Qiyue, smiling warmly, pulled Bai Qingqing down to sit and poured her a cup of tea.

Bai Qingqing asked curiously, “Is he really that busy?”

“He has been, lately,” Qiyue replied, “but he still managed to find time to see you. If he didn’t want to, even the most powerful nobles in the capital couldn’t get an audience with him.”

Bai Qingqing nodded half-understanding, and Qiyue, seeing she hadn’t picked up on the implication, sighed silently to herself. My lord, this is as far as I can help you.

They had barely spoken a few words when Die’er knocked and entered with a tall-footed tray, placing it in front of Bai Qingqing before quietly retreating.

Bai Qingqing glanced down and froze. The tray held a pile of nuts—all shelled, and they looked very familiar.

She looked up, puzzled. “Is Lord Ning really that busy? He still had time to shell these?”

Qiyue was momentarily stunned. “These were shelled by my lord?”

“Mhm, I can tell. He’s got a real knack for it—the shells crack clean, but the nuts inside stay whole. They’re super easy to peel. Way better than using one of those little hammers.”

Bai Qingqing picked one up and demonstrated, gently peeling away the broken shell to reveal a perfectly intact kernel, which she popped into her mouth with obvious delight.

Qiyue: “…”

Following Bai Qingqing really is eye-opening. Who knew the lord had this kind of skill? First time I’ve ever seen it.

“My lord truly is very busy. Maybe he knew you liked these and took a little time to shell them just for you. I’ve served him for years and never seen him do anything like this.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Bai Qingqing’s cheeks bulged as she munched contentedly. “Really? I thought so too. He’s such a good man.”

Qiyue: "…" Why did she suddenly feel a little sorry for her lord?

As Bai Qingqing nibbled on nuts, she brought up seeing Fu Xiao downstairs. Qiyue’s tone was dismissive. “It’s not the first time he’s come to Yanlai Pavilion. He’ll give up eventually after knocking his head against the wall a few more times.”

She spoke of her history with Fu Xiao as if it were someone else’s tale—simple and brief, just a chance encounter and love at first sight.

“He’s only more persistent than most men. Once that rush of passion fades, he’ll come to his senses.”

Bai Qingqing watched her expression and, after a moment’s thought, asked softly, “Sister Qiyue… you don’t like him?”

Qiyue smiled. “Women like me learned long ago not to pin hopes on such vague things as love. Men are fickle. I’ve seen too many young girls throw themselves into a man’s arms for a moment of tenderness, only to end up brokenhearted. None of those stories end well.”

Bai Qingqing fell silent. She’d heard stories like that too—mutual affection sparked in a moment, only for the man to treat it as fleeting amusement, casting the woman aside when his interest waned. Some didn’t even get the title of concubine, just became nameless mistresses slowly forgotten.

But in Bai Qingqing’s memory, Fu Xiao’s devotion had lasted a long time. So long that even after Fu Yi became the heir of Prince Ping, Fu Xiao still refused to take a wife.

What happened after that was fuzzy—only that Fu Xiao seemed to have been cast out of the family, and the princess consort had been pleased for quite a while.

“So you stopped dancing recently… was it because of him?”

Qiyue casually tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “More or less. Quite a few people in Xuancheng know it’s me and come to Yanlai Pavilion just to watch the drama. I can’t be bothered with the hassle—it’s a good excuse to take a break.”

Seeing the indignation flash across Bai Qingqing’s face, Qiyue laughed and gently stroked her cheek. “Don’t worry about me, I’m doing just fine. Dancing is just something I enjoy. Women of the Jiyue tribe are born to dance. But I don’t rely on it to survive.”