Watching Yan Qinghe lie unconscious and pale, tucked neatly beneath layers of silk as though she were already on her deathbed, was unbearable for Yan Wuhen.
She was his sister. His twin.
They had shared a womb.
Only four people were present in the chamber. Himself, Ningyan, Lanyin, and Yu Xuanli.
Wuhen moved closer and gently brushed his fingers through Qinghe's hair before pressing two fingers to the side of her neck.
A steady pulse.
She was alive. Very much alive.
He exhaled slowly, then lifted the sleeve of her dress without hesitation, tearing it all the way up to her shoulder.
What he saw made his jaw tighten.
Blackened veins crawled beneath her skin, bruised and swollen, fresh yet decaying all at once. Worse still, they pulsed faintly like something alive, beating beneath her flesh.
"What… is that?" Yu Xuanli gasped.
Ningyan and Lanyin stepped closer.
"That's not normal," Ningyan said grimly. "It looks like it's spreading."
