Ning Yan spat out the words viciously, then released her. When he saw the red mark blooming on her delicate, pale chin—despite knowing full well he hadn’t used much force—it still stung his eyes.

“So quick to bruise. You’d think I really bullied you.”

With a look of impatience, he reached into the ice basin, wrapped a shard in a cloth, and pressed it against her chin. The sudden chill made Bai Qingqing instinctively flinch, but her head was firmly held in place by his large hand, leaving her no room to escape. Her face twisted with discomfort from the cold.

“That’s not necessary. I’m fine. I bruise easily—it’ll fade on its own in a little while…”

Her voice trailed off under Ning Yan’s gaze. She fell quiet, obediently letting him apply the cold compress. Only when he finally lifted the cloth did she dare to breathe, though his expression was still dark, and her nervous glances only made it worse.

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Bai Qingqing knew this couldn’t go on—she had been in the wrong—so she summoned her courage, gently tugged at Ning Yan’s sleeve, and when he didn’t pull away, she looked up at him with all the sincerity she could muster.

“Please don’t be angry anymore. It’s scary. I won’t do it again.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

Ning Yan’s eyes narrowed, and Bai Qingqing shook her head like a rattle drum. “No, no, definitely no next time. I’m not always this… dense.”

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She wasn’t even apologizing to the point, and Ning Yan’s gaze lingered on her slender neck, itching to bite down just to vent his frustration.

Sensing his stare, Bai Qingqing shivered and instinctively stepped back half a pace. She touched her neck—cool to the touch.

But Ning Yan did nothing—just looked at her with that strange expression. Bai Qingqing squirmed under the weight of his gaze, unsure how to break the tension. After a moment of internal struggle, her hands moved on their own, fingers sneaking toward her spice pouch.

Ning Yan watched her fumbling movements—at first absentminded, then gradually absorbed. Before long, she’d forgotten all about him, engrossed in her little world of scent and spice.

He drew in a slow breath. If it had been the old him, how could he possibly have tolerated being so thoroughly ignored? But when he looked at Bai Qingqing, so focused and serious, his fingers, resting loosely on his knee, twitched once—then stilled. In the end, he didn’t disturb her.

…

By the time Zidai knocked at the door, dusk had already begun to fall outside. “Miss, it’s getting late. We should head back to the manor.”

Bai Qingqing responded out of habit before her mind caught up, then slowly set down the things in her hands. She sat in the chair for a moment, letting her thoughts settle, but couldn’t shake the vague feeling that something was off.

What was it?

She blinked in confusion, scanning the room until her eyes landed on the table—there, a small plate of nuts had all been cracked open.

A jolt ran through her mind, and everything came rushing back. Ning Yan had been here!

And he hadn’t looked happy! Then… she’d gotten flustered and tried to busy herself with something, and then—

Her mouth slowly fell open in disbelief. Where was he? When had he left? Just—just like that?

Still dazed, Bai Qingqing stepped up to the table. She noticed something peculiar—the nuts this time were crushed a little more… violently than before.

She didn’t know why, but a laugh escaped her. The image popped unbidden into her mind: Ning Yan, stone-faced, cracking nuts with silent fury. Somehow, it was kind of funny.

The entire plate had been opened. Bai Qingqing picked one up and popped the kernel into her mouth.

Delicious.