"..."
The room suddenly fell silent.
It was so quiet that even the sounds of breathing and heartbeats were clear.
The screenwriter's eyes widened, feeling her adrenaline surge and her heart constrict.
Clutching her chest, she stammered, "M-Miss Si, please don't scare me."
"I'm not scaring you," Si Fuqing's fox-like eyes curved into a smile. "I'm serious. If I dream about him, I can relay your questions. I actually have a psychic ability."
"Oh, I see." The screenwriter patted her chest, still feeling uneasy, and handed over the notebook. "These are the questions I have. I couldn't find the answers in any historical records, so I didn't want to make things up."
Si Fuqing glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. "Sister, you're really thorough with your research."
Even questions about whether JIANG Xuanjin had received sachets from girls were listed.
The screenwriter felt a bit embarrassed. "Occupational habit."
