The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 496: In order to win, Russia can cooperate with the devil! (Please subscribe, please vote)

"What did you say? March, March 1st? Today is March 1st?" Tsar Nicholas suddenly felt an itch in his throat, and then he burst into an uncontrollable cough like a mortar. Scarlet sputum splashed on the defense map of the Crimean Peninsula on the table, dyeing the Sevastopol Fortress the color of the Crimean frozen soil.

Admiral Orlov, sweat rolling down the furrows of his face, saw the Tsar gulp down a mouthful of cocaine liquor to barely suppress his violent coughing fits.

"Your Majesty, you, what are you doing?" The cavalry admiral looked at the Tsar, his blue eyes filled with fear.

The Tsar swallowed another mouthful of bloody phlegm, his face flushed even more. He waved his hands and said calmly, "It's just a cough. It's been two or three days. At first it was just a sore throat, then it developed into a mild cough. Now it's a bit serious. Maybe I caught a cold. It shouldn't be serious."

Is it really okay? The cavalry general immediately came to a negative answer in his heart: No! The Tsar never gets sick! Never! His body is like steel, and he can work energetically for more than ten hours every day, as if he is tireless. But now, Tsar Nicholas, who never gets sick, is sick. No, this must be the curse taking effect!
"Your Majesty, you are ill!" The cavalry admiral did not dare to say the word "curse" for fear of irritating the Tsar. "You need a doctor. Please let me summon the doctor and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince for you. If you need to rest for a few days, he can command the war on the Crimean front for you. He is a wise and intelligent Crown Prince, and you can trust him completely."

After Admiral Orlov said this, Tsar Nicholas also felt that he might really be sick, or he might be cursed by the devil. He needed to be careful!
He touched his forehead again and it seemed a little hot and dizzy. It might be a fever. Thinking of the "devil's curse", he was a little scared: "Okay, go call Alexander, Archbishop Tikhonov and the chief physician of the Winter Palace!"

"Yes! Your Majesty!"

Admiral Orlov felt a little relieved when he heard that the Tsar was going to invite Archbishop Tikhonov of Petersburg to the Winter Palace. This was a respected Orthodox clergyman who had preached in the Far East and the American continent and was very knowledgeable about Eastern religious beliefs. He should be able to deal with the curse from the East, right?

In the evening, the military boots of the Russian Tsarevich Alexander, who had hurriedly arrived, made a rapid sound on the marble floor of the Malachite Hall. The sable cloak of his cousin, Grand Duchess Natalia, who arrived with him, passed by the gilded wall lamps on both sides of the corridor, casting an uneasy shadow on the wall. When Alexander learned of his father's illness, he was holding a ball in his mansion to see off the young noble officers who were about to return to the Crimean front. The beautiful Grand Duchess, as the most popular princess at the Petersburg ball, was also a guest at the Tsarevich's palace, so they came to the Winter Palace together.

When they pushed open the oak door of the Tsar's bedroom, which was carved with a double-headed eagle, a number of well-dressed dignitaries had already gathered inside.

Tsar Nicholas lay in the golden bed curtains, eyes closed, forehead covered with a cooling wet towel, Archbishop Tikhonov stood beside him, holding the Bible and reading the Orthodox exorcism scripture: "In the name of the Father and the Son"

"Your Highness." Chief Medical Officer Pavlov walked towards Alexander, his face full of anxiety, "His Majesty the Tsar suddenly had a high fever this afternoon. It might be pneumonia caused by a cold!"

"Pneumonia?" Alexander's eyes stopped at the aging Bishop Tikhonov. "What is the Archbishop doing?"

"He's there." The chief medical officer lowered his voice. "The archbishop is performing an exorcism on His Majesty the Tsar!"

"What?" Crown Prince Alexander was shocked when he heard this. "Exorcism? Why does pneumonia need exorcism?"

"Because Your Majesty may have been cursed, so he got pneumonia!" Cavalry General Orlov saluted to the Crown Prince, then handed him a copy of the telegram sent from Rome with both hands.

Crown Prince Alexander took the telegram with a puzzled look on his face. After taking a few glances, his expression changed drastically: "This is a vicious curse!"

"Yes!" Cavalry General Orlov nodded heavily, "This is the curse. It is a magical attack from China!"

"Magical attack?" Natalia, who arrived at the Winter Palace with Alexander, also showed a look of surprise on her fair and delicate face. "Didn't they say that Luo Yaoguo can only predict the future and not perform magical attacks?"

The cavalry general said in a tone that sounded like a death announcement: "He predicted that His Majesty the Tsar would die in March."

"March?" Crown Prince Alexander was surprised. "Today is already February 3th."

