Fengguang finished reading the letter and felt as if she had fallen into an ice cellar. A chill spread through her body. She wanted to tell herself this wasn’t real, but that would only be lying to herself. Deep down, she knew the letter was indeed written by her. After all, in the ancient world, aside from Liuli—the one who had crossed over—no one used simplified characters. And her handwriting was something no one could possibly imitate.
What’s more, the letter mentioned Xiaoxiao… Just the thought of that name left her hollow inside. Fengguang slowly raised a hand to her chest, her whole being unsettled.
The letter claimed that Suva had hidden Xiaoxiao away. Why would he hide her? And why had he never told her that Xiaoxiao even existed? Could it be… Xiaoxiao wasn’t actually his daughter? Or was he planning to use Xiaoxiao against her—perhaps to force her into willingly offering up her own heart?
And what about the wound on her neck?
The thought struck her suddenly. She turned toward the bronze mirror and began unwrapping the bandages circling her throat, layer after layer, until her bare, fair skin was exposed to the air. There was no scar. Not a single mark.
She clearly remembered Suva telling her the wound would take several more days to heal, and that she mustn’t remove the bandages before then, or it would delay the recovery. After reading the letter, she had suspected that her neck wound wasn’t from the so-called rebel demon general at all, but something she had inflicted upon herself. The idea had come abruptly, yet it felt horribly plausible… If it had been in front of Suva—if it had been because of him—she might well have been driven to the despair of ending her own life.
But there was no wound. None at all.
And yet everyone believed she had been injured during the campaign against the rebel general. Even her own mother had shown concern, asking after her condition. So why wasn’t there a scar? Could it be… Suva was simply too powerful, and had healed her completely?
And what about the disappearance of the System? That wasn’t part of any normal storyline. Just what exactly was Suva’s true identity?
She couldn’t figure it out. And the more she thought about it, the more afraid she became. His tenderness, which once might have stirred her, now only terrified her. She didn’t dare feel even the slightest flicker of affection.
Fengguang didn’t know how many times she had read this letter, but she did know one thing for certain—Suva could never find out it existed.
With firm resolve, she placed the letter back in the box, locked it again, then hid the box up on the beam. She tucked the key beneath the table, and finally wound the bandages back around her neck. She couldn’t be sure whether she would lose her memory again, but she knew one thing: if there were ever a banquet at the Celestial Palace—say, her mother’s birthday celebration—she would certainly return there.
Her bedchamber was one place Suva seldom visited. That was why she chose to hide it there; he would never notice. Perhaps years from now… even centuries from now… if she returned, she might rediscover that key by chance. But that possibility was one she prayed never to experience again.
“Fengguang.”
Suva stepped in from outside, carrying a bowl in his hands. His expression was as gentle as ever as he walked to her side. “I made lean pork congee. It’s your favorite.”
“Thank you.”
Fengguang managed a smile as she accepted the bowl, her expression no different from usual. Stirring the porridge lightly with her spoon, she suddenly asked, almost as if on a whim,
“Suva, do you like children?”
Lucien On ABRWF Chapter 34.1