On a cloudy afternoon, the heavy clouds hung low.
Beneath the artificial hill and pavilion of the Grand Preceptor's Mansion, a pool of water lay still, like a gently polished mirror.
In the pavilion, several people leaned against the railing on the long bench; Qi Yutai, clad only in an undershirt, with a thin silk robe draped over his shoulders, was taking a bowl of medicine from a maidservant.
In just a short month, Qi Yutai had lost a considerable amount of weight, his clothes hung loosely on him, and he appeared much more haggard. His complexion was pale, and his eyes lacked any luster.
He received the bowl of medicine and seemed to be overwhelmed by the bitterness, his lifeless eyes moved slightly, revealing an expression of barely tolerable discomfort. He hesitated for a while, then drank the entire bowl of medicine in fits and starts.
