Xie Qikang leaned weakly against the large pillow in the carriage, one hand covering his chest, gasping for breath.
This time awakening, he felt even more pain than before, with a chest tightness as if it wanted to explode at any moment; even taking a breath felt excruciating.
Grinding his teeth, Xie Qikang cursed inwardly; if it really was Ling Rong’s ghost causing trouble, he would ensure she would never find peace.
Thinking of this, the pain in Xie Qikang’s chest seemed to intensify, and he groaned.
"Madam, my chest feels so tight, could you rub it for me?" Xie Qikang said with a trembling voice, turning towards Mrs. Zhou sitting beside him.
Upon looking at her, his heart skipped a beat.
Mrs. Zhou just stared at him, saying nothing, her expression indescribably complex, full of unspoken words.
Xie Qikang’s heart pounded erratically, a foreboding feeling that something was out of control; he waved his hand in front of Mrs. Zhou and asked, "Madam? What’s wrong?"
"Last night at the post station, a junior doctor declared that my lord would not live past three days," Mrs. Zhou spoke haltingly.
Xie Qikang’s face turned pale, his facial muscles twitching: "Who is this person, trying to scare you? Haven’t many doctors said my body has nothing wrong?"
"I also thought the same," Mrs. Zhou lowered her head.
Xie Qikang breathed a sigh of relief, but he was extremely annoyed inside. What kind of nonsense, bringing such bad luck?
"Right, my lord mentioned seeing a child at the Charitable Hall, wanting to bring him home?"
Xie Qikang’s eyes softened immediately, "Indeed, that child seemed very bright and looked a bit like me. That day when I went to the Charitable Hall, he rushed into my arms, and I felt a special connection with him. When we return from Ningzhou, if madam likes him after seeing him, we’ll bring him home to raise as our son, to care for us in our old age?"
Mrs. Zhou wanted to agree, but recalling Qin Liuxi’s words, she lost her enthusiasm, "Given my lord’s condition, I’m not even considering this matter, let’s wait until you’re better."
Xie Qikang frowned, "I was thinking, having a child at home would make things livelier, and who knows, maybe my health will improve."
Mrs. Zhou’s breathing stopped for a moment as she looked at him intently.
Xie Qikang felt creeped out by her stare and asked, "What... what’s wrong?"
Mrs. Zhou lowered her eyelids, "Nothing, I just suddenly remembered that my lord has an uncle. After all these years, they say nothing is more important than an uncle’s family, why don’t we go and pay our respects?"
Upon hearing this, Xie Qikang’s expression cooled, and he said excitedly, "I have always said, he looked down on me for being a poor scholar, and I’ve long since stopped interacting with them as if they were dead to me. Why don’t you remember?"
Mrs. Zhou had yet to speak when the carriage suddenly became cold, and a foul smell filled the air.
Xie Qikang’s pupils shrank violently as he pressed himself against the carriage wall, his face pale as he pointed towards the carriage door, "You, you..."
Ling Rong, gnashing her teeth in hatred. "Xie Qikang, you deserve to die!"
Her own father was clearly killed by him, and yet he still slandered her father?
Mrs. Zhou was startled and looked in the direction of his gaze, feeling a chill, but there was nothing there.
With a cry, Xie Qikang shielded his eyes with his sleeve, but his hand was still clutching his chest—pain, his heart was in so much pain.
"My lord?" Mrs. Zhou was terrified, her hands trembling as she reached out.
Xie Qikang, clutching his chest, collapsed in the carriage, thick veins bulging on his neck, his forehead drenched in cold sweat, groaning in agony; his eyes were filled with terror as he looked somewhere, his lips quivering, his pupils dilated, breathing gradually weakening, until it ceased.
After a while, a piercing scream erupted from the carriage.