The carriage rolled over the potholed dirt road, making a creaking groan, as if it was about to fall apart at any moment. Gu Lin was leaning in the carriage covered with thick cotton padding. His face was so pale that it was almost transparent, but his lips had an abnormally bright red color. He raised his hand to cover his chest, and the violent cough was suppressed in his throat, which made his chest hurt, and thin cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
"Master Marquis, hold on, we will reach the boundary of Qingyang City ahead." The driver, Old Chen, said with a bit of worry in his voice, and deliberately slowed down the car, "The road in this damn place is really difficult. I feel sorry for you."
Gu Lin waved his hand and barely managed to squeeze out a few words while gasping for air: "It doesn't matter, we are on our way."
But in his heart he felt like a mirror, the road was difficult to walk, and it was clear that the court wanted him to die on the way. He was Gu Lin, a member of the royal family, who had been on the sickbed since childhood. Logically speaking, he should have been forgotten and lingered in a corner of the capital. But he had undue ambition hidden in his bones, and during a royal hunt, he accidentally showed some ingenuity beyond ordinary people, and was resented by the aloof emperor.
