Sang Ning's fingers paused slightly on the pipa strings.
Old Madam He also noticed He Siyu's sudden arrival: "What brings you here?"
He Siyu averted his gaze and sauntered in lazily: "To have lunch with you, Grandma."
Old Madam He gave him a strange look—how odd. Had he really made a special trip just to have lunch with her?
A servant happened to enter: "Madam, lunch is ready."
Old Madam He turned to Sang Ning: "Stay for lunch. You’ve already spent half the day keeping an old woman like me company."
Sang Ning nodded gently and handed the pipa to the servant: "Thank you, Madam He."
She followed Old Madam He as they rose and headed to the dining room.
He Siyu swept a cool glance over her before turning and walking ahead.
Old Madam He took her seat at the head of the table, with He Siyu sitting to her right and Sang Ning to her left.
In high spirits, Old Madam He said to Sang Ning, "Your pipa playing is exquisite—graceful and refined. It’s just a shame you’ve never performed publicly."
Sang Ning smiled demurely. "Playing music is for personal enjoyment and cultivation. It doesn’t need an audience to be worthwhile."
The old lady nodded repeatedly. "True. No wonder you’re so composed for your age."
Sang Ning beamed sweetly. "Thank you for the praise, Madam He."
He Siyu sat across from her. When he glanced up, he saw her flashing a bright smile, her little white teeth on full display, a faint dimple appearing on her cheek.
It suddenly struck him—whenever she smiled at him, he had never seen that dimple before.
His gaze turned icy as he asked nonchalantly, "What piece were you playing earlier?"
Sang Ning looked at him, the dimple fading slightly as she replied politely, "It was 'Spring River Flower Moon Night.'"
Old Madam He chuckled. "Your grandfather loved that piece. I listened to it countless times with him back then. The old masters played it with such depth, but nowadays, alas, no one captures that feeling anymore. Hearing Sang Ning play it today was a delightful surprise. It’s been so long since I’ve heard such elegant pipa music."
He Siyu took a sip of water. "Did your monk teacher also teach you the pipa?"
Sang Ning had long mastered the art of deflection. "He traveled everywhere with his pipa."
Old Madam He marveled, "In my day, wandering monks were common—each with remarkable skills. You rarely see them now."
He Siyu smirked faintly, his gaze lingering on Sang Ning with an unreadable expression.
Sang Ning picked up a piece of shrimp and ate it, feeling the chill of his stare but refusing to look up.
Old Madam He turned to He Siyu. "Why the sudden visit today?"
He Siyu replied casually, "Had some free time."
The old lady gave him another odd look but didn’t press further, instead warmly urging Sang Ning to eat more.
After lunch, Sang Ning excused herself.
Old Madam He, who had taken a liking to her, held her hand. "Come visit again whenever you’re free."
The old lady had always enjoyed the company of younger generations, and Sang Ning was one of the few well-mannered young women left these days. As a former lady of high society herself, Old Madam He naturally found her delightful to talk to.
Sang Ning nodded obediently. "As long as you don’t mind, I’d love to visit often—and have the honor of playing that rosewood pipa again."
"That pipa deserves no one but you," Old Madam He said cheerfully.
"Then I’ll take my leave now. Goodbye, Madam He."
She hesitated before turning to He Siyu. "Goodbye, Mr. He."
He Siyu didn’t bother standing. He lounged in the rattan chair, his long legs sprawled carelessly, and merely grunted in acknowledgment.
Old Madam He glanced back at him. "Go see her off. Her family’s driver left this morning."
Sang Ning didn’t have her own car yet—the one she used belonged to Nan Siya’s household. Uncle Zhang had dropped her off earlier, but when Nan Siya needed to go out, he had to drive back.
He Siyu lazily poked at a rose in the nearby vase. "She’s got legs, hasn’t she?"
Sang Ning quickly interjected, "No need, Madam He. Mr. He must be busy, and I wouldn’t want to trouble him. I’ll just take a cab."
He Siyu lifted his eyelids, eyeing her. "Who said I’m busy?"
"..."
Dealing with someone who refused to play by social rules was exhausting.
Old Madam He walked over, snatched the vase from He Siyu’s side to save her flowers from further abuse, and glared at him. "Stop lazing around and go see Miss Nan off."
Only then did He Siyu rise with an air of condescension, his tall frame unfolding like a force of nature.
He strode forward. "Let’s go."
Sang Ning forced a smile at Old Madam He. "Goodbye, Madam He."
"Go on, come again soon," the old lady said warmly.
Sang Ning nodded, then turned and followed the man ahead with an impassive expression.
He Siyu had driven himself today. He opened the driver’s door while Sang Ning instinctively reached for the backseat.
He stood still. "Am I your chauffeur?"
Her hand froze on the handle before she realized he expected her to sit up front.
Did this man have to be so bluntly rude?
Sang Ning smiled. "Who would dare treat someone like you as a driver?"
If he were her driver, she’d fire him on the spot.
He Siyu raised a brow. "Was that sarcasm?"
"Of course not," she said with wide-eyed sincerity.
He scoffed and got in. Sang Ning opened the passenger door and slid into the seat.
The black Bentley glided smoothly out of the courtyard.
Old Madam He watched from the window until the car disappeared before turning back to tend to her roses.
"The young master rarely visits. Why did you send him away?" a servant asked.
Without looking up, the old lady sighed, gently touching the petals He Siyu had damaged. "Since when does he suddenly remember his grandmother at noon? I doubt it’s for anything good. Besides, he was ruining my flowers."
"Though the young master is unruly, he’s never caused real trouble. He handles things reliably."
"Oh, he’s reliable—at making sure others are thoroughly dealt with."
She snorted, then frowned slightly. What had he really come for today?
"Taking you back to the Nan residence?"
He Siyu’s hands rested lightly on the steering wheel as light and shadow flickered across his striking features. His voice was languid.
Sang Ning checked her phone—it was past one. She had plans to meet Ji Yan at two.
"Drop me at Taikoo Li."
"What for?"
"Meeting a friend."
He said nothing more, and neither did she.
The car fell into silence. No music played, but the cabin’s impeccable soundproofing left no room for outside noise.
Strangely, he didn’t find the quiet unpleasant.
Sang Ning, too, felt no awkwardness. Though she sat in the passenger seat, in her mind, He Siyu was still just the driver. Her thoughts were occupied with how to leverage her position in the Nan family.
So far, the only thing she truly possessed was the title of the Nan family's eldest daughter.
The Nan family wanted her to win over the He family to secure benefits for them, but what had the Nan family given her in return? Not a single shred of advantage—yet they still expected her to work for their gain?
Only the benefits that truly ended up in her own hands were real. Otherwise, no matter how prestigious the Nan family might be, what did it have to do with her?
