Jiang Ling didn't know what he was thinking.

The wind in her ears was loud, like a sharp knife, slicing through the skin of her cheek inch by inch.

Bu Zhan didn't say anything, his steps were still steady, and he walked towards Tingyun Pavilion with long strides.

Heavy snow fell, falling one after another on their shoulders, eyebrows, and hair tips.

Without waiting for his answer, Jiang Ling's eyes dimmed.

Seeing Bu Zhan carrying her back to Tingyun Pavilion, the servants around him knelt on the floor in a hurry. They had not seen the prime minister for a long time, and everyone had different expressions at this scene.

"Greetings, welcome to the Prime Minister..."

Bu Zhan didn't pay attention to his left and right sides, he directly laid Jiang Ling flat on the couch and called for his trusted doctor.

The atmosphere around her was so oppressive that the doctor did not dare to look directly into Bu Zhan's eyes, so he stepped forward cautiously and took her pulse.

The whole time, Bu Zhan stood on one side, looking at the slightly hanging bed curtain, thinking about something.

Lying on the couch, Jiang Ling didn't have the extra energy to explore the look on his face.

Someone put more charcoal in the stove, and Tingyun Pavilion was rarely warm. The mist spread over the hanging veil, and the doctor cautiously looked forward and said: "Reporting to the Prime Minister, the lady is indeed pregnant."

"How is the fetus doing?"

"The fetus...is not very stable."

The other party said truthfully, "Madam is already physically weak and lacks Qi and blood. Now she has fetal gas. She needs to rest quietly before giving birth. Otherwise, there will be a risk of miscarriage and dystocia. Apart from using Chinese medicine to supplement it, I will wait and see.

Madam seems to be unhappy, so she needs to pay attention to her emotions on weekdays to avoid postpartum depression and illness."

Bu Zhan gave a shallow "hmm", which was regarded as understanding.

The doctor picked up his pen, prescribed another prescription for replenishing qi and blood, and handed it to him.

Jiang Ling turned her face sideways and looked at the man standing by the window, holding the prescription tightly with his slender fingers. There was a thin shadow of snow outside the window, and suddenly a bouquet of clean and gentle softness fell on him. Bu Zhan tilted his head slightly and looked carefully.

Listening to the doctor's speech.

There was a patience on his face that she had never seen before.

For just such a moment, Jiang Ling was in a daze and began to imagine what Bu Zhan would look like if he were an ordinary husband.

If they were an ordinary couple, they would definitely be very happy when their child was about to be born into this world.

She would rest comfortably on the couch, happily drink the chicken soup stewed by her husband, and look forward to choosing a meaningful name for her child.

She is very good at needlework and can start to embroider small clothes and tiger head hats.

What about Bu Zhan?

He would buy a bunch of toys that children like, such as dolls, windmills, rattles... He would also buy a comfortable stroller, and wrap the sharp edges of all the tables and chairs in the house with layers of soft cloth.

If they were an ordinary couple.

Looking at his figure, Jiang Ling's eyes grew hot, and sour tears welled up in her eyes.

Just at this moment, Bu Zhan turned around and looked over as if he was sensing something.

Jiang Ling turned her face to the other side, unwilling to look at him.

I don't know what he whispered to the doctor in a low voice. Finally, there was a "squeak" on the door. Bu Zhan screened away all the people on his left and right, and walked over with the bowl of freshly brewed soup.

Only the two of them were left in the huge inner bedroom, and her faint breathing could be heard.

The other party held the soup bowl in one hand, raised the bed curtain with the other, and called softly: "Jiang Ling."

The girl wiped her tears with the corner of her quilt, sniffed and answered.

"Drink medicine."

He still said these two words without any emotion.

On normal days, Jiang Ling would have sat up obediently and obediently taken the medicine bowl from the other party's hand. No matter how bitter the medicine soup was, she could drink it in one gulp without frowning, but now listening to Bu Zhan's words, she felt deep in her heart.

