He opened his mouth to reply when a fierce cold wind blew over, penetrating his throat.
He clutched his chest as he coughed violently, a rosy hue spreading over his brows and eyes.
Su Luo was anxious as she helped him with his breathing, "Why are you coughing again? Is it because of the cold wind, or did you drink too much tonight? Let's go inside quickly!"
She supported Wei Shu as they walked toward the house.
The man's lips parted slightly, and he said soundlessly: "I hope that I can be with you until our hair turns white and our teeth fall out!"
After Chinese New Year's Eve, Wei Shu fell ill.
Throughout the past year, he had tried his best to follow the Imperial Physician's advice— to reduce exertion, to rest more, and to keep his spirits up.
But he was the Emperor of a nation; unless he chose to be a negligent ruler, there was always endless work to be done. It was already fortunate that his health hadn't worsened amidst all the mental and physical strain.
