Not noticing Han Yan’s expression, Zhuo Qi continued: “There’s no one surnamed Qiao in the Tang Clan, but… the previous Fort Master’s daughter was called Xiao Qiao by everyone.”

“Xiao Qiao?” Han Yan was startled, remembering the character ‘Qiao’ signed on that handkerchief. The previous Fort Master’s daughter called Xiao Qiao… what connection did this have with her mother? After thinking, she asked, “Did you meet this Xiao Qiao?”

Zhuo Qi shook his head: “That Xiao Qiao died from illness over a decade ago.”

Han Yan was shocked. Dead? Her mind became chaotic. Death meant this lead was cut off – how could this be? Would she never discover the truth? This Xiao Qiao must have known something; that handkerchief had been kept by A Bi for so many years for a reason. And A Bi had been her mother’s maid… what was the connection between all this?

Zhuo Qi watched Han Yan and said, “However, I discovered something interesting.”

Han Yan suddenly looked up: “What is it?”

“People in the Tang Fort refuse to discuss this Xiao Qiao. It took a lot of effort to learn anything. According to the oldest servants there, this Xiao Qiao looked identical to the Eastern Marquis’s wife.”

“The Eastern Marquis?” Han Yan was stunned. How did the Eastern Marquis become involved? Wait – wasn’t the Eastern Marquis the man her mother had loved in her youth? Han Yan vaguely felt she had grasped a thread of the truth, but the feeling was too nebulous to articulate clearly.

Zhuo Qi stared at Han Yan with interest: “You know that’s not what I mean.” He seemed to have discovered something intriguing and was trying to guide Han Yan toward his line of thinking.

Han Yan came to her senses: “Identical?” She caught on quickly.

“They were probably the same person,” Zhuo Qi said.

When Zhuo Qi voiced the suspicion in her heart so directly, Han Yan was momentarily stunned. She didn’t know why, but suddenly had an intuition that the so-called identical appearance was just a cover – perhaps they were indeed the same person.

Often, intuition can be clearer than abundant evidence and clues. Especially for someone who had died once before, she had absolute sensitivity in such matters.

Zhuo Qi smiled slightly: “What do you think?”

Han Yan looked at him. Zhuo Qi’s jade-colored eyes carried an indescribable excitement and thrill, like a predator’s tension upon discovering prey. Han Yan inexplicably sensed danger and smiled: “That’s uncertain. These martial arts folk are full of oddities – what’s so strange about looking identical? Perhaps someone made a mistake. It’s best to have evidence for such claims.”

Zhuo Qi unhurriedly took a sip of tea and said: “You already believe what I said, otherwise you wouldn’t refute me this way.”

Han Yan was momentarily speechless. He spoke the truth – precisely because she believed Zhuo Qi’s words, she became nervous when he voiced his suspicions. Zhuo Qi’s interest in this matter exceeded Han Yan’s expectations. Even if there was something to discover, Han Yan didn’t want Zhuo Qi fully involved. For her, the fewer people who knew about this, the better. While Zhuo Qi being from Western Rong meant she needn’t worry about martial arts world connections, this matter involved the Eastern Marquis, which meant royal family connections. This created a subtle conflict with Zhuo Qi’s identity.

Zhuo Qi caught every nuance of Han Yan’s expression and suddenly said: “You needn’t be so nervous. I’ll continue investigating this matter, but only for your sake.” Seeing Han Yan about to refuse, he added: “I know you want to uncover the truth, and no one else can help you. Trust me.”

Han Yan couldn’t say anything. Could she say, “I don’t trust you, stop investigating, let’s just drop it”? Everything has its limits. Zhuo Qi currently bore her no ill will; even this hint of kindness was within those bounds, based on his feeling that she had treated him well. But if Han Yan refused today, it would exceed Zhuo Qi’s tolerance – even a wolf willing to bow and scrape might bite at any time.

She nodded: “Alright.”

Zhuo Qi looked at Han Yan: “Well then, I’ll take my leave.” He put down his teacup and rose to leave.

“Wait.” Han Yan stood up.

Zhuo Qi turned back: “What is it?”

Han Yan glanced outside at the pouring rain and rumbling thunder. It looked frightening – going out in such weather would be dangerous; others would avoid it if they could. After consideration, she looked at Zhuo Qi: “It’s raining outside.”

Zhuo Qi nodded: “And?”

“Don’t leave, stay here,” she said.

Zhuo Qi was stunned, seemingly not expecting Han Yan to suddenly say this. He looked at her incredulously, pointing at himself: “Stay?”

Han Yan turned her face away: “Unless you want to get struck by lightning?” Then muttered under her breath: “After doing so many bad things, not looking like a good person, lightning won’t spare you.”

Zhuo Qi didn’t hear her muttering, but felt joy and emotion, along with complex feelings stirring in his heart. He hadn’t expected Han Yan to ask him to stay. Through their several interactions, he’d found her like a slippery little snake, impossible to grasp, escaping through your fingers at the slightest inattention. In dealing with people, she rarely opened her heart; only her two maids seemed to have her unconditional trust. Sometimes Zhuo Qi even envied Ji Lan and Shu Hong. He couldn’t understand Han Yan’s feelings toward them. But once Han Yan trusted someone, she treated them with genuine sincerity.

Zhuo Qi hadn’t hoped to gain Han Yan’s trust in their brief encounters – this girl was too impenetrable. If he had behaved this way toward other ordinary young women, they might have offered to marry him countless times. Yet Han Yan not only hadn’t considered this but guarded against him like a thief. For someone so reluctant to trust others to actively ask him to stay, with concern in her words – how could Zhuo Qi not be excited?

“If I stay in the same room with you, it would mean offering myself in marriage. In Da Zong terms, I would have compromised your reputation,” he said seriously.

Han Yan nearly choked, looking at Zhuo Qi as if she didn’t know him: “Has your brain been damaged by fever? How could I possibly share a room with you? Go to Han Ming’s quarters – he has an empty room. Shu Hong, take him there.”