Qin An lay curled up on the snow, his lips and face cyan, speaking in a whisper so weak he seemed on the verge of death.
Qin Hu sighed inwardly. Qin An was suffering purely because of him, and if things kept going this way, the two of them would undoubtedly die.
Those who wanted him dead hadn't managed to finish him off in the imperial court, so they had resorted to underhanded blows and ambushes in the military camp, determined to hound him to the grave.
Chapter 861