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墨書 Inktalez
He took two steps forward, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Song Feiwan's face, unlike the typical avoidance of others.
The outline of her features was strikingly similar to someone he once knew. But hadn’t she died? Surely this couldn’t be a mere figment of his imagination.
Song Feiwan sensed his uncertainty. Taking a slight breath to steady herself, she maintained a calm expression and lowered her voice, asking, "Are you here for treatment or to buy medicine?"
Rong Jiayi stared at her in a daze before instinctively replying, "For treatment."
Avoiding his intense gaze, Song Feiwan invited him inside.
As she took his pulse, Rong Jiayi continued to scrutinize her. It wasn’t just her facial features; her physique, neck, and hands were all remarkably similar. But what about her subordinate? Chen Azao? From Zhuzhou?
Song Feiwan lowered her eyes, feeling a deep sense of dread within. She was certain that Rong Jiayi had begun to suspect something.
What should she do? Just as she had settled in Wujin City, was she going to have to move again? The key question was whether Rong Jiayi would allow her to leave.
The pulse indicated that he was in good health. Song Feiwan released his wrist.
Rong Jiayi was startled, thinking she was about to leave, and instinctively grasped her hand.
"Wait?" Song Feiwan exclaimed in surprise.
Only then did Rong Jiayi realize his rudeness; annoyance flickered in his eyes as he let go of her.
"I’ve been having trouble sleeping these past two months. Please prescribe me something to calm my mind," he said.
Feigning ignorance of his implication, Song Feiwan replied, "I can prepare the medicine directly for you."
"I need you to write the prescription," Rong Jiayi insisted, his gaze locked onto hers. "I am not from Jiangnan; I need the prescription for Beijing."
Song Feiwan's hands, resting on her lap, nervously twisted together. She focused intently on the space in front of her, not wanting to show any signs of hesitation about picking up the brush.
Her current disguise was nearly transparent; her handwriting would completely betray her.
Rong Jiayi’s eyes remained fixed on her, silently challenging her resolve.
Finally, he spoke in a hushed voice: "Feiwan."
It was the first time he had ever addressed her like that. Song Feiwan's long eyelashes fluttered slightly as she bit her pristine lower lip.
How unpredictable fate can be.
She sighed in resignation.
This reaction, which was tantamount to an admission, filled Rong Jiayi with overwhelming joy.
As he gazed at the woman who haunted his dreams, the excitement of having her back surged within him.
He had so many questions to ask, like what had happened during the fall from the cliff?
Why had she come to such a small place as Wujin City, hiding her identity?
Did she know that the capital had been turned upside down because of her?
But in the end, he only asked one thing: "Does your face hurt?"
Song Feiwan finally lifted her gaze, looking at him in surprise.
She no longer lowered her voice to say, "It doesn’t hurt."
But she didn’t tell him it was a lie.
Not giving Rong Jiayi a chance to probe further, she continued, "Are you going to take me to the capital and hand me over to Xiao Yu?"
Rong Jiayi's heart sank sharply, a harsh buzzing ringing in his ears.
He keenly sensed Song Feiwan's resistance. Was she still holding onto the misunderstanding about Xiao Yu because of Sang Zhen?
No, Wujin City wasn’t some remote backwater; with a little inquiry, one could easily find out that Xiao Yu had not remarried.
What on earth had happened between her and Xiao Yu that made her go so far as to fake her own death to escape?
But none of that truly mattered to him.
What he cared about was whether there was still a chance for him if there was no possibility between her and Xiao Yu.
The twists and turns of his thoughts sent his emotions plummeting and then soaring again; his heart raced, and his scalp tingled.
Rong Jiayi stared at her, afraid to miss even the slightest change in her expression.
"It depends on you," he said gravely and earnestly.
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