“The second matter—I didn’t mention this to your father earlier, because I don’t have concrete evidence. But I believe you should know. As for whether you choose to tell him, that’s for you to decide.”
Seeing his expression grow solemn, Bai Qingqing instinctively straightened her posture. “What is it?”
“Regarding the incident when your brother was abducted on the streets of Xuancheng and used to threaten your father into going to the locust grove outside the city—I had my men investigate further. There are faint traces suggesting that Prince Ping might be involved.”
Bai Qingqing’s face turned pale in an instant, her lips losing all color. “Prince… Ping?”
The name sounded so absurd in her ears, like something out of a fantastical tale. “How could it be…”
“As I said, I have no hard evidence. A matter like this is rarely handled so sloppily as to leave proof behind. So if you don’t believe it, I understand. I know the Duke of Ying’s household has long had close ties with Prince Ping. It’s only natural this is hard to accept.”
“No, wait—let me think…”
Bai Qingqing weakly grabbed Ning Yan’s sleeve, her empty gaze fixed on the ground.
It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him—it was just too sudden, too far beyond the bounds of anything she’d imagined. But…
Flashes of her past life returned to her. Her father was warm and courteous, yes, but he wasn’t naive. How could the Bai family have been so thoroughly destroyed, without a single hint of warning? To be betrayed so completely, so flawlessly, the enemy had to be someone close—someone they trusted.
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Prince Ping’s household had forbidden her from contacting the Bai family, yet whenever she made a scene, Fu Yi always managed to update her on how they were doing. And strangely, he’d even question how she could not know herself—speaking as though the Fu and Bai families were tightly bound.
Bai Qingqing’s body grew cold, her fingertips trembling with icy numbness. If—if Ning Yan was right, and the Bai family’s downfall truly had something to do with Prince Ping, then was she the excuse they used to plant those false charges? And in this life, because she hadn’t married Fu Yi, even ended up at odds with the Fu family, everything had gone differently—and the Bai family was still safe and sound?
“What is it? Are you that heartbroken?”
Ning Yan caught her as she began to slump, unconscious of her body going limp. His brows knit the moment he touched her hand—it was freezing cold.
Bai Qingqing clutched at his sleeve like someone drowning, gasping for air as if she couldn’t breathe.
Ning Yan scooped her into his lap with one motion, pressing a steadying hand to her back and whispering in her ear, low and calm, “Slow down, breathe in… yes, now breathe out…”
The ringing in her ears slowly faded, replaced by his voice. When Bai Qingqing finally came to, it felt like being dragged from deep water, her whole body soaked in cold sweat.
She had no strength left. Horror and remorse surged inside her, nearly drowning her. So in her previous life, the one who doomed the Bai family… was it her? The thought shattered her. Tears spilled, one after another, and she couldn’t stop them.
Ning Yan let out a long sigh, refraining from sarcasm for once. He simply slipped a handkerchief into her grasp—not the one embroidered with orchids that she always carried, but his own, plain and unused till now.
Why did she cry so much? And not the kind of tears that came with tantrums or shrill sobbing—just quiet, ceaseless weeping that shook a person’s soul.
Afraid she’d cry herself dry, Ning Yan even asked, every now and then, if she wanted to sip some water to replenish what she’d lost.
That alone made it impossible for Bai Qingqing to keep crying. She gently declined the teacup he held to her lips. Steeling herself, she wiped her face and finally realized—to her utter embarrassment—that she’d been sitting on Ning Yan’s lap the entire time, nestled against his chest like she’d cried herself into his arms.