Chapter 11: The Emperor is Gravely Ill

Chapter 11

She was already feeling a blur between reality and fantasy. Trembling, she pushed the medicine box back under the bed, but the moment the medicine box slid under the bed, it vanished.

She didn't dare breathe for three seconds, reaching under the bed to feel around. Indeed there was nothing there anymore.

She trembled as she slowly crawled back into bed, breathing heavily.

The things that had happened recently were beyond her knowledge and expertise. Her professional and amateur knowledge could not provide an answer. When humans encounter the unknown, they feel fear. She really felt afraid now.

The door was flung open with a "bang." Yuan Qingling hadn't yet propped herself up to look before feeling the air fill with indifference and aloofness. She only felt a pain in her scalp as she was flung from the bed onto the floor.

"Are you pretending to be dead for this king? Hurry up and go die, or get up and get dressed to enter the palace with this king." The cold voice exploded above her head. She was roughly flipped over, her back hitting the floor painfully, making her tremble all over. Before she could gasp a breath, her chin was seized in an iron grip, so powerfully it nearly crushed her jaw.

Her pained eyes collided with his furious ones. His face was icy and savage, filled even more with unconcealable contempt and hatred. "This king warns you, don't try any more tricks. If you spout more nonsense in front of the empress dowager, this king will take your life."

Yuan Qingling was furious from the pain. A human life was so worthless in their eyes? She was already severely injured, yet they were still unwilling to let her go.

Mustering all her strength, she grabbed his hair and yanked down, using her knees to prop up her body and slamming her head heavily into his face. She was prepared to go down in flames with this last strike.

Yuan Qingling's whole body throbbed with pain. Especially when they cut open her clothes and gently peeled off the garments stuck to her skin, her entire body quivered. But she didn't make a sound, her throat scorched as if on fire, unable to utter a word.

Washing the wounds, scraping off congealed blood, applying medicinal powder - she silently endured the entire process as if trapped in a nightmare that she would awake from.

She heard Lv Ya ask: "Amah, do we really need to give her the Imperial Gold Soup?"

"We must, or I'm afraid she won't make it," Qi Amah replied with a sigh.

"But this Imperial Gold Soup..."

"No more nonsense, hurry and prop up the Consort."

Yuan Qingling, like a clump of tattered cotton, was lifted up. Warm liquid flowed into her mouth, very bitter. She had nearly lost the ability to swallow.

"Drink up, Consort. You'll be alright after you drink it down," Qi Amah said gently by her ear.

Eager to escape this torment, Yuan Qingling gulped it down in one breath.