The moon was bright, and the stars were few.

Their gazes met.

The young girl tilted her head to look at him, blinking, her smile curving like a crescent moon.

“Did you forget? When they called me the Mountain Lord’s wife, I never denied it even once.”

Though his identity as a bandit had indeed startled her, and his concealment of many things had made her quite angry.

However, she was only angry — not that she disliked him. If he wanted to marry her, how could she refuse?

Pei Zhaoye: “……”

How did things come to this?

In all her life, she had never met a single man who flirted with her; she couldn’t tell what was taking advantage of her in words, and what was a true proposal of marriage.

“Didn’t you say you were Pei Yinzhi’s fiancée?”

The man with broad shoulders and narrow waist took one step after another toward her.

His gaze was deep, casting a large shadow over Lizhu’s head.

Word by word, slowly, he repeated: “You also said he was your fated match?”

“……”

Lizhu calmly replied: “To tell you the truth, I came to Yiling Commandery just to break off the engagement!”

Pei Zhaoye looked at her, half-smiling, watching her defend herself.

“Truly, I haven’t even met Pei Yinzhi’s face. How could he be my fated match? Compared to that, we met by chance at Yushan. Isn’t that even more like fate’s arrangement?”

Truth mixed with falsehood, Lizhu spoke so earnestly that even she nearly believed herself.

At the side, Chang Jun’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.

Their princess, just to survive under this bandit’s hand, could even say such things.

What suffering indeed.

Pei Zhaoye gave a faint smile, uncertain whether he believed her or not.

But he did not continue to question her.

“Your courtyard has arrived.”

Lizhu turned to glance back. “Then I’ll go back now?”

“These past few days, have you been living comfortably?”

“Quite comfortably,” Lizhu smiled considerately. “I’m not very demanding. It’s fine if it’s simple and rough, this is already very nice.”

“……Heh.”

Simple and rough.

Aside from his own small building, this courtyard was the finest in the entire Hongye Stronghold.

Their figures gradually receded into the distance.

Before long, Gu Bing’an came walking up.

“Mountain Lord, have you decided? Will we still take Miss Shen down the mountain tomorrow?”

Pei Zhaoye looked toward the inner chamber where the lamplight had been lit.

The young girl’s silhouette was cast upon the window, softly diffused and blurred.

Only after a long while did he withdraw his gaze.

Little liar.

To stay alive, she could say anything at all. Not even stopping to think whether her own words made sense.

“Take her? Why wouldn’t I?”

Gu Bing’an showed a surprised expression.

Under the deep-blue moonlit night, Pei Zhaoye turned around and lazily waved his hand.

“Tomorrow, at the third quarter of the hour of chen [around 7:45 a.m.], depart. Remember to hitch up the carriage.”

•—–٠✤٠—–•·

After several nights of frost, the red leaves of Yushan had grown even more vivid, dyeing the stream below in a bright shade of red.

Yet amid the rumbling of the wheels, Lizhu, lifting the curtain to gaze into the distance, fixed her eyes on the vast golden fields of rice farther away.

“…What beautiful rice fields.”

The heavy autumn mist had dispersed, and beneath the clear morning sun, the wind stirred the ripened stalks, setting off wave after wave of golden ripples.

It was the season of harvest.

Pei Zhaoye leaned against the carriage wall, resting with eyes closed, a faint smile tugging at his lips:

“I thought you city folk from Luoyang wouldn’t know the five grains. Didn’t expect you to recognize rice, not bad.”

Lizhu turned to glare at him in dissatisfaction:

“Who are you looking down on— Chang Jun, stop the carriage here, don’t crush the rice plants.”

This area lay to the east of Yushan, separated from Hongye Stronghold by one ridge, with a few scattered villages along the foothills.

Farther east, past the Yu River, lay the city of Yiling Commandery.

Pei Zhaoye had said that if her attendants had any wits about them, they would likely first make inquiries in this area — so it was a good place to start.

