Upon arriving back at the chamber, his women hurried to his side, their faces etched with fatigue. Shen Yu held up the jade bottle, the blue-gold light of the pill shimmering through the translucent stone.
"The pill is finished," he stated, his voice raspy from the alchemical fumes.
Lixue took the bottle with trembling hands, her eyes bright with hope. She carefully moved to the bedside and tried to place the pill against her mother's lips, but Yilan's jaw was locked tight in a trauma-induced trance.
Even when they managed to part her lips, the pill sat motionless on her tongue; her throat was unresponsive, her body refusing to cooperate with the healing process.
"Can we not use our Qi to push it down and help it dissolve?" Meng Yan asked, her brow furrowed in concentration.
