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The middle-aged maid nodded. “As long as you’re fine, Miss. Lately things have been unsettled beyond the Pass, and I’ve been worried something might happen to you.”
She walked over to the window, closing the wooden shutters that had been blown open by the wind, making sure they were fastened. Then she lit a lamp and suddenly froze.
“Ms. Zhang, what’s wrong? Why are you just standing there?”
Dressed in a light gauze robe, Han Zhilan looked at the maid who had stopped moving, unable to help asking.
The middle-aged maid slowly turned around. The flickering yellow candlelight danced over her face, now bright, now dim.
Han Zhilan’s pupils shrank sharply, and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. It was unmistakably the face of that disheveled-haired woman with blood-tears streaming from her eyes.
She instinctively took a step back, feeling...
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