The physician jolted back but nodded furiously.
"Move aside, Your Highness, I need space!"
Zhao Yan didn't let go.
His arms tightened around her, refusing to relinquish her cold body.
"Your Highness—!" the physician pleaded.
Zhao Yan's jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might break—
But he forced himself to pull back.
Only slightly.
Only enough to allow the physician to work.
The moment he did, the physician immediately began.
He pressed down on her chest, his aged hands moving with urgency.
One, two, three, four—
Zhao Yan's fists dug into his thighs.
"Breathe," he whispered. His voice was shaking. "Hua Jing. Breathe."
She didn't.
The physician kept going.
Zhao Yan counted every compression.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Thirty.
"Come on, girl," the physician muttered under his breath. His forehead was slick with sweat.