There was a faint sense of rebellion here and there.

Bu Zhan is treating her well now because of the child in her belly.

It was because of the child that he accommodated her and picked her up from the snow. It was even because of the child that he was willing to take the initiative to say a slightly caring word to her.

She suddenly felt that this was very boring.

"I don't really want to drink."

Bu Zhan's hand holding the medicine bowl tightened slightly.

The girl looked sad and said softly: "I'm tired, Mr. Prime Minister, please come back."

The man's eyes suddenly darkened.

In just a moment, the emotion in Bu Zhan's eyes dissipated. He placed the bowl beside the bed and said in a slow voice, "You don't have to drink, but you must not forget that everyone in the Jiang family is still in the hands of the original prime minister."

Jiang Ling turned her head suddenly, her eyes slightly rounded, and from these clear pupils, Bu Zhan actually saw a hint of anger.

The cold wind blew into the tent, causing her eyes to tremble violently.

Little bits of light and shadow fell into the girl's eyes, like a gorgeous butterfly. It should have been lingering among the bright flowers, but its fresh wings were torn off, and it froze to death on the eve of spring.

Her hands were hidden under the quilt, her sharp nails digging into her palms.

The two looked at each other for a moment.

This was the first time Jiang Ling looked at Bu Zhan so boldly. Contrary to her emotional excitement, the other party remained calm. His eyes were cold and calm, like a sharp dagger, piercing straight into her heart.

.

After a long while, she bit her white lips and finally accepted her fate.

With a few strands of black hair hanging down, Jiang Ling weakly lifted herself up from the couch and struggled to hold the medicine bowl.

One spoonful, two spoonfuls.

One bite, two bites.

The dark medicinal soup was steaming with steam, but no sugar cubes were added.

Her tears fluttered down and fell into the bowl, which she drank in one gulp.

finally.

She put down the spoon, put the bowl on the square table at hand, raised her pale face, and looked at the man beside the bed.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

not enough.

Not clean enough.

Suddenly, he reached out and picked up the soup bowl, and the bottom of the bowl was covered with a light layer of soup.

Bu Zhan stared at her coldly, pinched her chin with his fingers, and forcefully poured the last bit of the bitter medicine into her throat.

The bones of her mandible were clenched so painfully that they almost made a "squeaking" sound. Only when there was not a drop of soup left did the man slowly let her go.

Jiang Ling frowned and coughed violently on the couch.

The snow had been falling for several days and finally stopped. A warm light pierced the window and fell on her bloodless face.

Seeing her state of mind, Bu Zhan's eyes seemed a little loose.

In the end, he lowered his eyes and said in a calm voice:

"From now on, someone will give you medicine every morning, noon and evening. You'd better drink it all and don't let me feed you."

Before Jiang Ling could say anything, someone suddenly knocked on the door.

The visitor was Tan Zhao. When he walked into the room and saw the frail Jiang Ling on the couch, he was stunned for a moment, with a bit of unbearable expression on his face.

But when he saw Bu Zhan beside the bed, he immediately became serious again.

"Master Xiang."

Tan Zhao didn't know what he said in his ear, and the latter turned to look at Jiang Ling, and then walked out of Tingyun Pavilion.

In a dark, cage-like room, a middle-aged man was imprisoned.

Not long ago, the servants were ordered to execute everyone in the Jiang family if the prime minister never came.

Therefore, counting the hours, he threw a dagger to Jiang Wenhuai from left to right.

"Master Jiang, you can do it yourself, and we, the slaves, will not offend you."

The man sitting cross-legged on the ground slowly opened his eyes, glanced at the knife on the ground, and picked it up from the grass.

With a "crack" sound, the dagger was unsheathed and flashed with cold light.

Jiang Wenhuai pursed his lips and looked at his calm eyes reflected on the dagger.

After a long pause, he closed his eyes.

At the moment when the shadow of the knife passed by——

Suddenly something shook his wrist, causing a pain in his hand, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clang.
To be continued...