At the entrance to the Duke’s Manor, the lanterns had also been dampened. Zhao Ke stopped the carriage. Tong’er opened an oiled paper umbrella and helped Jiang Li down from the carriage as they walked together into the Duke’s Manor.

The brilliantly colorful Duke’s Manor—the flowers in the garden beds, having received the gentle drizzle, became even more delicate and enchanting. It seemed as if the layer of white frost from winter had also been washed away urgently, revealing their originally vivid appearance. Walking through it felt like being beyond the mortal world.

In the birdcage at the entrance, Xiao Hong was standing on a branch with eyes half-closed, head tucked into her feathers, sleeping soundly. Precisely because of this, she didn’t see Jiang Li and start squawking noisily as she usually did.

Wen Ji stood guard outside Ji Heng’s study. Seeing Zhao Ke bring Jiang Li, he said to her, “The master is in the study.”

Jiang Li nodded. Bai Xue and Tong’er remained outside while Jiang Li pushed open the door and entered.

The windows in the study were closed and lamps were lit. Outside was the pattering sound of rain; inside was flickering lamplight. Jiang Li closed the door behind her, and thus even that last trace of cool breeze disappeared completely from the room.

Ji Heng sat at the desk, sitting lazily. His red robes reached the floor, revealing a corner embroidered with intricate patterns that looked like flowing jewels under the lamplight. His eyes were more captivating than gemstones—his long eyes slightly narrowed with rippling enchantment.

After Jiang Li entered the room, his gaze glanced toward her and he froze slightly.

Today’s Jiang Li, her dress and appearance were very different from usual. Normally she was a plain and ethereal young girl, but now she appeared to have added bright and vivid colors—unfamiliar attire, unfamiliar makeup, transformed into an unfamiliar woman.

No longer like the snow-white pear blossoms that first bloom in March, carrying a faint sweetness, but rather like the peach colors hidden in deep mountains in April, a scene of enchanting charm.

Yet the clarity and stubbornness in those eyes seemed never to have changed from beginning to end.

He stood up, raising an eyebrow: “You’re dressed very differently today.”

Jiang Li smiled: “Is that so?”

She had deliberately dressed this way. Going to see Princess Yongning to settle this grudge, she couldn’t use the identity of Second Miss Jiang—she had to become Xue Fangfei. The mistakes made back then were committed by Xue Fangfei, so naturally it should be Xue Fangfei who came to rectify those errors and end it all. She conversed with Princess Yongning using Xue Fangfei’s soul. As for Princess Yongning’s shock, fear, and nightmare-like torment after she left—that had nothing to do with Jiang Li.

“The Duke sent Zhao Ke to summon me here. Is there some matter?” Jiang Li inquired.

Ji Heng summoning her so late—perhaps it was to fulfill that agreement. But Jiang Li vaguely felt that Ji Heng wasn’t someone so impatient. At least he would wait until after Princess Yongning and Shen Yurun’s execution before actively bringing up this matter.

Ji Heng walked before her. He was very tall, and the shadow his figure cast covered Jiang Li. Judging from the silhouette reflected on the window, it seemed like an intimate posture between two people.

He asked, “You just came from the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon. You went to see Princess Yongning?”

Jiang Li said, “Yes.” Since Zhao Ke was waiting outside for her, he must have known about this matter early on and came specially to wait for her. Therefore, Ji Heng knowing about this didn’t surprise Jiang Li.

Ji Heng nodded. His hands had distinct joints, slender and pale, playing with the folding fan in his hand. He lowered his head to look at Jiang Li, his gaze rippling and captivating, the corners of his lips carrying a bewitching light smile, yet his voice was utterly clear.

He asked, “Why did she call you ‘Xue Fangfei’?”

Jiang Li shuddered and abruptly raised her head. He had heard it all!

Did Ji Heng’s people lurk in the dungeon and hear the conversation between Princess Yongning and herself?

The girl’s eyes widened slightly. Her eyes were too clear, such that the momentary panic and helplessness within them had nowhere to hide. The young man was as beautiful as a demon from theatrical tales, even his manner carrying heart-bewitching elegance. He gently pressed the fan against her chin, forcing her to lift her head and directly face those amber eyes that could see through people’s hearts.

He looked at Jiang Li, smiling, sighing lowly—his tone intoxicatingly chilling.

Ji Heng said, “You really aren’t Jiang Li after all.”

You really aren’t Jiang Li.

As the final note of this sentence disappeared into the air, he pressed forward step by step while Jiang Li slowly retreated, until her back touched the desk behind her with nowhere left to escape. Her body involuntarily leaned backward, but was supported at the waist by Ji Heng’s extended hand, preventing her from falling.

He had known all along. Even though during this time he had been indulgent toward her, helpful, and even considerate enough to be called friendly concern, his suspicions about her in his heart had never ceased for a moment. Others thought he was immersed in the act. Perhaps he truly was immersed for that moment, but he could withdraw at any time, calm, sharp, and shrewd.

Perhaps from beginning to end, he had never trusted anyone, nor given anyone his trust.

