“What do you mean, ‘Brother Yanyan’? What nonsense are you spouting?”
Ning Yan looked annoyed. “Are your ears failing you at your age? Should I call Wen Jiang to take a look? It’s Brother Yan, Yan as in Ning Yan!”
Pei Lingshu’s eyes flicked sideways. So she hadn’t told him yet?
Could it be that Ning Yan now wasn’t as good as the ‘Brother Yanyan’ she remembered? Judging by the way Bai Qingqing spoke of her childhood, she’d been awfully fond of him. It made no sense she wouldn’t tell Ning Yan the truth.
“Did Qingqing... mention anything else to you?”
Ning Yan’s face darkened again. “Mention what? She didn’t say a word about going to the southwest. Just talked about childhood memories and trivial things. Said she didn’t want to trouble me. As if I’d care about one more trouble now?”
Pei Lingshu sighed. “If I wasn’t sure you’d beat me, I’d punch you right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you deserve it.”
Pei Lingshu was done with him. “She shared childhood memories with you—what did you say?”
Ning Yan gave him a puzzled look. “What could I say? Who remembers anything from back then? She even asked if I remembered anyone. Ha! You’ve known me since we were kids—tell me, who among them was worth remembering?”
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Pei Lingshu sighed again, a trace of sympathy hidden in the sound. Ning Yan wasn’t wrong. With a family like his... there really hadn’t been anyone worth remembering.
“That’s not what I’m asking. Back then—wasn’t there even one person who made an impression on you? Think again. One year, when my father came to the capital to report for duty, we both came with him to Xuancheng. Do you remember that?”
Ning Yan had to focus to recall. “Vaguely, I suppose. But we were so young back then, just tagging along for the fun of it.”
“Do you remember that little girl we met in Xuancheng? The three of us? She was gorgeous, like a doll carved from jade. Always crying, but strangely not afraid of you. You even gave her a nickname—ring any bells?”
Ning Yan frowned, eyes narrowing. And strangely enough, now that Pei Lingshu mentioned it, something stirred in his memory. He couldn’t recall her exact face, just a soft, rosy blur.
“She was a funny little thing. All squishy and clueless—crying one second, soothed the next.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think that was when I first realized little girls weren’t all annoying. And she always smelled nice. Didn’t I call her Xiangxiang Meimei? It was just to tease her, but she didn’t even react. Didn’t get mad, either. I remember thinking she was kind of adorable.”
Pei Lingshu nearly rolled his eyes. Good thing Bai Qingqing didn’t ask him that day—if he’d remembered then, fate might’ve ended right there.
He gave a dry chuckle. “Adorable, huh? Dumb little girl you could tease for fun? You remember me saying Qingqing was always delicate and soft when she was little? Want to guess how I know that?”
If he couldn’t figure it out now, then there was nothing more to say.
Ning Yan’s gaze flickered, uncertainty flashing across his face. Slowly, his brows lifted, a glint of realization lighting up his fox-like eyes.
“You mean... Bai Qingqing was that little girl? Xiangxiang Meimei?”
For once, he looked genuinely shocked. “Seriously? You confirmed this? Xuancheng’s a big place—how could it possibly be that much of a coincidence?”
Pei Lingshu poured himself a fresh cup of wine, completely unbothered. “That’s what we call fate. Shame, though—she remembered you, but you forgot her clean.”