Thousands of miles away in Australia, deep into the night, stars twinkling one by one, the night's dampness slowly spreading in the air.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough."
The sounds of harsh coughing came intermittently.
"Mrs., it's bad, the young master is vomiting blood again," a scream filled with panic resounded.
In the splendid corridor, a woman in a white orchid nightgown stumbled into a room, where she was met with a large pool of fresh blood.
The boy was weakly coughing, his face as pale as a daffodil, yet devoid of moisture.
The woman's legs gave way, her face full of terror: "Xiaohan."
"Mrs." The maid behind her immediately lent a hand.
"Go get Professor Han immediately."
The woman pushed the maid behind her and quickly walked up to the boy. She took a towel and wiped the blood from the corners of his mouth: "Xiaohan, does it hurt?"
"Mom, it hurts a lot," Xiaohan opened his mouth, his tone full of crying.
