Zheng Qing had long been prepared for the witch's doubts.
"I suspect someone is cursing me."
Like Jiang Yu, he straightened up slightly, his eyes darting from side to side. Lowering his voice, he put on a cautious, uneasy expression. "There's no direct evidence for now... but under normal circumstances, Fatty Xin's spell absolutely couldn't have hurt me!"
Jiang Yu's expression immediately turned serious.
"A curse?"
Her delicate brows knit slightly. At some point, she had produced a silver-white whistle and was slowly turning it between her fingers. "No direct evidence means you have indirect evidence?"
Zheng Qing guiltily touched his earlobe.
"It's not especially reliable intelligence." He tried to show a hint of hesitation as he explained softly, "I got word from Qingqiu Mansion that there's a Secret Society at school targeting me. Of course, the possibility that it's someone outside the school can't be ruled out... Anyway, you must have noticed that strange things have been happening around me lately, right? Like last week in Potion Class, when the cauldron on the lab table in front of me suddenly exploded; the Gargoyle below our dorm suddenly went out of control; and that rabid squirrel we ran into during class, among other things. Including this accident during practical class, I think they were all the Secret Society's doing."
He spoke quickly and at length, mixing truth with falsehood.
The truth was that there really was a Secret Society at school targeting him, and those endless accidents were beyond doubt. The falsehood was that he had not gotten this information from Qingqiu Mansion.
He himself was the one who had assembled that Secret Society.
Half-truths were the most convincing. Zheng Qing believed Jiang Yu would not—and could not—go to Qingqiu Mansion to verify his claims. At the same time, the