Such a miracle was not only at this time, but not only here, but also at the time when Giulio suffered more. Where the Medici were favored, those who could afford it immediately left for Rome, and those who could not afford lit candles in nearby churches to pray for the benevolent archbishop, and as time went on, more and more people gathered in St. Peter's Basilica, and when dawn came, the white tears of the candles piled up on the steps, and even flowed into the square, and the candles on the steps were so dense that they could burn to the skirt or cloak if you were not careful.

And those who didn't know why, but just came to make a pilgrimage, saw them do this, and thought that some new ritual had been added, and they also bought candles to burn on the steps. Pius III sent his monks out to explain to them. These people did not regret it, and they said that this is what we should do for the virtuous people, and the monks changed to maintain order, and called them willing to serve Julio. The Medici prayed to make way to St. Peter's Basilica, for there were many more masses to be celebrated here. The monks walked up and down among the candles, chanting the scriptures softly, and at the same time they were vigilant for the fire that the candle might cause, or if the candle was extinguished, they would light it in time.

At the same time, the Medici, Picomini, as well as Baglioni, Esther, Sforza...... Orsini and Colonna, willing and unwilling, sent many servants to drive away thieves and robbers for these pious men, and to prepare shelter and food for them.

The last drop of Pius III's potion had dropped, and Giulio was no longer feverish or convulsive, but his eyes were still closed, and he did not react to the ardent cries and painful cries of those who loved him, his breath was so weak that he could not lift even a tiny feather, and his skin was ominously blue-white, cold and hard to the touch like the white porcelain fired by the outcasts of Faenza under his direction.

Pius III sat numbly on the chair in front of the bed, holding his head without any manner, the doctors and the monks were driven out by him, the curtains in front of the window hung low, the sunlight could not shine into the room, the noise was cut off by the heavy glass and tapestries, this was like a mausoleum—the thought of this, the Holy Father sat up uncontrollably, something in his hand reached the palm of his hand, he looked down and opened it, it was the antidote that Brother John had taken for him from the reliquary, He pinched the dark brown glass bottle and looked at the faint glimmer of light, where there was still about a drop of potion in it—the last drop, and the fatal one.

An astronomical clock hanging in the Vatican Palace makes a loud noise, this clock has two clock faces, the top goes around once a day, the bottom goes around once a year, the upper clock face rings twelve times every 12 o'clock at noon, and the bronze statues of the twelve disciples of Jesus appear in the miniature colonnade between the two sets of clock faces according to each ring, which is quite a masterpiece worthy of amazement - it is said that the cost of manual work alone is as high as 1,000 gold ducats.

Its timing is unusually accurate, which is why Pius III left it behind - after all, there are so many embellishments around it, too elaborate, too cumbersome, too inconsistent with Picomini's aesthetic.

But at this point, Pius III could only think: this is the eighteenth hour! It's been three hours since he dropped the sixth potion, if he decides to drop the last drop......

He hurried to Giulio's bedside, and reached out to caress the young face, the heir on whom he had high hopes, his most beloved disciple, who was like a son, and who had not even had time to say a word to him, leaving a look of affection, or a slight touch that was about to die...... Pius III gasped for breath, and the potion in his hand was destined to either keep him alive or send him to heaven - but why not take a gamble? Even if he didn't do anything, Giulio wouldn't have been able to break free from death.

————————

Brother John quietly pushed the door open, knowing that Pius III had driven everyone out, but the last sacrament was not always left to the Holy Father alone, and he brought communion and oil, and at the same time could serve as a witness to prove that Giulio. The Medici confessed on his deathbed, but as soon as he stepped into the room, he saw the Holy Father uncorked the bottle and intended to drop the last drop of potion into Julio's mouth.

"God!" Frightened, he rushed forward, and the sacrament and the oil fell to the ground, but he couldn't care less, and only grabbed Pius III's hand.

"Let go of me!" Pius III shouted angrily!

"You've dropped six drops of the potion!" Brother John struggled to hold the Father and keep him from coming near Julio: "The seventh drop will make him die!" ”

"He's going to die now!"

"But I can't let you kill him!" Brother John cried out, "If you must do this, then let me come, let me come!" ”

"I'm not killing him," said Pius III, gasping, "he is spiritual, God and the saints are watching him, and he will live!" John, he's spiritual! He opened his eyes wide and looked at the Zenith, or rather, the Kingdom of God above the Zenith: "He is able to be saved...... He is spiritual, spiritual ......" Brother John held him, and felt only that the Father's skin was burning hot, and that solemn and rigid face, which seemed to have never changed, was occupied by a strange crimson, and he seemed to have lost hearing of others, but only muttered to himself, which was terrifying.

Brother John gritted his teeth and did not let go at all: "Francis! He shouted the common name of Pius III, "Francis! He cried out in grief: "Look, look at yourself, tell me, Francis, do you really love Giulio because he is spiritual!?" If he is not spiritual, will you no longer love him!? Francis, tell me, is that so?! ”

The name that had not been heard in the mouth of anyone else for a long time echoed in Pius III's mind, pulling back some of what had been left of his senses, and he looked at Brother John with trembling lips, tears streaming down his eyes - perhaps at first, he loved Julio because he was spiritual and had come to redeem him, but ...... So many years...... He was Giulio's only father, and Giulio was his only son.

They have long been one and cannot be divided.

Pius III smiled, he reached out and patted Brother John's back gently: "No," he said, "I love him whether he is spiritual or not." He took the monk by the shoulder, "So let me come." He said, "If he has to live, we have to live, and if he doesn't," Pius III paused, "then ......"

Brother John looked into Pius III's eyes with a look of grief on his face, but he let go of his hand anyway, and he stood there and watched as Pius III uncorked the bottle and poured the last drop of the potion into Julio's lips.

The next three hours were so hard that Brother John felt that his breathing became hard, and when there was still about a quarter of an hour left before the ninth hour, the cardinals could not help but push out another disciple of Pius III, Joshua. Lovere came knocking on the door – the Vigil Mass was about to begin, the Holy Father had to preside over the whole ceremony, the previous Good Friday Mass had been interrupted by the assassination, and the Vigil Mass could no longer be blank – otherwise one would wonder if Pius III had already suffered a misfortune.

And just as Pius III stood up, the aura that surrounded him was so fierce that Brother John trembled, "Look at Julio again." The monk tried to say that he could not believe how mad Picromini would have been if he had not been able to perform the last sacraments with his own hands for his children.

Pius III paused for a moment, he had the illusion that if he just walked out like this, after Mass, his children would continue to wait for him in this room, but he also knew that it was no longer possible.

He walked over to the bed and saw a pair of bright golden eyes.

Giulio coughed lightly twice, a little confused, for Pius III looked a little ...... in a rare way Murderous?

"What is it," he asked, smiling, "...... Let you ...... like this Sad, teacher? ”