"Oh, Qin Ming..." Bai Ye nodded absently, then suddenly froze, his eyes widening slightly.
"Who!?"
Fu Yao repeated herself. "Qin Mingshen. Do you know him, Mr. Bai?"
Bai Ye stood rooted to the spot. Qin Mingshen!!?
Could it be someone with the same name? My dear nephew has been fucking dead for sixty years.
Hearing his dear nephew's name again after sixty years left him dazed. What year was it, anyway?
"I have a nephew named Qin Mingshen too. Is he two meters tall, and does he usually like wearing flashy purple outfits??" Bai Ye asked urgently.
Fu Yao paused, then shook her head gently. "He isn't that tall, and he doesn't wear purple."
At her denial, Bai Ye's expression turned inscrutable. Height could change-Qin Mingshen was a whole group of people, after all-but surely his taste couldn't have changed too?
He distinctly remembered that Qin Mingshen, the king of show-offs during the transcendent turmoil, had always favored purple, whether male or female.
"Mr. Bai, the branch leader probably just shares your nephew's name. His physical features don't match, and he's also quite a bit older than you. He's in his thirties."
"The same name?" Bai Ye considered it, then declared firmly, "I don't believe it."
Fu Yao was stunned. Wait, they don't even look alike. Why won't he believe it?
Mortals couldn't understand a god's thought process. After all, Painter had set this god up repeatedly; he had long since stopped believing in coincidences.
Bai Ye added, "Tell me everything you know about him in detail."
Sometimes, asking one more question was crucial. As it happened, this god liked getting to the bottom of things.
Fu Yao didn't understand why, but she told him anyway. "He's a born king, like a lofty, solitary mountain, standing tall and never following