The study in the Admiral's Mansion, Zhao Shouchang, wearing a scholar's robe, was engrossed in reading by lamplight, so deeply focused that he didn't respond when the steward approached quietly and reported, "Master, the young lady has returned."
He didn't react, as if he hadn't heard, his attention still on the book.
The old steward stood in place, waiting.
After a while, Zhao Shouchang finally finished reading the page, put the book down on the desk, and asked, "Where did she go today?"
His daughter had always been sensible and seldom returned home so late. If she really had to be late, she would at least inform the steward in advance.
Today, however, there was no notice at all.
Very unusual.
The steward replied, "The young lady was with Chen Ming all this time."
"Chen Ming?"
Upon hearing this name, Zhao Shouchang's gaze sharpened, "Is he the young man who slew the treacherous Patrol Envoy?"
"Yes, Master."
It was him?
Zhao Shouchang's eyebrows subtly furrowed.
