As they ventured further west, the weather turned colder, especially during mornings and evenings, the bone-chilling cold made everyone shiver uncontrollably.
Upon seeing another post station emerge in front of them, the group of people exiled to the northwest could not help but shed tears of relief; all of them were thinly dressed and walking west, it was all too miserable.
"Dad, we've reached the post station." Qin Bohong, carrying his father who had become nothing but skin and bones, let out a slight sigh, glancing back at his equally emaciated son, his eyes brimming with tears.
Qin Yuanshan patted his shoulder, his voice hoarse, "Put me down, son, don't tire yourself out."
"It's okay, Dad, I'm not tired."
Throughout their journey, the first to fall ill was his son, who had never experienced hardship before. Fortunately, a noble benefactor assisted them by inviting a doctor for a diagnosis and even secretly gave them ten taels of broken silver to help with the treatment.
