Zhao Qichen had already forgotten how long it took him to recover.
Even though he didn't understand medicine, he was still clear about what the symptoms of tuberculosis meant.
Seeing two venerable old physicians terrified by him, he supported his feeble arms and gestured for them to stand up.
Li Deming stepped forward to help the two old physicians up and stood by their side.
Looking at them, Zhao Qichen finally took a long breath, bracing himself to ask the question he feared the most.
"Approximately...how much time is left?"
Silence.
Death-like silence.
The two physicians looked at each other, thinking the Emperor was the one sick, they knelt down again.
"Your Majesty, solely relying on the pulse case is not accurate; if possible, it's best to personally have a pulse diagnosis for a conclusive judgment!"
Zhao Qichen was in difficulty.
Would his father and mother, who kept it so tightly under wraps, be willing to come for a pulse diagnosis?
