No sign as yet,

november 6, 1922

15 days

When Ling faints in the middle of the afternoon, she thinks nothing of it; it's routine. She could fix it herself with a plate of pork buns and a mug of cocoa- she knows that, but she's not going to break protocol. Especially when it comes to her lord's safety.

So, she carries him from the courtyard to his bedroom through a well-hidden passage, built immediately after the palace doctors were informed of his condition. No one in Xing is meant to know that their Emperor has the capacity to be fragile, and Lan Fan is willing to play along.

The doctor arrives in the Imperial chambers soon after she does. She's already vacated to the rafters when the portly old man bursts in, scratching the back of his mostly-bald head and pulling anxiously at his ponytail, which seems to be holding on by a thread.

Lan Fan observes the doctor as he checks the Emperor's heartbeat, presses forceful fingers to his chest and neck; Ling's forehead has become slick with sweat, his complexion ruddy even though he hasn't done any physical activity all day.

The doctor finishes his examination abruptly and turns his gaze on her. "You're Lan Fan, correct?" She startles, caught off guard by his bluntness and his willingness to address her directly- no one is supposed to acknowledge the Emperor's guard without direct orders from the Emperor himself. She nods dumbly.

"His Imperial Majesty will want you here when he wakes up," he says with almost off-putting confidence. "Don't let anyone else take your place. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but-"

"And don't let him get out of bed when he's awake. I'm aware that he can be stubborn, but keep him down and send someone to come get me. Don't leave his side."

She wonders if it's a job requirement for doctors to be so frank. "Of course."

"Keep your eyes on him, alright? He'll be fine, but just-"

"Watch him. I understand."

The doctor nods once and turns quickly out of the room with his lips pressed into a disbelieving line, leaving Lan Fan alone at the Emperor's bedside; with practiced agility, she climbs up into the rafters to survey the room better.

Ling is quiet in his sleep, which Lan Fan is entirely unaccustomed to. She's used to him shifting around as he regains consciousness, stretching out thin hands to grab her wrists and mumbling "food" in an endearingly whiny tone- but it's been nearly fifteen minutes and he still hasn't begun to squirm around, which begins to raise alarms on the outskirts of Lan Fan's mind that she quickly pushes away. He's only overexerted, she thinks, noting that she'll have to bully him into eating more than enough breakfast for the next few days so he can regain his strength.

Lan Fan crouches on the ceiling beam for over half an hour before Ling begins to wake up. She sees the signs of it in the way that his eyes begin to twitch beneath his eyelids, his fingers gripping the sheets so hard that she thinks they may tear. "L-"

Hearing the first syllable of her name, she leaps to the ground and moves to kneel at his bedside, her hand hovering just above his tensed arm, his knuckles turning white with the effort of keeping such a tight hold on the bedsheet. "I'm here, my lord."

"Lan Fan," he says in full. He can't hear her, hardly registers she's there, but his hand begins to gravitate toward hers. She doesn't move as he digs his fingernails into her flesh, but can't help sucking in air through her teeth at the stinging pain. "Lan-"