Wei Chen clenched his fists. "Every hundred years, countless people die because of Zhu's schemes. I just don't understand why Zhu would leave clues about himself in Nie Gong's Treasure Vault, let alone mention all his plans."
Zheng Xiu noticed Feng Bei's palm growing sweaty. She tightened her grip on his hand, her fingers trembling slightly. Zheng Xiu instantly understood that Feng Bei was remembering what had happened two hundred years ago, and even more, the people who had died then. He began to trace lines in her palm more quickly, with a certain rhythm.
At first, Feng Bei didn't understand, thinking he was just scratching aimlessly and was about to roll her eyes. Soon, however, the rhythm of Zheng Xiu's tracing changed—nine light strokes and one deep, then five light and three deep. The meaning hit Feng Bei in an instant. Her entire body jolted, a mix of shame, annoyance, and longing flooding through her. She forcefully pulled her hand away, stopping Zheng Xiu's mischief.
