Quick Wear: Beautiful, Strong, Miserable, Whitening Guide

In the days that followed, Chu Ziyu still appeared to others as the aloof, noble, diligent and taciturn young emperor.

But in Lin Ci'an's eyes, some subtle changes are quietly taking place.

In the imperial study, it was so quiet that only the sound of the night watch and the rustling of papers could be heard.

Lin Ci'an was dealing with the documents on his desk, but most of his thoughts were on the person behind the desk.

He looked at Chu Ziyu holding the red pen and looking at the spread-out memorial, but his eyes did not move for a long time.

Those beautiful eyes lost focus, staring blankly at the light and shadow cast by the window frame, or at a certain point in the void, as if the soul had been pulled out, leaving only an exquisite but empty shell.

(Inside the system space, Chu Ziyu was sprawled on the virtual sofa, clutching a handful of holographic potato chips in one hand and slapping his thigh with the other.

"Aaaaaa! 6872! This villain is so cool! Such a cool character! Such a line! 'I am destiny!' Wow! He's even more pretentious than me!")

(System 6872: Boss, friendly reminder, your 'Destiny' is staring at you with a gaze that could freeze you to death, and this has lasted longer than an animated short.

His mind is probably going through the heartbreaking drama of "Is he disgusted with me?" and "Is he going to break?"

("Oh, let him use his imagination more and feel more sorry for me. Please deal with these memorials quickly!")

(I didn’t think of a way to take a complete break. I can’t just slack off.)

Chu Ziyu stuffed a handful of potato chips into his mouth and chewed them until they were crunchy.

(Besides, shouldn’t my character of “working hard for the country” be more established? Daydreaming is thinking about national policy, understand? Quick, next episode! The male protagonist is about to strike back!”)

Thus, light and shadow continued to flow in the system space, and the plot was ups and downs.

The outward manifestation was that Chu Ziyu's "daze" became more profound, and even the small movement of his fingertips unconsciously stroking the edge of the memorial stopped.

(I’m in a daze again…)

Lin Ci'an's heart sank slightly.

At first, he thought he was just tired or trapped by difficult political affairs.

He would deliberately step harder or cough lightly to try to call him back.

(Boss, Lin Ci’an is calling you, stop looking!!!)

(Tsk, it’s the critical moment!)

Chu Ziyu's reaction always made him feel inexplicably nervous.

As if disturbed from a bottomless dream, his long eyelashes would tremble, and then he would raise his eyes very slowly.

At first, there was always a trace of blank emptiness in those eyes. After a while, a faint light gradually gathered, reflecting his figure, but it was soon covered by a deep fatigue.

"nothing."

Or more simply, "Hmm."

("Please step back. My drama... no, my state affairs are not yet finished!")

He always answered like this, his voice so light that it was almost weightless, and then he would lower his eyelashes and bury himself again in the silent stillness, as if any communication with the outside world would consume his remaining energy.

What made Lin Ci'an even more panicked was that Chu Ziyu began to become sleepy.

Sometimes, while he was reviewing memorials, the red pen would slowly stop.

He would support his forehead with his hand, and at first it seemed as if he was just closing his eyes to rest, but soon his breathing would become even and shallow - he fell asleep.

(But in fact, Chu Ziyu was chasing dramas day and night, and he was running out of energy. In addition, there was a bunch of messy classical Chinese memorials in front of him, which was really hypnotic.)

Lin Ci'an would put down everything in his hands and approach quietly.

The sunlight outlines the side of Chu Ziyu's sleeping face. His skin is pale and almost transparent, and the pale blue shadow under his eyes is like ink. ("The smoky makeup limited edition for watching dramas all night")

It made him as fragile as a piece of carefully fired white porcelain that was already cracked, as if the slightest touch would shatter it completely.

Lin Ci'an would carefully take a thin blanket or his own outer robe from the side and drape it over his shoulders very gently.

He stood there, staring at the defenseless sleeping face, the uneasiness in his heart growing day by day, wrapping around and tightening like a vine, almost suffocating him.

(how so?)

He asked himself this question countless times in his heart.

(Is it because the government affairs are too heavy? Or is this throne really making him so unhappy?)

(Still me.)

He summoned the director of the Imperial Medical Bureau and ordered him to diagnose and treat the patient carefully.

The old doctor trembled as he felt the emperor's pulse, and ultimately concluded that "Your Majesty is overly worried, his heart and spleen are weak, and his vital energy is depleted." (Chu Ziyu: Of course, staying up late is bad for your health!)

The prescriptions prescribed are nothing more than some warming and nourishing prescriptions to calm the mind and replenish qi.

The thick medicinal juice was delivered on time every day. Chu Ziyu took it very obediently and drank it quietly one sip at a time, but he spoke less and less.

("Tun tun tun...Huh? Why is this tasteless?")

(I’ve blocked you, big boss. If I don’t block you, I’m afraid you’ll spit it out and affect your cool image.)

(...)

Lin Ci'an once held on to hope, hoping that the medicine would have some effect.

However, no.

He drank bowl after bowl of medicine, but it seemed to have no effect.

Chu Ziyu's calm state, as if his vitality was slipping away silently, did not improve at all.

He was still in a daze, still sleepy, still like an orchid out of water and soil, losing its vitality bit by bit before his eyes.

Lin Ci'an watched, the feeling of powerlessness and panic in his heart almost swallowed him up.

He would rather Chu Ziyu hated him, scolded him, or even despised him as he did before, than be like this now, as if he was indifferent to everything, including himself.

This silent and slow withering frightened Lin Ci'an more than any fierce resistance.

He felt like he was watching his most precious treasure slip through his fingers, but he couldn't catch it no matter what.