To have her handiwork appreciated—truly appreciated—was the highest praise Bai Qingqing could hope for. Her smile deepened, soft but unmistakably genuine. “If you like it, that’s all that matters. I made it myself. Once you’ve used it up, I’ll gladly make more.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly—”
Ning Zhao raised his hands in instinctive refusal, but her smile didn’t waver.
“In truth,” Qingqing said with a disarming tilt of her head, “I hoped to ask you something. My sister mentioned you were investigating the nursery rhyme that’s been spreading through Xuancheng. Have you uncovered anything?”
She straightened slightly, her tone quieter but resolute. “Forgive my bluntness, but the rhyme mentions the Bai family. What happened during my mother’s birthday celebration… I imagine you know more than I do. It’s been weighing heavily on me. If you could share just a little, perhaps my family could be better prepared.”
Ning Zhao knew the matter intimately—he’d personally seen to the aftermath. The item slipped into the Bai household had come from his own hand, delivered to Bai Jinghuai.
“It’s not that I won’t tell you,” he said at last. “What I could say, I’ve already conveyed to the Duke of England. As for the rhyme… we haven’t yet found its source. But I promise you this—if I uncover anything new, your family will know right away.”
Qingqing bowed deeply, sincerity woven into every line of her posture. “Thank you, my lord.”
He took a step back, flustered. “There’s no need to thank me, truly. It’s not such a great matter. I’ll do everything I can to get to the bottom of it.”
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After leaving the Embroidered Guards’ bureau, Bai Qingqing made her way to Qingxin Hall, still marveling aloud, “Lord Ning really is… a good man.”
So unlike Ning Yan. There was a kind of earnestness to him you could feel without effort. No wonder her elder brother had sought him out.
According to Fu Yi, the slander against the Bai family began with that cursed rhyme. And not long after, someone reported Bai Jinghuai for treason. The timeline was too neat to ignore. She couldn’t help but wonder—was the so-called evidence of treachery the very thing smuggled into the Bai household that day?
Her teeth grazed the tip of her finger, unconscious. That man had failed once, but if someone had gone to such lengths in her previous life to see the Bai family annihilated, they wouldn’t stop now. If not this time, then the next.
“Miss, there’s trouble in the hall.”
Qingqing didn’t even lift her head, propping her chin on her palm. “The steward can handle it.”
“It’s someone you know. The second young lady from the Marquis of Guangyang’s household.”
Her head snapped up. “Mo Kexin?”
She rose at once and made her way forward.
Inside Qingxin Hall, voices clashed. A girl’s words laced with mockery rang out clear as a bell.
“If I were you, I’d lock myself in my room and cry for a month. The crown prince of the Ping royal household would rather marry a courtesan than tie himself to the Mo family. Even I pity you.”
Mo Kexin’s expression was ice. “And what business is that of yours? Mind your tongue before it twists itself off.”
“Oh, I’m trembling,” the girl laughed, turning to the small crowd with theatrical flair. “Mo Kexin, have you ever wondered why no one likes you? Always so proud, so superior—eyes perched atop your skull. Now look at you. It’s pathetic.”
Mo Kexin’s name carried weight in Xuancheng. She wasn’t one for veiled words or polite half-truths—she spoke plainly, cut sharply, and never played the courtly games other girls mastered so well. Naturally, she’d made her share of enemies.
Now that trouble had struck the Mo family—scandal and whispers swirling around their broken betrothal—half the city seemed to be watching, waiting for her to break.
But Mo Kexin didn’t break.
She walked, talked, and lived as she always had, utterly indifferent to the pointed laughter.
“You seem awfully invested in the affairs of the Ping royal family,” she said now, tilting her head, her voice calm, cold. “Are you hoping to marry into it yourself?”
“Oh—but I forgot. It’s not about what you want, is it? It’s whether they’d even consider you in the first place.”