“You’re saying… you were the only survivor the night Lu Ming died?”
He Mo leisurely stroked her waist. Just as he had imagined—slender, as if a mere touch would cause her to collapse into a soft bundle. Yet, her temperament…
Leng Yiyao sat stiffly on his lap, her expression as if she had just seen a ghost.
She had never heard that this man had any particular taste for women, let alone such an indiscriminate appetite.
Yet, here he was—acting like an expert at seduction?
How long had they even known each other?
Her body was only sixteen, still in the midst of adolescence, yet he had no hesitation whatsoever?
When she turned and saw Fu Lei’s thunderstruck expression—his face practically charred to a crisp from shock—she suddenly felt much more at ease.
He Mo raised an eyebrow, and just then, the stiffness in her body suddenly melted away, as if everything he had just felt had been nothing but an illusion.
She turned slightly to the side, her delicate face illuminated under the warm light, making her features appear even more refined. But her eyes—layered like mist and clouds—concealed a depth impossible to gauge.
“Unless someone could return from the dead, I’m the only one who knows what really happened that night.”
She smiled—bright and teasing—her gaze filled with undeniable meaning. After all, she was the one who had actually returned from the dead. But how many people in this world would believe such supernatural nonsense? When she left that night, she had made absolutely sure to count the bodies. Twenty-nine underage boys and girls, plus Lu Ming and his personal guards. Not one more. Not one less.
Fu Lei, who had just moments ago been frozen at the doorway—shocked beyond belief that his marshal was suddenly showing interest in a woman—felt even more disturbed now.
The way this woman spoke…
It didn’t sound like she was just some lucky survivor.
It sounded more like—
His brows furrowed, just as he was about to speak. But then, He Mo glanced at him.
That gaze—cold and indifferent—was neither a warning nor a threat. It was the casual, dismissive glance one gives to an irrelevant bystander.
Fu Lei shuddered, immediately lowering his head. Without another word, he turned, shut the door, and left the room entirely to the two of them.
“Tell me—what really happened that night?” The weight on his lap was so light it was almost imperceptible.
His voice remained steady and calm, as though he hadn’t picked up on the deeper meaning behind her words at all.
Leng Yiyao tilted her head back and grinned.
The military and royal family were known to have distant relations, only coming into contact during major state ceremonies.
The Marshal had never even spared a glance at the two royal heirs before.
Did he really care about the truth behind Lu Ming’s death?
“All I know is— the prince outside that door played no small role in Lu Ming’s demise.”
She lowered her gaze, casually shifting all blame onto Lu Chen.
Because, let’s be honest—if it weren’t for him insisting on sacrificing 81 boys and girls in some twisted ritual, she wouldn’t have been able to reincarnate, and Lu Ming wouldn’t have died at her hands, either.
He Mo was now certain.
He had just encountered a fox so clever it was practically demonic.
She never lied outright—
But she never told the whole truth, either.
She could have chosen not to mention at all that she was there the night Lu Ming died. Yet, she did.
She brought it up herself, but intentionally left the truth obscured.
Most people would do anything to distance themselves from suspicion. But instead—she let Lu Chen walk straight into the fire and exposed herself.
Was she naïve? Clueless?
No.
She knew exactly how the empire worked. Which was exactly why she had thrown herself straight into his arms.
Interesting…
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