Outside Xuancheng, Bai Qingqing sat quietly in a plain carriage. Through the window, she looked back. Dusk was falling, and the city gates of Xuancheng were slowly closing behind them.

An inexplicable emptiness welled up in her heart. Could she really be of use? Could she truly find the evidence and expose the hand behind the scenes?

“Don’t look back.”

Bai Qingqing came to herself. Ning Yan was gazing straight ahead. “Look forward. There’s a long road ahead. I’ve already asked Ning Zhao to watch over things in Xuancheng. He’ll send me any news. Don’t worry.”

Seated to his side, Bai Qingqing could only see half of Ning Yan’s face in profile. His tone was calm, almost detached, and his expression was unreadable—yet somehow, those few words brought her an unexpected sense of reassurance.

“Thank you.”

Ning Yan turned his head slightly to glance at her. “No need to thank me just yet. Do you have any plans once we reach the southwest?”

“Father told me I could seek out one of his old confidants—Uncle Shao Chenlei—for help. He’s lived in the southwest for years and knows some of what happened back then. Maybe he can offer something useful.”

Ning Yan gave a faint smile. “A confidant? After what happened with Prince Ping, your father still dares to trust anyone?”

Bai Qingqing froze. What he said… actually made sense!

“But—but Father said this man once went through life and death with him…”

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“Didn’t Prince Ping have the same kind of bond with your father? People change. And after so many years apart, what if this man has become just like Prince Ping? What will you do then?”

Bai Qingqing fell into confusion. “Then… what should I do?”

“I’ll teach you—trust no one.”

A shadow of a smile played on Ning Yan’s lips. “Doubt everyone. Never be completely honest. Speak half-truths. Always guard your heart.”

Bai Qingqing listened quietly. The more she heard, the stranger she felt—she couldn’t help but glance up at him. The way he spoke, so casual and fluent, as if these words came from hard-won experience of his own.

Ning Yan shot her a quick look. “What are you staring at me for? Did you memorize it or not?”

“I did.”

Bai Qingqing licked her lips. “Then… should I still go see Uncle Shao?”

“We’ll see. No rush. We’ll talk about it once we reach the southwest.”

Ning Yan told her the early part of their journey would be smooth—their proximity to the capital ensured that much. But later, they’d have to avoid towns under Prince Ping’s watchful eye. The road would grow rougher.

Bai Qingqing said she didn’t fear hardship. She even told Ning Yan she’d been brushing up on travel survival tips. One by one, she listed them off inside the carriage.

As long as she wasn’t completely off base, Ning Yan gave her a nod of approval. “You’re not wrong, but…” And then he rattled off a string of corrections.

He took the time to point out a few common mistakes people made while traveling the jianghu. Just as he finished, they reached their stop for the night.

They didn’t go to the postal inn. Instead, they found a humble lodging house near it, meant for those without official rank or privilege.

Ning Yan chose the most inconspicuous of the lot. Compared to the other two inns on either side, this one was quiet as a grave. The signboard out front had been faded by years of wind and rain.

But Bai Qingqing didn’t complain. She hugged her little bundle of belongings and followed Ning Yan step for step, even asking thoughtfully where he’d put his own bundle so she could help carry it.

Ning Yan reached over and tugged her bundle out of her hands, weighing it lightly in his palm. It was featherlight. “You really only brought the essentials?”

Bai Qingqing suddenly leaned close, tugged on his sleeve, and pulled him down toward her. She whispered secretly in his ear, “I also brought banknotes. A lot of them—enough for both of us to spend.”