Nanny Chang stood frozen in shock. It wasn’t until long after the slap rang out that she rushed to the princess consort’s side. She was just about to speak up and question how His Highness could strike his own wife when she looked up—and fell silent, her words lodged in her throat.
In all her years of serving the princess consort, she had never seen such a terrifying expression on the prince’s face. In his eyes flickered a faint, unmistakable trace of killing intent—it was chilling.
Fu Yanghong left with a face like thunder. As he walked out, he ordered the guards to keep a close watch on the princess consort—she was not to take one step outside without his permission.
That single slap had utterly stunned the princess consort. In all the years since their marriage, no matter how heated things beca, Fu Yanghong had never once laid a hand on her—at most, he would scold her or give her the cold shoulder.
The burning pain on her cheek made her feel like her soul had been knocked loose. When she finally ca to her senses, she charged for the door like a madwoman, desperate to confront Fu Yanghong and demand an explanation.
But she couldn’t leave anymore.
She couldn’t understand—wasn’t it just the Bai family? Just the Duke of Britain’s household? Why did Fu Yanghong care so much? Could it be… the Bai family mattered more to him than her own natal clan?
…
The Emperor’s edict was delivered to the Duke of Britain’s residence. Bai Qingqing saw the decree with her own eyes, and at last, the heavy stone in her heart was lifted.
At the very least, she no longer had to worry about currying favor with the Princess Consort of Prince Ping’s household. Nor did she need to fear marrying the wrong man. Even if she remained unmarried for life, who could fault her? Was it her fault she hadn’t found soone she was satisfied with?
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With one major problem resolved, the next issue was how to properly thank Ning Yan.
But that… that was proving even harder than dealing with the princess consort.
Bai Qingqing wracked her brain and still couldn’t co up with a plan. Then, suddenly struck by inspiration, she thought—why not ask soone who actually knew Ning Yan? If she figured out what he liked and played to his tastes, it couldn’t go wrong.
So she returned to Yanlai Pavilion and sought out Qiyue.
“You want to know what the Lord likes?”
Qiyue, usually clever and quick-witted as if nothing could ever stump her, was taken aback. Her eyes glazed over for a mont before she murmured, “This… I honestly don’t know.”
“But Lord Ning said he tells you everything—surely you know sothing about him, right? I wouldn’t be bothering you if I had any other way. He helped so much, yet I have no idea how to thank him. He just seems… uninterested in everything.”
“You’re not wrong,” Qiyue agreed. “I’ve never seen him take a liking to anything in particular, whether a person or an object... But I believe that as long as it’s sothing you’ve prepared with sincerity, the Lord will like it.”
“That’s not a given. I once gave him so scented sachets, and he acted like they were sothing vile.”
Qiyue: “…”
What was wrong with the Lord? Even faced with soone as lovely as Qingqing, he could still manage to be so picky? No wonder people whispered behind his back that he was cursed by the heavens to be alone. If that curse existed, he’d probably brought it on himself.
Qiyue truly wanted to help ease Bai Qingqing’s worries, but this particular problem was too thorny. The two of them racked their brains for a long ti, yet couldn’t co up with anything good.
Seeing Bai Qingqing grow increasingly dejected, Qiyue suddenly rembered sothing and smiled, hoping to cheer her up. “Speaking of gifts, I’ve prepared sothing for you too. Wait here—I’ll go fetch it.”
She got up and left the room, returning monts later with a tray in her hands. Resting atop it was a neatly arranged set of red garnts.
Bai Qingqing sat up straight the mont her eyes landed on it. The tassels draping over the edge of the tray looked so familiar—it was the very sa attire Qiyue wore when she danced, the signature costu of the Jiyue Tribe.
Qiyue set the tray down with a smile. “I made this for you. I knew you’d like it. This is the traditional dress of the Jiyue won. Every girl in our tribe dreams of the day she can wear it—it marks the most beautiful mont in her life.”
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