Bai Qingqing was fuming at Ning Yan’s sarcastic tone, but with Wen Jiang still present, she could only argue back tactfully, “I’m your servant now—of course I have to address you as ‘my lord.’ I need to get used to it so I won’t slip up. What do you expect me to…”

She swallowed the rest, her voice softening, “Please don’t keep picking on me about this.”

But Ning Yan had never been one to listen to reason. His tone remained dissatisfied. “That’s your title in public. There’s no one else around right now.”

The “no one else” in question, Wen Jiang, felt personally attacked. Still, he had zero intention of leaving. Curiosity burned a hole in his chest—wait, so she didn’t always call him ‘Lord Ning’? Then what did she call him?

He recalled how some girls had once tried to get cozy with Ning Yan by sweet-talking him. The man had torn them down with words sharp as knives, reducing those delicate blossoms to mortified sobs. God, he needed to know!

Wen Jiang busied himself with the silver notes, carefully smoothing each one, aligning all the corners like he was handling official documents. Not a word escaped him—he was trying hard to blend in, buy time, and soak in more gossip.

Bai Qingqing was livid. “Still, I need to get used to it. What if I slip and someone realizes I’m not really your servant? I have to keep thinking of myself as one so I won’t give anything away.”

Ning Yan let out a cold laugh. “Ha. My ‘servant’ asks my men to manage her money?”

A chill crawled down Wen Jiang’s spine. Why does he always drag innocent bystanders into his mood swings?

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He quickly looked up and flashed Bai Qingqing a harmless smile. “Don’t mind him. It’s really no trouble at all.”

Bai Qingqing’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. She gave Wen Jiang a grateful bow, then whipped her head around to glare at Ning Yan, puffing up with righteous indignation. “I’m not asking someone to manage it—I’m giving it to be used! Can’t you be reasonable?”

Ning Yan reached out and gently poked her cheek. Her soft skin dented into a tiny dimple beneath his fingertip. “Still got the nerve to glare at me? Saying I’m unreasonable? Seems to me this little servant is more commanding than her master.”

Bai Qingqing: “…”

She drew in a long breath, ducked her head, and shrank away from his finger. Out of his sight, her teeth sank hard into her lower lip in frustration. She had no comeback. It was infuriating.

Wen Jiang watched the whole exchange, trying to keep a straight face. He’d never seen Ning Yan tease a girl like this—didn’t think he even could. The sight gave him a strange chill. When Ning Yan’s eyes suddenly flicked to him, Wen Jiang jolted and rushed to finish tidying the silver notes in record time.

“Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head out first. Oh, and the green bundle in the corner is for Miss Qingqing—shout if you need anything else.”

He darted out like a fish slipping through the net, already eager to find Mu Shu and share this wild little episode.

Once again, the carriage held only Ning Yan and Bai Qingqing. Still smarting from her earlier embarrassment, she grudgingly admitted—he had a point. She didn’t really act like a servant. If there was a problem, she’d just have to fix it.

Determined, Bai Qingqing stirred into action. She leaned toward the hidden compartment that held the kettle and patted around. “My lord, would you like some tea?”

She might not know how to serve attentively, but she had a mouth—she could ask.

When Ning Yan showed no particular interest, she moved on to the snack compartment. To her surprise, it was packed full of little treats and sweets. Suspicion flitted across her mind for a moment, but she dismissed it quickly. “Would you like something to eat, my lord? These… all look pretty tasty.”

Ning Yan had never kept snacks in his carriage before. But now he leaned lazily against the cushion, listening to Bai Qingqing list names, describe flavors, and ask after his preferences. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“All right,” he said quietly. “Pick one for me.”