The Favored Heiress
Chapter 542: He Has No More Reservations

Chapter 542: Chapter 542: He Has No More Reservations

Bo Tingxiao took several drags of his cigarette, fell silent for a moment, and then spoke again, "Xiao Qi, Huizai’s death..."

Before he could finish, Li Qiao closed her eyes and laughed, "Brother Xiao, he... isn’t dead."

"What did you say?" His suddenly raised tone was enough to show the extent of his shock.

Countless thoughts sprang up in Bo Tingxiao’s mind but still seemed inconceivable to him.

How could Xiao Yehui, who was believed to have perished in the explosion, still be alive?

Li Qiao explained concisely, and as she looked back at the night sky, she heard Bo Tingxiao’s voice, heavy with disbelief, "He’s the current Duke Charlman?"

The two were silent over the phone line for a long time.

It wasn’t until Bo Tingxiao forced himself to accept the fact that he spoke with an obscure tone, "Xiao Qi, do you suspect that the Military Department’s network map was tampered with, directed by the British behind the scenes?"

"It’s not an impossibility." Li Qiao used her injured right hand to pick up the can of beer, tilted her head back for a sip, and the cold liquid going down her throat made her thoughts clearer, "Brother Xiao, if the previous Duke Charlman’s status could have helped the Myanmar Military to change the system network, then you... remember to be careful."

The status of Duke Charlman could almost sit on an equal footing with the members of the Royal Family.

If, under the guise of friendly international relations, the Myanmar Military were asked to modify a map for a no-man’s-land in the network system to create a false impression of Xiao Yehui’s death, it would certainly be plausible.

As it stands, given the Charlman Family’s status and influence in the West, asking Myanmar’s supreme commander to modify an inconsequential network section would be a breeze.

She believed Xiao Yehui had his reasons, but she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t harm someone close to her again.

"Mhm, I understand, I will thoroughly investigate this matter."

Bo Tingxiao responded in a low tone, and since Li Qiao had given him a clue, following this lead might indeed reveal the truth of the past.

...

After ending the call, Li Qiao threw her phone to the windowsill, swayed the beer in her hand, her eyes dark without a sliver of color.

When she finished the can and turned around to grab another, the bedroom door suddenly opened.

Shang Yu, with a robe draped over his shoulders and slightly tousled hair, stepped out.

His steps were hurried, and even with the dim light in the living room, Li Qiao could easily make out the nervousness in his eyes through the moonlight.

Nervousness was a word that seldom fit him.

Li Qiao looked surprised, "Why are you..."

Before she could finish, the man walked toward her with large strides, the hem of the robe on his shoulders fluttering dramatically at his sides.

Without a word, he walked up and wrapped his arms around Li Qiao’s waist, pulling her into his embrace, his rapidly beating heart gradually steadying.

The anxiousness hidden deep within Shang Yu, who had abruptly woken from sleep, was stirred again when he felt the coolness at his side of the bed.

Especially in the dead of night, his inner fears magnified—fears of losing Li Qiao.

He held the person in his arms tightly, his Adam’s apple moving as he said, "Why aren’t you sleeping so late at night?"

Li Qiao, smothered against his chest, moved her shoulders twice, tilted her head back to look at his pursed lips and said, "Can’t sleep, slept too much during the day."

After a pause, recalling the conversation she had just had, she raised her right hand to wrap it around his back, and with a smile, hooked her lips, "Were you just about to go out to look for me?"

Shang Yu looked down to meet her eyes and didn’t say a word, as if conceding to her guess.

Li Qiao raised her eyebrows slightly, a faint curve appearing at the corners of her lips, "I just couldn’t sleep and thought of something, so I took the opportunity to make a call to Brother Xiao."

While she spoke, a burst of the smell of alcohol wafted out.

The man’s pupils, which had tightened, gradually returned to normal. Holding her, he drew her in closer, and after his emotions relaxed, his brow furrowed, "Drinking while you’re injured?"

Li Qiao struggled out of his embrace and, hooking his elbow with her left hand, walked over to the sofa and sat down, "My biological clock has been a bit erratic lately, drinking to help sleep."

She had been running back and forth between the domestic front and British Imperial, and her jet lag had never really adjusted.

Shang Yu leaned against the sofa, his gaze deeply fixed on her as she opened two more cans of beer, his palm gently caressed the back of her head, "When are you planning to return to the country?"

Li Qiao handed him a can and leaned back into his arms, "I’ll listen to you."

The man’s lips curved subtly, "Not going to continue exchanging with the Medical Alliance?"

Li Qiao turned her head, her eyes sparkling with a smile, "We can exchange online in the future, you arrange the time, I’ll go back with you."

If she continued to stay in British Imperial, it was likely that Shang Yu would stay just to accompany her.

This was Xiao Yehui’s territory, and since they were already at odds, she couldn’t allow anyone close to her to fall into danger any longer.

She wasn’t afraid, but she was worried he would use her to target Shang Yu.

Li Qiao was very clear — she and Shang Yu were each other’s weaknesses, but they also wanted to be each other’s armor.

...

The next day, Li Qiao followed the man onto the private jet back home.

Feng Yi saw them off at the airport and didn’t withdraw his gaze until the plane reached ten thousand meters in the sky, sighing softly.

Standing half a meter behind him was his confidant; his phone rang twice, and upon checking it, he stepped forward in surprise, handing it to Feng Yi, "Second Master, look at this."

Feng Yi glanced over disinterestedly, but when he saw the newspaper headline and content, he stopped in his tracks.

The headline was so shocking it took up the entire front page of the electronic edition of the newspaper.

The current Duke Charlman has joined the House of Lords effective today. The image was of Duke Charlman’s first appearance wearing a wine-red velvet jacket and donning a crown that marked his status.

Feng Yi snatched his confidant’s phone and examined it repeatedly; his exquisite Eurasian face also took on a trace of solemnity.

Duke Charlman’s joining the House of Lords meant... from now on, he would expose himself to the public.

Xiao Yehui, without any concerns anymore.

...

At nine o’clock in the evening South Sea time, Li Qiao stumbled off the plane, still groggy as she followed Shang Yu into the car, her expression somewhat hazy.

She lazily deactivated airplane mode on her phone, which started to buzz incessantly as the signal restored.

Multiple text messages, WeChat notifications, and missed calls kept flashing on the screen.

Most of them were from people like Su Moshi and Xia Siyu.

Li Qiao opened WeChat and went straight to the top chat.

It was Xia Siyu’s.

There were about a dozen WeChat messages inside, including a photo that was a repost from the global news at home.

It was the photo of British Imperial Duke Charlman’s first real-life media appearance.

The extravagant and noble red velvet royal outfit, accompanied by a crown, made him look every inch the noble duke, even with his Asian-descent features.

Li Qiao briefly glanced at the messages sent by Xia Siyu, which were filled mostly with countless question marks dominating the screen.

She exited the chat and looked at the unread messages from Su Lao Si and Shen Lao San, mostly similar in content.

Li Qiao turned her head to look out the window, her heart filled with both irony and complexity.