No matter how Fu An tried to comfort her, she couldn't be appeased, and then Fu An would cry along with His Highness.
Even after growing up, she couldn't break this habit.
Just like now.
"Your Highness, don't cry. If you cry, my heart aches."
As he spoke, his voice was already choked with sobs.
—
After being exposed to the wind outside for a long time, Shen Yue got a fever again, but it wasn't severe. She felt much better after taking medicine.
However, her head was still muddled, and her cough was quite serious.
The room was very warm, with no trace of cold wind seeping in.
Fu An stayed by her side, unwilling to leave even at night. Cheng Qian Gong, on the other hand, had barely visited. He had likely given the military tally to Shen Yao Jin immediately, and the two might be plotting, naturally leaving him no time to visit.
Shen Yue had never restricted his freedom. He could leave whenever he wanted, go out whenever he pleased, without any obstruction.
Although she wasn't very ill, Shen Yue had become much more gaunt. She couldn't eat, and what little she managed to eat, she would throw up.
Fu An’s anxious expression was even more haggard than Shen Yue’s. Every day, he tried his best to prepare delicious and fresh food to nourish Shen Yue.
The sky cleared after the snow. The lazy winter sun pierced through the sparse tree shadows, illuminating the thick ice and snow, making it shine brilliantly with dappled light and shadow.
The window was opened a little. The room was filled with too strong a medicinal smell, which felt suffocating after a while.
The cold wind blew in, dispersing the medicinal odor in the room.
Shen Yue sat on the soft couch, her pale, sickly face strikingly white, as pure and flawless as congealed milk.
She was only draped in a thick, dark cloak, her ink-black hair falling over her shoulders. In her hand, she held a brush, teasing a turtle that was struggling to crawl. Her fingers were slender, subtly revealing a distinct, sickly frailty.
The turtle, with its extremely slow pace, slid a distance, only to be nudged back by the brush, repeatedly climbing and repeatedly being pushed down, utterly content.
Faint sounds could be heard from outside the door.
"I've met Lord Cheng..."
Not long after, the door was pushed open. Cheng Qian Gong, whom she hadn't seen in a while, walked in, clad in white. There was no snow on him, only a chill. He stood for a moment, and after the chill dissipated from his body, he walked over.
Shen Yue acted as if she hadn't noticed him, lowering her gaze to continue teasing the turtle.
It had only been a few days, yet Shen Yue appeared to have become even thinner. She had heard she had caught a cold again. Cheng Qian Gong, swamped with matters, had rushed over as quickly as possible. Upon seeing Shen Yue in this state, his heart trembled.
He moved closer, his pale lips moving. After a long pause, he finally spoke hoarsely, "Your Highness, are you feeling any better?"
Shen Yue didn't look up. Her shoulders were delicate, her eyelashes long and thick, casting a faint shadow beneath her eyelids.
Her expression was placid, her brows and eyes devoid of warmth.
The turtle was crawling upwards at an extremely slow pace.
"Much better."
The fingers of Cheng Qian Gong's hands, hanging by his sides, instinctively twitched. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, his eyes veiled with a dim, unreadable light. His thin lips uttered words that sounded like concern, "Your Highness, why do you neglect your health so? The wind outside is strong; Your Highness should go out less."
His words seemed to convey concern, yet Shen Yue felt as if she could perceive the coldness in his gaze.
The hand gripping the brush tightened involuntarily, faint blue veins subtly bulging.