Lost in his thoughts, Ling Fengxiao would never think to peek inside a carriage where a certain fangirl was currently sitting on the seats with sparkling eyes.
She’d never seen the inside of Ling Fengxiao’s carriage before! This was a larger model designed to transport guests, so the suspension system was sturdier to prevent bumps in the road. The seat back and cushions were generously thick and there was even a tiger skin on the floor, though the interior was decorated in typical masculine tastes of dark wood and deep hues.
Oh man, are these memory foam? Mei Yanran’s imagination ran a little off-kilter as she pressed down on the squishy seats. Did ancient China even have stuff like that?
Because she was so preoccupied with the inside, she never bothered glancing out the windows. Ling Fengxiao’s guards reported as much from their posts trailing the carriage, giving him some peace of mind.
At least the girl’s sensible when it comes to acting in public. He wouldn’t know what to say if any eye caught him sitting on the outside of a carriage holding a young female.
By the time they arrived at the gates of Ling Fengxiao’s secluded estate outside the city, he was willing to graciously offer her a hand down the carriage. Like before, she grasped him firmly to get her bearings. It was a marked difference from the faint, tremulous ladies’ hands he’d been forced to help before, but Ling Fengxiao found he didn’t mind. This was better than trying to figure out if he was using too much or too little strength to hold them steady.
No female servants came to greet them at the door, but Chang Yin and two guards had appeared at the doors. After a glance from his master, he simply dismissed the other two and approached the pair alone.
“Master Ling, Miss Mei,” he demurred politely. Being present at the Snow Festival meant he was long familiar with Mei Yanran, to say nothing of the inquiries Ling Fengxiao had asked him to make later. “Please come inside.”
Strangely enough, the dancers and musicians he’d questioned after the festival only said they were good friends with Miss Mei and honored to help her out despite the latter only moving to the capital recently. From what he could gauge of their reactions, Miss Mei was a girl who easily charmed friends and admirers.
Soon enough, the trio reached the guest hall, where Chang Yin prepared his master and guest tea before tacitly withdrawing from the room. As Mei Yanran beamed on, Ling Fengxiao poured her a cup and made a gesture for her to help herself. Mei Yanan was all too eager to comply, though she held back enough to look delicate while sipping the earthy oolong brew.
After an appropriate amount of time had passed, Ling Fengxiao began his attack. His motive for inviting Mei Yanran here was twofold: to question her on her origins, trying to draw out suspicious points, and attempt to guess her motives for approaching him. By now, it was beyond doubt that the girl had vested interests in his person—but for what purpose? Only she herself knew.
“I hear that Miss Mei is from the jiangnan regions in the south,” Ling Fengxiao began. “Have you been faring well in our northern winter?”
“Oh, one gets used to the weather sooner or later,” Mei Yanran chirped back. Her dance academy had been located in northeast China as well, where the winters could get bitterly cold. This wasn’t too different from her school days.
“Indeed? Then Miss Mei is more versatile than I,” Ling Fengxiao went on. He glanced towards the door, and Chang Yin re-entered on cue with a plate of pastries. The man set them down on the table as Ling Fengxiao went on, “I once had the fortune of traveling south and was greatly inconvenienced by its heat.”
“Really?” Mei Yanran piped up with interest. She hadn’t read anything like that in the novel. Sweet, some secret backstory stuff!
“Yes. My foster father had a territory there, and sent me on an inspection tour during my youth…” Ling Fengxiao trailed off meaningfully, noting how Mei Yanran was hanging on to his every word. “...though I doubt such things interest you, Miss Mei.”
“No, no, keep going!” Mei Yanran pressed. Then realizing her own slip, she added hastily, “Listening to your journey will remind me of home. I admit, I’m a little nostalgic.”
Ling Fengxiao gave her a long look, but ultimately indulged her. Meanwhile, Chang Yin had moved to a side table to fiddle with something before retreating out of sight again. As Ling Fengxiao went on, Mei Yanran finally recognized his descriptions from one of the many accomplishments that the youthful Ling Fengxiao had done to solidify his reputation in the later years. Predictably, there was a sensational tale of corrupt officials, innocent victims, and Lord Ling’s merciless judgment in the mix, which the novel had only skimmed over in favor of the male and female leads.
She listened with rapt attention to his exploits, asking questions whenever something intrigued her. To his credit, Ling Fengxiao answered every single one. Mei Yanran’s heart was singing inside.
So patient! So gentle! This must be the “soft side” that Ling Fengxiao only shows to his friends and l-love, love…!
She mentally covered her face in her hands as her face flushed red. Ling Fengxiao paused in the middle of explaining the mechanics of the finger torture trap to look at her with mild consternation.
“Apologies, Miss Mei. Is it too much for you?” It was strange enough that she was drilling him for details on how he dealt with the criminals leeching off his foster father’s territory, but she had even asked him for specifics on their punishments. He had obliged because it was a lady’s request, but began to doubt whether he’d gone too far when Mei Yanran’s face turned alarmingly red.
“N-no, I was...I was just getting caught up in the moment!” Mei Yanran declared. “Um, you can go on, I don’t mind!”
Instead, Ling Fengxiao tactfully refused. “It would be remiss of me to only indulge myself. Perhaps Miss Mei could do me the honor of sharing the charms of your hometown instead?”
But I don’t know anything about the jiangnan! Mei Yanran flailed briefly, then suddenly cried, “May we visit the Winterflower Woods instead?”
Ling Fengxiao was caught in the middle of his next perfectly poised question and leaned back in his seat to take a sip of tea.
“Of course. By the Empress Dowager’s orders, I am at your command.”
So plot convenient, Mei Yanran gloated privately.
So cunningly direct, Ling Fengxiao decided.
The two of them smiled at each other, one oblivious, one wary, before Ling Fengxiao invited Mei Yanran to the doors. Halfway through the room, she paused at the same side table where Chang Yin had been fiddling to take a sniff of the incense burner sending swirls or smoke in the air.
“This scent…” Mei Yanran mused. “It’s familiar.”
Ling Fengxiao looked over casually and remarked, “It’s an imported incense from the south. I believe it’s called—”
“South Heaven Fragrance!” Mei Yanran declared. The same one she was planning to gift the female lead. Does Ling Fengxiao like flowery scents like this too?
She glanced at him curiously, only to see his expression soften. “You know it?”
“It’s a speciality from my hometown!” Mei Yanran explained cheerfully. She’d liked the scent of the incense when she first ended up here and committed its origins and story to memory.
“It holds special memories for me as well,” Ling Fengxiao murmured, almost too low to hear.
Ah. Ah? A light bulb went on in her head. Are we having a moment?
Mei Yanran saw a chance and took it. “Lord Ling, we have boxes of this incense at home. If you like it, I’ll bring some for you next time!”
“That would be...appreciated,” Ling Fengxiao said quietly.
To think, this daughter of a minor official would come from the same town where he’d last seen his mother alive.
How very curious.