“Then, madam, please wait here. I’ll go ask around first.”

Lizhu had already prepared a portrait of Lu Yu. Chang Jun tied the horse, took the wooden board in hand, and went to ask where the village head lived.

“You shouldn’t get down.”

Lizhu raised her hand to his chest, stopping Pei Zhaoye, who was about to follow her out of the carriage.

He arched a brow. “Why?”

Lizhu warned him solemnly: “You’re not wearing your mask. There are many eyes here, don’t let too many people see your face. It’s not safe. Just stay here and wait for us.”

He stared at her for a long while, a strange smile curling at his lips. Lizhu couldn’t tell what he was laughing at.

“Alright, go on then.”

Seeing him sit back down, Lizhu finally felt at ease.

In the future, he was to enter Luoyang as a high official.

Though this was only a poor and remote countryside, it was still close to Hongye Stronghold. If, someday, someone were to dig into the past, they would surely come here seeking witnesses.

For those who knew of his bandit identity, the fewer, the better.

“—Mountain Lord, where did that little lady come from? When I first caught sight of her, heavens above, what a beauty!”

A straw-hatted youth carrying three or five pears passed by along the ridge, stopping beside Pei Zhaoye’s carriage window.

He took a bite of the fresh, juicy pear, eyes still fixed on the girl’s back, not shifting even half an inch.

Pei Zhaoye glanced at him.

“Pretty, is she?”

“What a pointless question, my eyes aren’t blind… hey, hey, I’m blind! Can’t see! Mountain Lord, have mercy!”

Pear juice splattered across the youth’s face. Pei Zhaoye calmly reached into his arms, took another pear, then lifted the curtain and stepped down from the carriage.

The young girl was already lifting her skirts and stepping into the rice field.

She held a rice stalk in her hands, looking it over this way and that, then turned and smiled as she chatted cheerfully with an old woman harvesting nearby.

Pei Zhaoye bit into the pear.

“What are you secretly writing down?”

Lizhu, who had just sat down by the ridge and written a few lines, was startled by the sudden voice behind her.

“Didn’t I tell you not to get off the carriage?” Lizhu glared at him, half-scolding.

“Everyone’s busy with the harvest. Who has time to look at me?”

Pei Zhaoye snatched the wooden tablet from her hand and examined it closely.

Lizhu propped her chin on her hand and smiled. “Can you read the words on it?”

“……”

Pei Zhaoye tossed it back to her with a cold sneer.

“These few characters I can still recognize. Why are you writing this?”

On the tablet were notes about how the local farmers divided their autumn harvest each year — how much they kept to eat, how much was taken as tax, and how much was stored away.

“I… I’m writing it for my father. He’s always concerned about such matters of the state. I’m just noting it casually, so when I return home later, I can have something to talk to him about.”

Pei Zhaoye’s gaze wavered slightly.

What a thorough performance.

Not to mention those born into noble families of rank and luxury — even among declining houses like the Pei clan, there were few who would trouble themselves with matters of the fields.

They only knew how to take to the last coin, and spend as though it were dust.

Her show of sincerity today was nothing more than a way to please him, to draw him in — so that later, she could play on his emotions and find a way to free herself from his grasp…

A breeze passed along the ridge.

A few strands of her loosely tied hair fell, blocking her sight.

Before she could raise her hand to fix them, a hand reached out and gently tucked the strands behind her ear.

The girl lifted her head. When she smiled, a shallow dimple appeared at the corner of her lips.

“Thank you.”

The hand hanging in midair froze.

After a long moment, he slowly withdrew his slightly curled fingers, averting his gaze almost in a fluster.

Lizhu didn’t notice, lowering her head again to continue writing.

“Moreover, though I won’t say how I know, the common folk here are even more prosperous than the farmers outside Luoyang City. I’ve also never heard my fa… father mention that Yiling Commandery had any delay in tax payments. It must be that the prefect allocates well and governs wisely, able to live up both to the people and to the court.”

