Blackstone.
The air in the Li family's blacksmith shop was as turbid as a bowl of boiled medicine.
The smell of burnt coal ash, the earthy smell of iron filings, and the lingering smell of blood coughed up from the lungs mixed together and entered the nasal cavity.
Li Xuan hunched over and leaned against the cold corner. Every time I took a breath, my chest felt like there were countless tiny needles pricking me, causing pain. He reluctantly raised his hand and unfolded the washed white linen handkerchief.
On it, a pool of dark red blood had dried.
That's it again.
This damn consumption was like an invisible hand, grabbing his throat and dragging him into the mire.
Li Xuan's eyes dimmed. There were a few pieces of iron ore piled in the corner, the last valuable items in the shop. He originally planned to take it to the town drugstore early tomorrow morning to get a pair of life-extending decoctions.
But now it seems that I may not be able to survive tomorrow.
