate sign of ill omen. As they approach the bed, they see the unmoving, too still body of Qingheng-Jun lying on the bed with the cotton sheets twisted between his legs, his face fixed in an expression of agony. There are claw marks, scratchings around the pale skin of his neck. The dark circles around his eyes are even more prominent in the candlelit room, casting tall shadows across the walls.
"Why does he look like that?" Lan Ping shrinks away, covering half of his face with his long, billowing sleeve.
He's referring to the almost skeletal remains of Qingheng-Jun's body, the way his skin seems to cling to his bones with very little fat or muscle, how each of his ribs can be seen through the flimsy cotton voile of his white sleeping robes, the dips and hollows of his collarbones deeper than on a healthy person.
