Ning Yan simply didn’t want to see her acting like a love-struck fool over Qiyue. He hadn’t expected her to offer anything useful—after all, that man was already dead. The investigation had confirmed it was an accident, with no signs of foul play. Even if one wished to dig deeper, there were no clues to pursue.

The perfumer from the Western Regions had long since left Xuancheng, but the fragrance he had crafted—and which Ning Yan had replicated—was now stirring unseen currents throughout the city. The yamen had already received several reports: people claiming they’d been manipulated by incense, their minds clouded. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before word reached the Emperor.

Agitation coiled in Ning Yan’s chest. His hand moved unconsciously toward the sachet at his waist—then stopped, remembering where he was. He lifted his head.

Bai Qingqing’s expression was strange. Hesitation and inner turmoil were written all over her face. After a long pause, she finally asked, in a small, tentative voice, “Lord Ning… if someone never meant to hurt anyone, but accidentally caused trouble… could that be considered forgivable?”

“That depends,” he said. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”

Her lips drooped. After wrestling with herself, she finally gathered the courage to confess. “The incense that made you feel unwell… it might’ve been mine.”

Ning Yan: “?”

He rarely felt shock—but now, he nearly spilled the tea in his hand. “And how do you figure that?”

Bai Qingqing poured everything out in one breath. “It was a batch I messed up. I never thought anyone would covet it, but someone did. I’ve already punished the maid who took it. Still… it started because of me. I’m sorry.”

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

She kept her head down and didn’t see how his gaze changed as it landed on her. “Do you know who your maid sold it to?”

“She said she didn’t know his real name. Everyone just called him Huang Mazi.”

Ning Yan’s eyes narrowed. The poor bastard who’d been crushed to death in the street—that was his nickname. So she’d been telling the truth.

But it was almost absurd. A young woman crafting incense in her boudoir, just passing time, had made something this potent?

Bai Qingqing was still trying her best to make amends. “But I didn’t make much of it. And the sachet I gave you—the one that says ‘Calm Down’

—that one’s supposed to ease discomfort…”

“Do you realize,” Ning Yan said slowly, “that incense was used against me—with the intent to kill?”

She flinched. Her teeth sank into her lip as she lifted her gaze to meet his—only to drop it again just as fast. “It was my fault.”

He almost laughed. At least she didn’t try to deny it. “Even if it was unintentional, you still failed to manage your servants, and that allowed the incense to leak. And now, it’s causing more trouble than you can imagine. Someone’s taken your formula, copied it, and is using it to harm others.”

She sucked in a breath, her eyes filling with panic. “How could that be? I… I didn’t know…”

She had never experienced anything like this—never even harbored thoughts of hurting another. The idea that someone might suffer because of her incense left her shaken and lost. “What should I do? I swear I didn’t mean it…”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Her whole frame trembled with helplessness.

Ning Yan hadn’t expected her to be this timid—so easily frightened. He frowned. “Why are you crying?”

But instead of calming down, she snapped, throwing caution to the wind. “Can’t I cry if I want to? I’m scared—what’s wrong with that?!”

Her tears streamed harder. Her small mouth quivered in grievance. Something this terrifying had happened, and now he wouldn’t even let her cry—what was he, a monster?

Ning Yan had never been confronted so directly. And with her eyes wet like that, he found himself at a loss. For the first time, he didn’t know what to do—how to make her stop.