Although Quan Dean had not heard what Qiqi and Hu Xiaotian had discussed, he still gleaned something from the subtle changes in her demeanor. It was still early, yet Qiqi had already ordered all uninvolved palace attendants to leave, keeping only her trusted confidants. Finding an opportunity, he asked her, "What arrangements do you have for tonight, my lady?"
Qiqi put on a listless expression and said languidly, "You're sticking your nose into more and more things."
Quan Dean smiled. "Perhaps your servant is getting old and starting to ramble. I only hope you won't find this old servant tiresome."
Qiqi looked him over and sighed softly. "Old. Yes, old indeed." On the surface, she was speaking of Quan Dean, yet an inexplicable desolation arose within her. She kept feeling that the one gradually growing old was herself. That's not right. I'm not even twenty. How could I feel this way?
Quan Dean thought Qiqi was merely talking about him. With a bitter smile, he said, "It seems you do find me tiresome, my lady. This old servant would like to leave too, but if I did, I fear there would be no one left to protect you sincerely."
Qiqi's nose stung, and she nearly burst into tears. That sour ache reached deep into her heart, becoming an agonizing pain like needles piercing and knives stabbing. Yet she did not let the pain defeat her. She clenched her fists, pressed her alluring cherry lips together stubbornly, and unconsciously straightened her back. Her cold gaze settled on Quan Dean. "Are you mocking me for having no one close to me?"
Quan Dean had not expected Qiqi to misunderstand him. Alarmed, he said, "My lady, that is absolutely not what your servant meant."
Qiqi reached out and caught his arm to stop