Pei Zhaoye leaned back with his hands braced behind him, eyes looking straight ahead, a cold smile forming.

The Prefect of Yiling?

What would that fool know about governance? Strip off his official robes and put them on a monkey — three years could pass, and no one would even notice the prefect had been replaced.

Not long after, Chang Jun returned, shaking his head in disappointment.

“The village head has sent someone to ask around, but he said he hasn’t heard of anyone seeing a stranger lately.”

Lizhu couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed as well.

Pei Zhaoye let out a short laugh.

Then he stood up and said, “Don’t lose heart. There are still a few more villages nearby. The village head’s men will need some time to ask around. Let’s eat something in the village first, then in the afternoon, we can go to Xiangcheng near Yushan to inquire further.”

“No.”

Lizhu suddenly grabbed the leather strap on his leg, her voice filled with worry:

“Hongye Stronghold is such a large place. Your face is surely known in the government offices, you can’t appear where there are many people. It’s too dangerous.”

He hadn’t yet gone to study under Xie Ji, nor entered Luoyang to become an official.

The Nanyong court was on the verge of collapse, the people still in suffering — how could he be captured and thrown into prison halfway through his fate?

Pei Zhaoye looked down at her from above, his gaze deep and unreadable.

Even for someone as worldly as he was, for a moment he couldn’t tell whether the worry on her face was real or not.

Last night she had looked the same way, seeming so worried that he might be hurt.

So delicate, so pitiful, head lifted in pleading.

“…You! Why are you looking at me like that again!”

Lizhu suddenly noticed the familiar glint in his eyes. Her cheeks flushed red, and she angrily picked up a small pebble from the ground and threw it at him.

Pei Zhaoye tilted his head to dodge, laughing softly: “What about me? I’m just looking, perfectly normal.”

“What’s normal about that! You clearly—”

“Clearly what?”

Lizhu met his teasing smile with indignation but couldn’t tear apart whatever he had been thinking just now.

All she could do was quicken her steps, heading toward the carriage without looking back.

The young bandit leader followed behind her, smiling.

A villager passing by was about to greet him, but Pei Zhaoye hushed him with a gesture, pointing at the bamboo hat above his head. The villager understood immediately and handed it to him without question.

He didn’t really need any disguise…

But with a hat on, she probably wouldn’t have anything more to complain about.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Pei Zhaoye paused mid-step as he was about to set his foot on the carriage stirrup.

A sharp, cold gaze suddenly swept toward a spot in the rice fields.

An illusion?

Just now, it seemed that someone had been watching from the shadows.

The carriage wheels began to move again.

Only after the rumbling sound faded into the distance did a figure deep within the rice field slowly lift his head.

“Lord Lu, that bandit leader is truly cunning. He actually stays by the princess’s side at all times, colluding with the villagers of Yushan to deceive her completely! What on earth is he trying to do!?”

Lu Yu looked toward that direction, his expression grave.

“Whatever he intends, we must rescue the princess from his hands as soon as possible.”

“How do we rescue her? The defenses around Hongye Stronghold are so tight—outside, villagers report every movement; inside, the mountain terrain and waterways are heavily guarded layer by layer. Even Yiling Commandery is under his control. With such reach and influence, it’s nearly impossible for us to even get close to the princess!”

Over the past few days, they had tried every possible way.

Even the secret letter they sent to Luoyang had been intercepted.

Just as despair was about to set in, Lu Yu spoke:

“With only a few of us, it truly can’t be done. That’s why last night, I sent a letter to Wan Commandery. In this situation, if there is still someone capable of rescuing the princess from the Tan clan’s grasp, it can only be that person.”

The legitimate eldest son of the Tan clan of Wan Commandery, Qinghe Princess’s soon-to-be betrothed.

Tan Xun.