Bai Qingqing blinked in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Why would I lie to you? But it’s strange—wasn’t it you the Princess Consort of Prince Ping had her eye on before? She was all but ready to finalize your engagement to Fu Yi, and now suddenly she’s sniffing around our Mo family?”

A faint, amused scoff escaped Bai Qingqing’s lips. Her fingers reached absentmindedly toward the porcelain dish, picking up a nut. She pressed it gently, realized she couldn’t crack it open, and with a sigh, placed it back.

“I never fancied Fu Yi. She panicked and tried to trap me, but it didn’t work. After that, of course she didn’t dare target the Bai family again.”

“What?” Mo Kexin’s voice spiked. “She tried to set you up?”

Bai Qingqing gave a rueful smile. “There was no proof. She’d planned it well from the start. Even if I confronted her, she’d never admit it.”

“And you just let her off like that?”

Mo Kexin was clearly fuming, her expression as if she’d charge out to demand justice on Bai Qingqing’s behalf if the latter so much as nodded.

“How could I?” Bai Qingqing said calmly. “But a move like that needs patience. Tearing ties with Prince Ping’s household isn’t a trivial matter. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Mo Kexin bit back her frustration. As much as she hated to admit it, Bai Qingqing was right. Prince Ping had once been a pillar of the empire’s military power—no one could afford to challenge him lightly.

Watching Mo Kexin bristle in anger on her behalf, Bai Qingqing felt a subtle warmth stir within her. In her previous life, they’d barely crossed paths. If they were ever mentioned in the same breath, it was only for comparison. Who would’ve thought they’d one day sit together like this, hearts aligned, facing the same foe?

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“The Fu family’s truly shameless. Just wait—I'd ignored Fu Xiao’s scandal before, but now? I’ll make sure people know. Let them carry the weight of their disgrace themselves.”

Righteous fury lit Mo Kexin’s tone. She scolded Bai Qingqing for being too soft—too soft, and that’s why others thought they could bully her.

“I came today to buy more incense, actually. Let’s say it’s my way of apologizing for being so rude last time. Whatever you’ve got that’s exquisite, bring it out. Don’t hold back with me.”

Bai Qingqing obliged, sending someone to fetch a few varieties she personally favored. As expected, Mo Kexin was instantly intrigued. She had a particular fondness for fine fragrances, and the moment she laid eyes—and nose—on them, she was hooked. One by one, she asked about each blend, discussing them with genuine interest.

Bai Qingqing, generous and attentive, shared every detail without reservation. Her voice was gentle, her explanations thoughtful. Amid the elegant, layered scents, she offhandedly declared she’d gift them all to Mo Kexin.

No payment accepted. It was her shop, after all—she made the rules. And in that moment, Bai Qingqing tasted the quiet joy of being the true mistress of her own fate.

...

Mo Kexin gave the incense her wholehearted praise. She’d always considered herself a proud, discerning soul, indifferent to popular opinion—but even in her own heart, she admitted: when it came to the art of scent, she fell short of Bai Qingqing.

There was something enchanting in Bai Qingqing’s creations—a subtle, unmistakable signature that lingered. You could feel it, distinguish it. She was, undeniably, a genius.

And that sentiment wasn’t Mo Kexin’s alone.

Ning Zhao brought the past few days’ reports to Lord Ning Yan for review. Once he’d handed them over, he stood to the side, hands properly at his sides, not daring to speak.

To his surprise, Ning Yan didn’t look at the documents. Instead, he glanced up at Ning Zhao, a subtle frown forming between his brows.

Ning Zhao’s heart skipped a beat. What now? What did I do? I’ve been so well-behaved today—really!

Just as he was silently panicking, Ning Yan reached out, gripped the front of his robe, and pulled him close—only to release him a moment later.

“My lord?” Ning Zhao asked carefully.

“Where did that scent on you come from?”