Only then did Ning Yan recall the look in Bai Qingqing’s eyes when she asked if he remembered anyone from childhood—there had been a flicker of hope in them. But back then, he’d just thought she was being curious.
“Wait—if you confirmed it with her, why didn’t she just come out and tell me?”
“Because you didn’t remember a damn thing!” Pei Lingshu shot him a glare. “What, she was supposed to beg you to remember her? You think little girls don’t have pride? Use that clever head of yours for once!”
Ning Yan, unusually, didn’t snap back. Thinking it over, maybe it was his fault. But who would've thought Bai Qingqing was that same little girl from back then?
He hadn’t been that old himself, and for various reasons, he’d been especially wary of strangers—prickly, cold, unapproachable. Even as a kid, he had a natural air of intimidation. Most children avoided him.
It was Pei Lingshu who had dragged him to Xuancheng, hoping a change of scenery would lighten his mood. But at that age, Ning Yan found fault with everything, like a hedgehog bristling at the world.
When someone tugged on his sleeve, he turned around ready to glare—but the moment he saw who it was, all the thorns flattened.
A pair of big, round eyes filled with timid softness looked up at him. Her tiny, rosy face was no bigger than a palm, and the whole girl seemed spun out of clouds—fluffy, soft, and smelling faintly sweet.
Back then, Ning Yan had thought, One poke and this thing might burst into tears.
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And somehow, this fragrant little puffball kept following him around. Even though she’d tear up the moment he scowled, she was easy to coax back with a few kind words. Then she’d trot after him again, chirping “Big Brother, Big Brother”—so was she brave or not? He never could tell.
"That little puffball was really Bai Qingqing? And what did you just say—‘Yanyan-gege’? I think... that was what she used to call me.”
A sudden sense of missed opportunity swept over Ning Yan. Sure, “Yan-gege” was nice, but “Yanyan-gege” had a certain charm to it, didn’t it?
Pei Lingshu rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even remember her, and now you’re worried about nicknames? What matters is that she’s going to the southwest. What are you going to do about it?”
Dragging the conversation back to business, Ning Yan’s expression sobered. A crease lingered between his brows. “The Emperor’s been dropping hints—he wants me to head southwest for reconnaissance. It’ll be soon.”
“Then it’s perfect! You can take Qingqing with you.”
Ning Yan gave him a sidelong glance and chuckled. “You think it’s that simple? I’ve started digging into who set up Bai Rui and framed the Duke of England. I’ve found a lead. Guess who?”
Pei Lingshu sat up straight, all his usual warmth replaced by a flash of cold steel. “Who?”
“You’d never guess—Prince Ping.”
“Him?”
“I thought the same. But the more I looked, the more it made sense. If he really wanted to pin it on the Duke, he’d have laid his trap more subtly, stayed hidden. But instead, he jumped out too fast—exposing himself without sealing the Duke’s guilt. Why would he be so rash? Unless... I stumbled onto something without meaning to.”
Even Ning Yan found it amusing. What had started as a way to vent Bai Qingqing’s anger and give her enemies some grief had ended up sending Prince Ping into a panic.
“But I’ve got no hard proof,” he went on. “And don’t forget—when it came to the old rebellion, he cleaned his hands spotless. Now he hides behind past military merit, acting high and mighty. The Emperor’s been itching for a reason to bring him down. He won’t waste this chance. In the clash that’s coming... the Bai family is just the piece on the board.”