A Death Occurs

Outside the entrance of Suxin Pavilion, the crowd waiting in line had been standing for ages, shivering and stamping their feet in the biting cold.

They’d all arrived early, hoping to secure a spot and get in first—maybe then they could head home sooner. Most hadn’t even eaten breakfast, so now they were both hungry and freezing.

One especially irritable man was pacing restlessly, hugging his shoulders and grumbling nonstop about how cold and hungry he was.

Suddenly, a loud scream burst from the irritable man's attendant. Everyone whipped around, only to see the man collapse to the ground, his whole body convulsing as foam spilled from his mouth.

His attendant quickly jammed a wooden stick between his teeth to stop him from biting his tongue, then shouted in panic, "Help! My master’s having an epileptic fit! Somebody help!"

The crowd was caught off guard. Someone yelled, "He probably got sick from not eating and standing in the cold for so long! Hurry, get him inside Suxin Pavilion to warm up! Who’s going to fetch a doctor?"

The attendant nodded frantically, and everyone scrambled to help carry the convulsing man inside.

Princess Mira saw the commotion as the crowd dragged a convulsing man inside. She frowned sharply, demanding, "What are you doing? Who let you bring him in here?"

The attendant pleaded desperately, "Princess Mira, my master’s having an epileptic seizure! Someone’s gone to get the doctor, but it’s freezing outside—if he stays out there, he’ll get worse. We just wanted to bring him in to warm up, at least to shelter from the wind!"

"An epileptic fit? Will he die?" Princess Mira jumped back several steps, waving her attendants away as if dodging the plague. "Hurry, get him out! If he’s going to die, let him do it somewhere else—not in my Suxin Pavilion! Bad luck!"

"Yes, Princess!" the attendants answered sharply, immediately blocking the entrance.

The merchants in the crowd erupted, outraged. "He’s freezing to death and you want to throw him out? Have a heart!"

Princess Mira snapped, "I don’t care! If he dies in Suxin Pavilion, this place loses its value! Throw him out to die!"

The attendants—really more like guards—were strong and relentless. The merchants didn’t stand a chance; they were quickly shoved outside, and the sick man was tossed to the ground with a heavy thud, like a sack of wood.

The sick man’s attendant was dragged out too, wailing as he scrambled to his master’s side. He rolled the man over, his own face suddenly draining of color before he screamed in terror.

The crowd rushed over. The stick had been knocked from the sick man’s mouth when his face hit the ground, and now blood was pouring from his mouth as his convulsions grew even worse.

"Master, master, what’s happening to you?" The attendant cried helplessly, pushing at the man. He looked up and shouted to the crowd, "They threw my master out—the stick in his mouth got knocked loose, and now he’s bitten through his tongue!"

"The doctor’s here!" someone shouted. The crowd parted, and a white-bearded doctor hurried in, first checking the patient’s pulse, then his face darkened as he pried open the man’s jaw to inspect the injury.

Suddenly, the man’s body jerked violently. His eyes bulged, he spat out more blood, staining his clothes, then his head lolled to the side and he collapsed, motionless.

The doctor reached out with a trembling hand to check for breath, then sucked in a cold breath. "He’s dead... He’s gone."