Bai Jinghuai nodded perfunctorily—men knew men, after all. He’d seen that hollow-eyed look on the day of the wedding.
“I’m just saying, there’s a type of man who’s completely oblivious in certain areas. He’s obviously smitten, yet insists he isn’t. You get what I mean?”
“You’re saying… Lord Ning, toward Qingqing?”
Bai Jinghuai slapped his thigh. “You didn’t see it—Lord Ning was cracking nuts for Qingqing like he’d done it a hundred times. So practiced, so natural. And when he looks at her, his whole expression changes. There’s a light in his eyes. I’ve been around long enough—I know what that look means.”
“But Qingqing’s heart is open and unguarded toward him. That’s what worries me. If someday she meets someone she truly likes, and only then does Ning Yan realize how he feels… what might happen then? He’s no clueless stump like—”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Brother Zhao is not a stump!”
Bai Jinghuai quickly backtracked, placating her with a smile, though he sighed inwardly. The old saying held true—even someone as exceptional as Ning Yan wasn’t perfect. And that, oddly enough, made him feel a bit better.
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Ning Yan told Bai Qingqing she needn’t prepare anything—just go about her days as usual. She could come and go as she pleased, so long as nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
So she went to Qingxin Pavilion as always. Beforehand, she had someone send word to Fu Yi: she wanted to see him.
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Before he arrived, Bai Qingqing sat quietly in a private room, her mind a tangled web of thoughts. The air was laced with the crisp scent of incense, and for a moment, time seemed to hold its breath.
Fu Yi rushed over. Bai Qingqing rarely asked to see him of her own accord, and he feared something had gone wrong.
“Is something the matter?”
He had rushed over so quickly that sweat beaded on his forehead and the tip of his nose, the worry in his eyes unmistakably real.
Bai Qingqing studied him for a moment, then invited him to sit and poured a cup of tea. “Catch your breath first.”
Fu Yi had no mind for tea, but seeing that Bai Qingqing seemed calm enough, he forced himself to take a sip. “What happened?”
“In our past life, you always said that your years of hard study weren’t for fame or fortune, but to bring even a sliver more justice to the world. Do you still remember that?”
“Of course I do. I still believe it, even now.”
A faint smile blossomed on Bai Qingqing’s face. “Do you know how deeply I admired you back then? Even if you didn’t return my feelings, I never felt I loved the wrong person. The man I loved was selfless, noble in ambition—someone I could be proud of.”
For some reason, unease began to stir in Fu Yi’s chest.
“Do you remember how I died? What happened to the Bai family? You said you owed me a life. You promised to help me.”
“Of course I remember. Qingqing, have you learned something?”
The smile faded from her lips. She looked at him quietly. “Yes. Not long ago, Bai Rui was abducted. The kidnappers threatened my father to come alone. When he arrived, he found Bai Rui—and the corpse of Huang Xun, who had already been murdered. On him was a letter falsely accusing my father. If not for Lord Ning’s timely arrival, the Bai family would’ve been doomed.”
“I know about that. I’ve been investigating it in secret—”
“There’s no need. Someone already told me—the one behind it all was Prince Ping.”
Fu Yi froze. “That’s impossible—”
“In our past life, I married into the Prince’s manor. Both the Princess Consort and His Highness repeatedly warned me that since I had become part of the Fu family, I should cut ties with the Bai family—lest others laugh at us. They told me not to mention them to you, so you wouldn’t be put in a difficult position. Did you know that?”