An Jing suddenly realized something was wrong. Her youngest son's breathing was much weaker than the other three children. Grasping Xiao Changyi's hand in extreme anxiety, she said, "My lord, our child—he—"
She was truly worried that her son would be like Lady Pan Fan's son, born with a life doomed to be short.
Xiao Changyi immediately comforted her, "There's no danger to his life, so don't worry too much. He's just congenitally deficient and needs to be nourished with medicine."
Having quadruplets with one child born deficient was quite normal. An Jing understood this, but since it was her child, whom she carried for ten months, she understood but somehow couldn't accept it.
Still, she asked, "Can he be cured with medicine?"