Tong Minzhi's eyes were filled with fear. Xiuzhi had been by the concubine's side for over ten years, treating the siblings well and being wholeheartedly devoted to the concubine. Now that something like this had happened, how could the concubine not be heartbroken and shocked? He began to cry out of fright; after all, he was only six years old. He came over, clung to Xiqiu's arm, and said, "Sixth Sister, is Xiuzhi going to die? The concubine's old illness has flared up; I don't know how she is. Can I go with you?" He wept softly, his small frame leaning against the thin Xiqiu, surrounded by many people, yet they seemed so helpless and desolate.
Xiqiu, with red-rimmed eyes, went to wipe Tong Minzhi's tears: "Why are you crying? Stop crying now. The physician hasn't arrived yet, and you haven't seen her. Why say such things?" She then looked apologetically at the Lady: "Mother, Seventh Brother is young and probably frightened."
