The iron door was opened, revealing complete darkness inside. He wasn’t afraid of Miss Dong’s schemes against him, because on the ship, he could die a hundred times. However, this dark room was likely underground, and even if he was wild, he should be cautious entering such a dark place.

He had just seen a corpse; could there be beasts inside, or perhaps more corpses, remnants of an archive? Miss Dong wouldn’t kill him, but if she closed the iron door behind them, he would be under house arrest, which wouldn’t be much fun. He thought for a moment, wanting Miss Dong to go in first while he followed behind, so he slowed his pace.

Without hesitation, Miss Dong stepped inside and said to him, “Close the door.” Zhang Haiyan thought to himself, fine, that works. Miss Dong’s actions always seemed to be ahead of his own cautious thoughts; she seemed to understand him very well, effortlessly resolving his various schemes.

The room was warm, and he could hear the sound of flowing water around him, which was very pleasant. There was an echo in the space, almost ethereal, as if a girl were breathing. Zhang Haiyan entered and closed the door, deliberately leaving it slightly ajar in case he needed to escape later. Then, he noticed stone steps leading downward. After a few steps, he found warm water—hot springs.

Miss Dong walked ahead, and with the sound of water, she must have waded in. Soon, she lit a candlestick deep inside, and the space brightened up. The candle was a large one, casting bright light in the small stone room, where warm spring water flowed in from the walls, forming a pool. In the center of the pool was a stone table, its corners adorned with sulfur formations resembling stalactites. Clearly, they had been there for a long time.

The table was covered with many tools wrapped in burlap. Aside from that, there was nothing else in the room. “Where’s the evidence?” Zhang Haiyan asked. “Isn’t this just a bathhouse?”

Miss Dong’s nightgown was soaked, the hot spring water soaking into the fabric, creating steam. Zhang Haiyan watched as Miss Dong approached the table and began to fiddle with the tools. At the same time, as the steam rose, the parts of her body that were exposed began to reveal tattoo patterns.

As the steam rose from below, the tattoos blossomed like flowers starting from Miss Dong’s arms and moving upwards. Her tattoos were colorful, and this scene left Zhang Haiyan mesmerized.

Soon, he realized that it wasn’t a flower; it was a qilin. Because her nightgown clung closely to her body, Miss Dong’s figure became apparent, and their eyes met.

“This is the evidence you mentioned. You are a Zhang family member,” Zhang Haiyan said. “I don’t believe it; you don’t look like you’ve lived that long. Besides, isn’t your surname Dong?”

“The Zhang family uses false names. If someone is over a hundred years old, they tend to use Dong as their surname. My pseudonym is Dong Zhuohua,” Miss Dong replied. “You never seem curious about why, even though I’m a person from the Nanyang Archive and the daughter of the ship king.”

“I guess the ship king doesn’t know that his daughter is no longer his daughter. That face of yours probably isn’t how you truly look,” Zhang Haiyan said, feeling something was off. Miss Dong’s face was barely over twenty, yet the way she spoke on the ship and here gave the impression of someone much older.

Moreover, Miss Dong is incredibly patient, talking too much and mocking herself without offering any support. Not only did she not kill herself on the boat, but she also patiently deceived herself, as if there were no logic to it. Additionally, that calmness in her eyes cannot be faked.

But if she is wearing a mask, it would explain things better. This figure should belong to a woman in her thirties; if her character has been somewhat tumultuous, such calmness is also possible. Deceiving oneself must have some ulterior motive; it would be better to just say it outright. Zhang Haiyan is like a stray dog now; what girl would dare to face herself in such a manner? Shouldn’t she listen carefully? Is she really going to wander aimlessly and become a beggar?

So, Zhang Haiyan said, “Sister Zhang kept me alive on the boat. If there’s anything you need me to do, just say it directly. There’s no need to force me to believe this story. I just need to know that the existence of the Nanyang Archives has some significance, so that Zhang Hai Xia didn’t die in vain. Now that he’s gone, it’s fate that cannot be resisted. I’m just afraid that after all we’ve done, it’s just a daydream, and there isn’t even one person left who remembers.”

Miss Dong opened the rag on the table, revealing some pen-like objects, and said, “Zhang Hai Lou, how many times have I told you? When doing things, you should conceal your motives more. Zhang Hai Xia knows this much better than you do.”

Zhang Haiyan was taken aback. Miss Dong continued, “I thought that if Zhang Hai Xia went to Malacca with you, the two of you could have a good ending. Before you left, I told you that only those who remember my words have a way out. You keep saying you miss me, yet you haven’t even followed my words. The thirty-year term isn’t up, and you’ve already broken your promise and returned. The Bodhisattva fears causes, and a common man fears consequences; in the end, you chose to be a common man.”

She tidied her hair and began to peel off her face starting from her chin, revealing a human skin mask that came off her face.

Zhang Haiyan instinctively retreated, only to see an incredibly young face appear before him. After a moment of shock, he said, “Mother?”

The young woman looked at him, her eyes calm, devoid of any flowing thoughts.

“The cause you’ve sown has already been planted. Now you have no last chance to leave this matter, so you should honestly accept your fate.” Zhang Haiqi tossed her face aside, and Zhang Haiyan looked at her in amazement. This woman, his mentor, his adoptive mother, his superior, looked exactly as she did when he left all those years ago, her skin as youthful as a girl’s.

It was his adoptive mother, Zhang Haiqi.

A warmth surged in his heart, followed by panic and then a daze, causing his mind to freeze. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly felt dizzy, and Zhang Haiqi’s figure before him became blurred. He saw Zhang Haiqi open a jar on the table, which seemed to contain paint, and he stumbled, struggling to maintain his balance.

“Mother, that’s great, you’re not dead—what’s wrong with me? I—I couldn’t protect Hai Xia—what’s wrong with me?”

No matter how strong a man is, when he sees the woman who raised him, he will immediately revert to the boy he once was. In that moment, countless grievances, loneliness, pain, and the bitterness of licking his own wounds rushed into Zhang Haiyan’s heart, only to rush out again. But he couldn’t say a word, unsure if it was due to excitement, the water being too hot here, or because he felt that the Zhang Haiqi in front of him was somewhat unfamiliar, different from his childhood memories.

“In this hot spring, there has been added a drug; an ordinary person cannot hold on for long.” Zhang Haiyan suddenly knelt down in the hot spring, and Zhang Haiqi came up behind him, starting to tattoo his body. “From today on, you will be fed with blood; when the blood heats up, it will flow out, allowing you to stand in the wilderness, with nothing being denied.” Zhang Haiyan, in a daze, lost consciousness.