The drive back from the temple was silent, tension thick in the air as Feng Ruoxi sat beside Xiao Zheng, her thoughts a chaotic mess. The parchment in her hands felt heavier than it should, as if it carried the weight of all the secrets she was yet to uncover.
Her name—no, the name she was meant to have—was written in her mother's own handwriting.
But it wasn't Feng Ruoxi.
It was something else.
Something she had never seen before, yet something that felt strangely familiar.
Xiao Zheng glanced at her from the driver's seat. "You've been staring at that paper for the past twenty minutes. If it's going to answer all your questions, you should probably let me see it."
Ruoxi tightened her grip on the parchment, then sighed and passed it over. Xiao Zheng scanned it, his brows furrowing. "This name… it's not Feng Ruoxi."
Ruoxi exhaled. "No. It's not."
