Li Fuyou, having been severely ravaged by illness, fell sick again. He slept unusually deeply, from the afternoon straight through to the next morning's dawn.
In the morning, Li Fuyou slowly opened his eyes, and, as usual, got up early to relieve himself.
Propping up his exhausted body, he got out of bed to heed nature's call when he looked down to attend to his third leg.
His face instantly turned ashen white, and his heart couldn't help but flutter—what on earth was happening? Why wasn't his third leg "rising" this morning?
He tried hard to calm himself down—it couldn't be. He must be overthinking it.
It must be because he was sick, weakened by his illness. In a few days, when he regained his strength, it would be fine again. It had to be.
Limping back into the room, he heard a knock at the door, "Knock knock."
Then came Amo's voice, "Young master!"
"Come in. The door's not latched."
