By the time Hong Ning returned to the abandoned residence, dawn had yet to break. However, the courtyard was far livelier than before—Zhao Xing and the others stood guard at the entrance, hands resting on the hilts of their swords.
Upon seeing her, their expressions were filled with uncertainty and suspicion, yet none dared step forward to speak.
Yang Zhen’s door remained tightly shut, though the faint glow of a lamp could be seen from within.
Hong Ning had already guessed as much. A man of his status—powerful, authoritative, and prideful—would naturally value his dignity above all else. After nearly being taken advantage of by that peach demon, he must be seething with humiliation.
Then again, her own mood was hardly any better at the moment, and she had no interest in wasting energy on someone else’s affairs. She was about to head back to her room for some much-needed rest when the transmission talisman suddenly stirred with movement.
Hong Ning sighed in exasperation. No peace tonight, then.
Resigned, she turned and walked toward the light.
Pushing open the door, she found the room steeped in silence.
The furnishings remained undisturbed—bed, curtains, table, and chairs all as they had been. The only difference was the sword that had previously hung on the wall was now placed on the table, within easy reach.
Yang Zhen stood beside the table with his hands clasped behind his back, facing away from the door.
Seeing this suspicious woman approach their master, Zhao Xing and the other guards immediately tensed and surrounded her warily.
“Young Master, she…”
Yang Zhen cut them off. “Stand down.”
The guards hesitated but ultimately obeyed.
Hong Ning shut the door behind her at a leisurely pace. “Does Young Master Yang still have business with me?”
Yang Zhen turned to face her, his sharp gaze unwavering. “Who was that demon?”
Hong Ning feigned ignorance. “Didn’t you already make his acquaintance? Why ask me?”
Yang Zhen stepped forward slowly, his eyes studying her. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “He introduced himself as Bi Qin. As for his background, I know nothing.”
Hong Ning was momentarily surprised before shaking her head with a soft laugh.
“Bi Qin… A place to ‘escape from Qin’?”
Without waiting for his response, she smiled. “Seeking Tao Yuan [Peach Blossom Spring] to escape from Qin… Quite the fitting name.”
The poem she referenced was something she had memorized before she arrived in this world. Yang Zhen, having never heard of it, naturally didn’t understand.
“What is Taoyuan?” he asked.
Hong Ning tilted her head. “Would you say his beauty surpasses peach blossoms?”
Her words were casual, but Yang Zhen took them differently. He assumed she was alluding to what had happened earlier, and his expression darkened slightly.
His voice grew colder. “If you wish to stay alive, I suggest you stop withholding information.”
“Or what? You’ll punish me?”
Hong Ning was slightly irritated by his tone. “A thousand-year-old peach demon—feeds on human brains, has an appetite for beauty. I’m telling you the truth. Whether you believe it or not is your decision.”
The events of the night had been utterly bizarre, nearly beyond explanation. Yang Zhen had spent half the night deep in thought, gradually beginning to question his own beliefs.
Hearing her words now, his doubts only deepened.
“So demons and spirits truly exist in this world?”
His reaction was much the same as her own when she had first arrived in this world.
Hong Ning chuckled. “Young Master Yang saw it with his own eyes. Why bother asking me?”
Yang Zhen clasped his hands behind his back and paced a few steps before suddenly turning around to fix her with a cold gaze.
“You can use sorcery too.”
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