Chapter 147 I’ll Marry You

Chapter 147: I Will Marry You

A Heng realized that Xue Han was already suspicious of her, and a new question arose: given his position as Imperial City Commissioner, why hadn’t he acted on his suspicions?

Had he secretly set people to watch her, or was he being lenient to the point of letting her be?

Regardless, the fact that he’d still owe the Prime Minister’s mansion a favor on her behalf, even under suspicion, showed how well Xue Han treated her.

Thinking back to the autumn hunt, when she’d used a dream as an excuse to reveal part of the truth, and they’d teamed up to save the Crown Prince, for a second, A Heng wanted to spill everything.

But she didn’t dare take the risk.

Saving the Crown Prince was one thing; taking down the Treacherous Chancellor was another.

After so many dealings, she could vouch for Xue Han’s character. More importantly, the fact that Xue Han had braved a sea of fire to save the Crown Prince was written in the history books, so she had no qualms tipping him off about the Crown Prince’s danger.

However, Chancellor Fang was deeply tied to Xue Quan through mutual interests, and Xue Han’s rise from a starving little beggar to a young, successful Imperial City Commissioner in purple robes was all thanks to Xue Quan’s upbringing.

Only Xue Han knew how heavy that debt of gratitude weighed on him. In the end, as the adopted son of Xue Quan, one of the Five Traitors, he was naturally on the opposite side from her.

She was walking on eggshells on this tough road to save Great Xia, unable to trust anyone easily.

Not even him.

“Hidden reasons—” A Heng gave a bitter smile. “If you want to talk about hidden reasons, it might be that the longer I stay at Earl Yongqing’s mansion, the more I see my grandfather’s obsession with profit. If not the Prime Minister’s mansion, it’d be some other house. After all that struggle, what’s the difference?”

Xue Han didn’t want her to know he suspected her, and she felt the same—she didn’t want him to know she knew.

“And that Third Master Fang is frail and sickly; he might kick the bucket any day. By then, whether as wife or concubine, you just live behind closed doors on your own terms. When I think about it, it’s pretty carefree—no more worrying about my grandfather selling me off to some guy for profit—”

Xue Han couldn’t stand hearing it and blurted out, “I will marry you.”

A Heng’s eyes widened, completely stunned.

The words were out, and there was no taking them back. Xue Han looked at A Heng and said firmly, making it clear he wasn’t joking: “I, Xue Han, am willing to take Qiu Heng as my wife.”

A Heng’s cheeks slowly flushed.

What was Xue Han talking nonsense about? One minute he suspects she’s a spy, the next he says he wants to marry her.

But why was her heart pounding so hard?

A bitter feeling filled her chest, and a voice whispered: The nation’s survival is at stake; how can you have time to think about other things?

But looking at the young man so close, A Heng couldn’t bring herself to turn him down.

Instead, Xue Han changed his tone: “But you’ll need to wait.”

Saying this to A Heng today was impulsive of him. He still couldn’t break free from his foster father’s grip and give her a stable, worry-free life.

But he didn’t regret this unplanned impulse.

He was afraid she might degrade herself again for some goal, and he might not be so lucky to stop her in time.

Letting her know he was willing to marry her—even if she later wanted something, weighing his status as Imperial City Commissioner and adopted son of the Hidden Prime Minister, wouldn’t marrying him be a better deal?

Then A Heng would be by his side, and he’d watch over her, keeping her from harming Great Xia.

If A Heng really was a spy and got exposed, death would be the only way out. That was the price he’d pay for not controlling his heart.

Hearing Xue Han’s words, A Heng inexplicably felt relieved.

She was too greedy—unwilling to say no, yet unable to say yes.

“Sixth Miss Qiu.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I call you A Heng?”

A Heng lowered her eyes slightly. “Official Xue can call me whatever he likes.”

“Then from now on, don’t call me Official Xue. Call me Xue Han.”

“Xue Han.” A Heng softly uttered the name. “It’s a coincidence—we both have foster fathers. My foster parents treated me wonderfully. Before the Earl Yongqing’s mansion sent people to find me, I never imagined I was adopted. Back then, I grew up in the countryside, free and happy… What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, how was it after you were adopted by Eunuch Xue?”

“My foster father—” Countless scenes flashed through Xue Han’s mind.

The lashes from martial arts training, the ruler strikes during study, the reprimands for failing tasks… Yet despite all that, being adopted had transformed him, giving him who he was today.

It was his foster father who gave him the chance to see the vast world.

“I’m different from you. I’m an adopted son, and my foster father was more stern than loving… I was originally a beggar, and I owe everything to my foster father.”

“That’s a heavy debt of gratitude—” A Heng’s tone was drawn out, carrying a sigh.

Just as she thought, Xue Quan held an extraordinary weight in Xue Han’s heart.

“Xue Han, I need to go back.”

A Heng didn’t ask why Xue Han wanted to marry her.

Since he had said it himself, it couldn’t be purely out of guilt—there must be some affection, more or less.

For her at this moment, seeking an answer was meaningless, only adding to her troubles.

“I’ll see you off.”

“No need, it’s not far.”

Xue Han called out to the young woman about to turn away: “A Heng, stay away from the Prime Minister’s mansion from now on.”

“That might not be possible.” A Heng’s expression was calm. “The Prime Minister’s Madam quite enjoys the pastries made by Fang Zhou, and she’ll likely invite me over again. Refusing would offend her, so I’ll have to wait until she tires of them.”

“Then be careful.” Xue Han offered a word of caution, watching as A Heng walked away.

What was A Heng’s purpose in getting close to the Prime Minister’s mansion?

Xue Han reached into his money pouch and touched a copper coin, recalling A Heng’s words from that day: It doesn’t skip as far as a stone chip.

The young man bent down, picked up a stone chip, and flung it toward the lake.

The stone chip bounced farther and farther until it finally sank into the water.

A Heng walked through the bustling streets, her mind still lingering by Green Lotus Lake.

Xue Han should be heading back by now, right? Or is he still there, worrying about making ripples?

Qiu Heng curved the corner of her mouth slightly.

Knowing that he was also troubled, because his meddling had derailed her plans, somehow made her feel much better.

A candied hawthorn seller hawked his wares as he passed by. Qiu Heng paused mid-step and called out to him, "Hey, buddy, one stick of candied hawthorns."

While paying, Qiu Heng shot a sideways glance at the street corner, then took a gentle bite of the hawthorn.

The bright red fruit, coated in a sugary glaze, was both sour and sweet. Qiu Heng let out a sigh of resignation, as if to say, "I knew it."

Being lenient to the point of letting things slide—that was me reading too much into it. It was more like Xue Han to have her tailed without a word.

He wanted to marry her—was it to keep her close and under surveillance?

Qiu Heng took another bite of the candied hawthorn, not at all bothered by finding the spy.

How could she be mad when catching a spy had gotten her tangled up in it?

As soon as she returned to the Marquis's mansion, Qiu Heng was summoned by the old lady.

"How did it go?" The old lady stared intently at her granddaughter.

"Oh, I thanked him. Lord Xue said not to worry about it."

Not to worry about it?

The old lady furrowed her brow. "Then did he say when he'd come to the manor to propose?"

Qiu Heng paused, then shook her head honestly. "No."

The old lady was puzzled.

Xue Han had told her himself that he was sincere toward A Heng, and he had decisively resolved A Heng's troubles, yet he hadn't mentioned a word about when he would propose.

What's wrong with young people these days?