Just like his ambiguous and intimate posture at this moment, his lips smiling and gentle, yet his gaze was so cold and detached.

Jiang Li closed her eyes. She heard her own calm and gentle voice ring out in the room: “The Duke once made an agreement with me. Now that matter is complete, you may fulfill the agreement. This life—it’s time to return it to the Duke.”

She didn’t answer Ji Heng’s question, but instead urged him to fulfill the agreement. At this moment, it sounded like provocation, the undisguised kind at that.

Ji Heng’s eyes darkened. The smile at the corners of his mouth became even more bewitching. The fan handle in his hand moved gently from Jiang Li’s chin to rest upon her throat.

She was delicate and fragile, even her throat was slender, like a white crane being grasped by the neck—there was an instant of tragic, beautiful fragility. Yet she was also fearless. Her expression was peaceful, without a trace of panic to be found. Her heart was set on death.

Ji Heng wasn’t someone who liked to ask “why.” For many matters, he had already figured out the answers at the very beginning. He didn’t like unexpected incidents beyond his control to occur. If something couldn’t be clarified in the end, he wouldn’t persist but would abandon that matter.

The so-called principle: if you can’t find the answer to resolve something, then resolve the thing itself.

So the hand gripping the fan handle—that pale, slender hand that should have been picking up chess pieces and tea cups, elegant and refined—slowly tightened.

Jiang Li felt the coldness at her neck, as if she could smell the scent of death. The scent of death was probably like the fragrance on Ji Heng’s body, carrying a cool, astringent fragrance.

Ji Heng’s gaze fell beneath the fan handle, upon the fan tassel hanging down.

The tassel was crimson as blood, the butterfly with wings spread as if about to fly. The red butterfly against white skin had an inexplicable harmony. As Ji Heng watched, his eyes moved slightly.

Immediately after, Jiang Li felt the ice-cold fan handle still pressed against her throat, but by her ear suddenly rang out a low, hoarse voice: “I don’t want your life anymore.”

A ticklish sensation came to her ear, breath close and audible. In her surprise, Jiang Li hastily opened her eyes to see his slightly turned face.

This man’s profile was also without a single flaw. Every time she looked at it, she found it breathtakingly beautiful. After finishing his words, he didn’t pull away from Jiang Li but still smiled, looking down at her from his height. With just a tiny bit more, probably just a fraction, Jiang Li’s mouth could touch his face, perhaps his lips.

She was greatly alarmed and didn’t dare move. Yet this appearance was like a deer in deep mountains startled by a hunter, standing shocked in place, bewildered and tense—all her previous cleverness had vanished.

“As an exchange,” he said with interest, “tell me the truth. Don’t lie. How about it, hmm?”

He stared intently at Jiang Li. Jiang Li could barely withstand it. Under such a gaze, even the most iron-hearted person couldn’t help but be moved. Clearly knowing he exuded danger from head to toe, yet still being entranced by his momentary tenderness, like a moth to flame, throwing herself headlong into ashes without hesitation.

“I…”

“I’ll take that as your agreement.” He smiled and withdrew the fan handle, conveniently reaching out to tuck a strand of hair hanging before Jiang Li’s eyes behind her ear.

Jiang Li felt extremely uncomfortable all over, her cheeks burning. She could only focus intently on a gold button on Ji Heng’s robe—the button’s edges all carved with intricate patterns, gorgeous and cold.

“I can tell the Duke everything he wants to know, but I fear the Duke won’t believe what I say and will instead think I’m lying.” Jiang Li raised her eyes to look at him.

He once again used that serious, almost naive, gentle gaze, as if he would believe everything she said without hesitation. With such affectionate eyes, he said slowly, “I won’t. Everything you say, I believe you.”

Jiang Li froze slightly.

His gaze was so earnest, the distance so close. She could see his long eyelashes and the small red mole at the corner of his eye. She even felt an impulse to reach out and touch it. However, she quickly suppressed it. She didn’t know if this moment’s heart flutter was because Ji Heng was too beautiful, too gentle in his performance, causing her momentary confusion. But she understood that once she left this room, the deer in her heart would stop leaping and she would become rational and calm again.

“If you believe me, then I’ll tell you.” She tried hard to make her tone sound indifferent.

Ji Heng looked at her for a while, then slowly released his hand. Jiang Li could finally breathe a sigh of relief and stand up straight. Ji Heng pointed with his fan at the desk, where there was a pot of tea and two tea cups. He said, “Sit.”

He had returned to that previous casual composure again.

He always withdrew extremely quickly.

Jiang Li steadied herself, lowered her head, and walked to the table to sit down. Perhaps due to some nervousness, this time without waiting for Ji Heng to act, she first poured herself a cup of tea. She lifted the tea cup and took a sip.

In the rainy night, the hot tea quickly soothed her panicked, uncomfortable, agitated, and hesitant feelings since entering the room, allowing her to become calm again.

Ji Heng smiled watching her and sat down opposite her. Jiang Li stared at his bright red robe, her eyes nearly dazzled by the golden threads on it.

He asked, “What is your name?”

Jiang Li: “Xue Fangfei.”