Next month was Madam Qiao’s birthday, and Bai Yaoyao had come to discuss plans for the celebration. But Bai Qingqing had been terribly distracted these past few days; mid-conversation, her gaze would often drift off, her soul seemingly wandering who knew where.
Bai Yaoyao, who prided herself on having absorbed the essence of all the romance novels and storybooks she devoured, immediately jumped to a conclusion—this was unmistakably the stirrings of young love, the ache of longing.
In her mind, the image of that Lord Ning appeared at once. She scooted closer to Bai Qingqing and asked in a hushed voice, “Sister, I heard you know Lord Ning of the Embroidered Guards? What kind of person is he? Bai Rui said all the Embroidered Guards are savage brutes who don’t listen to reason.”
Bai Qingqing shook her head. “Bai Rui is too biased. Not everyone is like that. Lord Ning... though he can be infuriating at times, he’s a good man.”
Thinking of the secret Ning Yan had confided to her, Bai Qingqing emphasized, “A truly kindhearted and warm soul.”
No doubt about it, Bai Yaoyao thought to herself, sealing her conclusion. For her sister to praise someone with such earnestness, she must have fallen for Lord Ning.
Still, a faint worry gnawed at her. Bai Rui’s words couldn’t be taken as absolute truth, but many in Xuancheng feared the Embroidered Guards—mentioning them only with trembling voices and cautious words.
Her sister was soft-tempered, pure-hearted, and always inclined to see the best in people. What if she was deceived?
Without breathing a word to anyone else, Bai Yaoyao found an excuse to go shopping and made her way straight to the Embroidered Guard’s office.
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Inside, Ning Zhao was clinging miserably to Ning Yan’s leg, refusing to let go. “Uncle, dear uncle, my honored ancestor! I just got back, I haven’t even caught my breath yet! Even the horse I rode home on hasn’t recovered! It’s just a few nursery rhymes, can’t you let someone else investigate? Please, let me rest!”
Ning Yan watched him with a slow, creeping smile. Ning Zhao felt his hair stand on end and, without another word, silently let go and stood up. "Understood, sir. I’ll get right on it."
With his head drooping, he trudged toward the door. A colleague who was on good terms with him slung an arm over his shoulder and whispered, "Zhao, is Lord Ning really your uncle? Blood-related?"
Ning Zhao gave a hollow laugh. "If he were truly my uncle, would he treat me ?"
"Well... maybe he still would?"
Ning Zhao thought about it and found the logic depressingly sound. His face drooped even further. "Not by blood. Distantly related at best. It was me who shamelessly clung to him. He’s... insanely capable."
He didn’t want to get into the details. In this life, Ning Zhao thought, if he could have even half of Ning Yan’s ability and presence, he would die content.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Ning Zhao turned and caught his friend in a headlock. "You bunch of useless slackers! I just got back and now I’m the one running errands? What the hell are you all doing?"
"Ow, ow! Don’t even start. We’ve been skinned alive these past few days! Look, just look at the bloodshot mess that used to be my beautiful eyes! The lord has been working us to the bone. You getting sent out? That’s called dodging a bullet, you hear me? You should be buying us drinks!"
Ning Zhao rolled his eyes and let go. The man straightened his clothes and shoved something into his hand. "Don't say your brothers don’t care about you. Take this."
He looked down—it was a sachet of scented herbs—and his face immediately darkened. "Are you crazy? The lord hates these things! If he sees this on me..."
"Please. Are you even paying attention? Didn’t you see the sachet hanging from his own belt? Didn’t you notice everyone’s wearing one now? Times have changed, little brother. Don’t forget you owe us drinks."
Ning Zhao stood there, dumbfounded, turning the sachet over in his hand. He glanced around—sure enough, every single one of them had one dangling from their waist.
What on earth had he missed while he was away running that errand?