"That's the Russian calendar," the cavalry general shook his head, "he was talking about the Gregorian calendar. Today is March 3st."

"Oh God!" Alexander crossed himself.

"It's so terrible!" Natalia's face turned as white as paper. She said March. March 3st is no good! This is really a devil! Archbishop Tikhonov's exorcism scripture seemed to have some effect. Tsar Nicholas opened his bloodshot eyes and coughed a few times: "Alexander. Come here quickly!"

Crown Prince Alexander quickly stopped talking with Orlov and Pavlov, walked quickly to the Tsar's bed curtain, and looked at his father who was almost instantly knocked down by the "spell", his face full of panic.

"I'm very cold, let them heat up the fire." The Tsar, who was never afraid of the cold, said in a hoarse voice.

"Yes!" The captain of the palace guards agreed, and then he ordered, "Quick, add some firewood to the fireplace!"

"Father, don't worry too much. It's just a cold," said Crown Prince Alexander. "You will be fine after a good rest."

"No, no," Tsar Nicholas shook his head and said weakly, "I wanted to hand over an empire where everything was running well to you, but I messed it up. I didn't take good care of Russia! This country is now plagued by problems and has lost its former glory. It is surrounded by enemies. The navy is trapped in the naval ports of the Black Sea and the Baltic Sea. The army cannot repel the invading French and British. All our European allies have betrayed us! And Asia... The devils in Asia are attacking us in an unknown way, and we have no means of defense. Sasha, all this is up to you, please take good care of Russia!"

This is almost a will!
Crown Prince Alexander didn't know how to comfort his father, so he looked up at Archbishop Tikhonov and Chief Medical Officer Pavlov. Both of them shook their heads helplessly.

The curse or disease suffered by the Tsar was so severe that they had no way to deal with it - in fact, it was a high fever caused by acute pneumonia. If there was an expired amoxicillindane pill, Tsar Nicholas would jump up and work the night shift tonight.

But there is no such medicine in St. Petersburg, nor in the whole of Europe!
Therefore, the only thing that could overcome pneumonia was the Tsar's own physique. However, more than a year of war and long-term alcoholism had already worn down his body, so the high fever was so severe.

The only thing doctors can do in this era is to reduce the patient's temperature physically, so as to prevent the patient's body temperature from being too high and being "burned" to death. Then they can only leave everything to God.
"Sasha," the Tsar's hoarse voice sounded again, "Come here, come closer."

Alexander quickly approached, leaned over, and almost put his ear close to the Tsar's lips: "Sasha. There are no eternal enemies or eternal devils in the world, only eternal interests. If the devil can save Russia, then we should cooperate with the devil without hesitation. Russia has never hated the devil, and Russia hates losers!"

"For Russia, at all costs. Russia must win."

As Tsar Nicholas spoke intermittently, beads of sweat the size of soybeans appeared on Alexander's forehead. In the dark, an invisible but enormous pressure was rushing towards him!
July 3, London, England.

The March sun smeared the windows of Buckingham Palace like melted butter, and the shadows of wisteria flowers spun lavender spider webs on the Persian carpets through the stained glass. Queen Victoria's gossamer skirt swept across the parquet floor, and the lilies of the valley embroidered on the skirt trembled with her steps.

The still charming Queen pushed open the door of her husband Prince Albert's office and saw a middle-aged man with a balding head, leaning over his desk, looking at a copy of a telegram with a sad face.

"Dear Albert, what is the important matter that has called me here in such a hurry?" asked Queen Victoria.

The queen has never been a diligent monarch. She is lazy, does not like to study, and does not care about her country and people. The only two things she is interested in are going to bed with her husband, doing happy things, and having children. She is already the mother of eight children, and there will be a ninth in the future.

As for national affairs, well, the British monarch of this era is not completely "empty", and still has a lot of real power, but that is all the business of the husband, Prince Albert. He has to manage the country during the day and serve the queen at night. He is the most hardworking man in the whole country, so he ages very quickly. He is obviously younger than the queen, but he looks more than ten years older.

Today, the British king finds himself taking care of not only the mortals but also the gods. It's really a bit too much for him to handle!
"Something bad has happened!" Prince Albert sighed and smiled bitterly, "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent an urgent telegram from Berlin saying that the Tsar is dead! It is very likely that someone, someone cursed him to death!"

"Curse to death?" The queen was stunned. "Albert, are you too tired? Are you hallucinating? How could such a ridiculous thing happen in the world?"

Prince Albert shook his head, picked up a telegram copy from his desk and handed it to the Queen: "Victoria, take a look at this telegram first. It was sent by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on March 3st."

(End of this chapter)