Ning Yan didn’t stop there. He simply pulled all the nut dishes on the table over to himself, cracked every single one open, then clapped his hands and said gruffly, “Eat them all. Don’t waste.”

Bai Qingqing looked at the table full of split-open nuts with a grimace. “That’s… a lot…”

“If you can’t finish them, take them home and eat them slowly.”

Ning Yan stood up. He’d been here too long—it was time to leave.

“Wait,” Bai Qingqing called after him. “The other day when my shop opened, the gift you sent was too extravagant. I’ve been wondering how to return it to you, but I don’t even know where to send it…”

“If I gave it to you, just use it. I’ve got plenty of that kind of thing.”

With his back to her, Ning Yan waved a hand, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Bai Qingqing stared after him in shock. “Plenty… plenty of that kind of thing?”

…

Of course she couldn’t finish all the nuts, but she didn’t dare waste them either. She had Zidai wrap them up to take along.

When she found Yaoyao, the girl had just finished speaking to a man. Spotting Bai Qingqing, she came bouncing over with a smile. “Sister, where did you wander off to? I went out looking everywhere for you… What’s this?”

“Uh, this is…”

Bai Qingqing tried her best to sound calm as she explained the origins of the nuts, saying that she simply didn’t want to waste someone else’s kind gesture of cracking them for her—so she brought them along.

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Bai Yaoyao nodded understandingly, sweet and considerate as always. Bai Qingqing let out a silent sigh of relief, not noticing the way her little sister’s eyes were darting endlessly toward that bundle of nuts.

The Jin Yiwei lord? At a poetry gathering like this? Personally cracking nuts for her sister, and cracking so many?

Something’s not right!

Her sister was too innocent—just a few cracked nuts and she'd been sweet-talked into submission. It was time to find an opportunity to meet this Lord Ning in person.

The poetry gathering formally began. With Bai Yaoyao providing commentary at her side, Bai Qingqing found it easy to appreciate the charm of the event. A number of handsome and talented young men took the stage, graceful in bearing, their verses flowing effortlessly. Though the competition was intense, the atmosphere was a feast for the eyes and ears.

“What a shame Young Master Fanghe had to leave early,” Bai Yaoyao sighed. “He would’ve outshone them all—so poised, so striking.”

She clearly admired this Master Fanghe. Bai Qingqing didn’t feel any particular regret, merely offering some gentle consolation—pointing out that the other gentlemen had their own merits too. But before she could say much more, Bai Yaoyao was already brimming with enthusiasm again. “You’re right, Sister! We must take a good look and make up for what we missed!”

Bai Qingqing: …That’s not quite what I said…

…

The poetry gathering concluded on a perfect note. Everyone left content, chatting animatedly. On the way home, looking at the fresh, smiling faces of the young men and women of Xuancheng, Bai Qingqing felt a rare peace settle in her heart.

If this kind of calm could last a lifetime, she would gladly welcome it.

That very night, Ning Yan escorted a lone figure into the palace, personally accompanying them to an inner hall to be received in audience.

Half an hour later, the man—who had fought tooth and nail for this chance to meet the emperor—was carried out in silence, a golden dragon-shaped hairpin clenched in his lifeless hand. Its sharp point had pierced his throat, leaving a gaping hole.

Blood soaked his body like a crimson cloak as he was quietly removed from sight.

Rain fell after midnight. Ning Yan stood guard outside the side hall as the emperor, without returning to his chambers, remained within until the break of dawn.

Watching the misty rain swirl through the darkness, Ning Yan closed his eyes.

The Xuan Dynasty—its skies were about to change.