I slowly pulled the brocade quilt up over Mùróng Zhuó, but he suddenly and irritably pushed it away from his shoulders.
With a hint of displeasure, he said, "Your Majesty, I can manage myself."
I turned to look at the old imperial physician who had been standing quietly behind me, slowly rose to my feet, and called him aside. In a stern voice, I demanded, "What is wrong with the Prime Minister's eyes?"
Chapter 219