Song Ci entered the sleeping chamber with Lin Qing, and upon seeing the girl lying on the bed, pale and lifeless, his heart felt heavy.
Song Ruqi was barely sixteen. Raised in luxury since childhood, she had always lived freely and vividly, never like now—lifeless and as if she were a dead person devoid of spirit.
Song Ci recalled the prideful and arrogant demeanor of this spoiled girl from the past and compared it to her half-dead state now, his eyes warmed with tears.
A developed fetus, once miscarried, causes great harm to the mother's body—did he not know that?
It's equivalent to giving birth to a child.
"Gu Shi, step aside," Song Ci took a deep breath.
Madam cried uncontrollably as Lu Shi pulled her away, yet her eyes never left the daughter with tightly shut eyes on the bed.
Song Ci: "Nanny Fang, don't allow too many people in this room. Everyone go out. Lin Qing, come over and examine Qi'er."
