The auction hall infirmary had a narrow window, two examination cots, and a cupboard of clean basins. The physician directed the porters to place the attacker on the far cot. Guard Zhu stood at the door while Qinghe took charge of the treatment.
The man’s lips had gone pale. He trembled once, then swallowed with difficulty. Qinghe checked his pulse again and asked the physician to watch his breathing. The antidote had steadied him, but the poison left him weak and nauseated.
“Do you know what was in the capsule?” she asked Zhu.
“Not yet. The wax fragment is sealed.”
“Keep it sealed until the physician can examine it.”
Zhu nodded. “I need to know who sent him.”
“Then keep him alive to answer.”
The guard turned to Yan. “You were cut by a needle?”
