Wen Xu then thought to himself — girls change greatly as they grow up. Perhaps his niece’s temperament had simply shifted a little with age.

“Come inside.” Wen Xu smiled. “Yan will be back any moment now — she’ll be so happy to see you.”

The group entered the main hall, and maids immediately brought tea.

Yan Qing had Murong retrieve an exquisite little wooden box and presented it to Wen Xu with both hands. “Wishing Uncle a happy birthday — may you enjoy good fortune, health, and longevity.”

Wen Xu’s face lit up with delight, making no effort to conceal how moved he was.

This niece of his had always been close to him, but she was someone who had never understood worldly customs — the giving of gifts was something she had simply never done before.

He took it with great pleasure and opened it. His expression grew even more joyful.

Inside the box lay a smoking pipe, carved from fine briar wood. The wood’s natural color was warm and even, with clear and graceful grain running through it — unmistakably a piece of the finest quality.

“I also brought Uncle some tobacco leaves, which I’ve already had Tongshun put away.” Yan Qing smiled. “But smoking is bad for your health, Uncle — it would be better to smoke a little less.”

Wen Xu felt a warmth spread through him, and spoke with profound contentment: “Qing Qing, you’ve truly grown up. Back in those days, your mother used to advise me the same way. She knew I couldn’t quit this habit of mine, so she’d urge me to stop smoking with one breath and send me fine tobacco in the next. Ah — in the blink of an eye, it’s been nearly ten years.”

At the mention of the late Wen Wan, both uncle and niece fell quiet, their expressions dimming.

In truth, Yan Qing had come to visit Wen Xu for two reasons — first to celebrate his birthday, and second to find out exactly how her mother had died. As a forensic examiner, professional habit compelled her to trace every cause of death to its root.

“Master Wen, Miss also brought you pastries she made herself.” Perceptive as ever, Jing Zhi quickly brought out the box of sweets, sensing the heavy atmosphere.

Wen Xu was genuinely astonished. “Qing Qing, you’ve learned to make pastries as well?”

In truth, baking was one of Yan Qing’s hobbies. In her previous life she spent most of her time at home, and beyond reading and tending to her fish, baking was her main pastime. She had even taken a baking course at one point, and often brought her finished pastries to the office to share with colleagues, earning herself the nickname “the Little Kitchen Genius.”

One colleague had suggested that if she ever gave up forensics, she could open her own bakery — guaranteed to support a whole family.

Not a bad idea in theory, but if people found out that the pastry chef used to be a forensic examiner, chances were no one would be able to swallow a single bite.

“These are snow-skin mooncakes — I made four different fillings.” Yan Qing smiled. “I also brought a portion for Yan.”

Wen Xu couldn’t wait and immediately picked one up to taste. His expression turned to one of pure amazement. “Our Qing Qing — your skill is truly remarkable.”

While the two were laughing and chatting, a bright, melodious voice drifted in from outside the door — clear and sweet as a bell: “Is that Qing Qing who’s arrived?”

Before Yan Qing could respond, that figure had already thrown its arms around her. “Qing Qing, I’ve missed you terribly.”

The girl had a pair of beautiful eyes like the moon, and skin that rivaled snow. Her curled, wave-cropped short hair lay neatly against her jade-like ears. She wore a pale pink mandarin-collar blouse with a matching A-line skirt, small leather shoes, and white lace-trimmed silk stockings that left a delicate sliver of snow-white leg exposed.

In Yan Qing’s memories, she and Wen Yan had always been very close — and that was largely thanks to Wen Yan’s bright, generous nature and her genuine warmth toward others.

The two cousins sat together talking, while Wen Xu watched his own daughter with considerable helplessness. “The weather today — I’m practically ready for my padded jacket, and here you are with your legs exposed. You’ll freeze to death.”

Though he said it with his mouth, his eyes were full of tender affection.

Yan Qing thought of her father, Yan Patriarch — he and Wen Xu were the same in this way, both men who cherished their daughters dearly.

Wen Xu’s wife had passed away from illness three years ago. The current Madam Wen was his second wife — and quite capable at that. She had become pregnant within less than half a year of entering the household, and the Wen family’s little young master was already nearly two years old.

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