From the moment Lian Zhi entered his chambers that morning until the moment she left at dusk, he observed her with the patience of a hunter.
He was seeking confirmation, proof of her identity or the lack of it. Every question he had asked during their long meeting was a trap, and it had been deliberate.
What appeared to be idle curiosity was nothing more than a test, a way to measure the person standing before him without revealing his true suspicion.
Throughout the long hours of their discussion, he had allowed the conversation to drift away from the coup itself. Instead, he had guided it toward her habits, her knowledge, the way she thought, and who she actually was, or wasn't.
And she had answered. She spoke naturally, using logic and knowledge that belonged to his old world, not this one.
Behind him now, the foreign letter lay open on the table. Lin Rui did not need to look at it again.
