Hua Jing lowered the letter slightly and shook her head. "It's from His Highness," she murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.
Xia Lin hesitated before speaking again. "But… do you trust it?"
Hua Jing exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She missed Zhao Yan dearly, but she was not foolish enough to act on emotion alone. There was something wrong here, and if she ignored her instincts, she might very well be walking into a carefully laid trap.
Her gaze shifted toward the doorway, where the messenger had stood just moments ago. Had that truly been one of Zhao Yan's men? Or was it someone else entirely?
Xia Lin's face paled, her brows knitting in deep worry as she watched Hua Jing pace across the room. The golden letter, now folded and clutched in Hua Jing's grip, seemed to weigh more than it should. The air in the chamber was heavy with tension, thick with unspoken fears and uncertainties.
