While Lizhu and the others were feasting upstairs, Chang Jun chose an inconspicuous corner and opened another table with Lu Yu.

“…What? Over in Wan Commandery they’re actually claiming that the Princess arrived safely, without any sign of abnormality?”

Chang Jun stared at Lu Yu in disbelief.

Lu Yu spoke to him while keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

“That’s right. I just used the excuse of buying wine at the counter to chat idly with the accountant and asked about it. He told me clearly—the exact time they arrived at the ferry, where they’re lodging, that the eldest young master of the Tan family accompanied her on the trip—everything. The news should be known to everyone in Wan Commandery.”

Chang Jun pondered.

“The Princess said the mastermind behind it all wanted to pin the crime of the assassination attempt on Hongye Fort. If the Tan clan were involved, they ought to be loudly proclaiming that the Princess was attacked and has gone missing, to clear themselves of suspicion.”

He lifted his head, a trace of hope in his gaze.

“Could it be that this matter has nothing to do with Empress Tan and the Tan clan?”

“On the contrary.”

Lu Yu denied it darkly.

He said, “Think about it. Once word spreads that the Princess was attacked, she would only need to reveal her identity publicly—who would dare conceal it? They would have to respectfully escort her to the authorities. But now, the Tan clan claims the Princess is in Wan Commandery touring with their eldest young master—”

“They’re cutting off the Princess’s path to seek help!”

Chang Jun’s heart gave a jolt, and he suddenly understood.

“But if something truly happens to the Princess, then outwardly, wouldn’t that mean the incident occurred in Wan Commandery? Wouldn’t they be held responsible?”

After a moment’s contemplation, Lu Yu said, “What if the Tan clan is announcing publicly that the Princess arrived safely, while secretly sending word to Luoyang that she went missing in Yiling Commandery and they’re ‘doing everything they can to search for her’? That way, wouldn’t they be able to wash their hands of it?”

At this point, it wasn’t difficult to guess who was behind the scenes.

Who else had the power to arrange an assassination on the imperial ship, to get the Tan clan to cooperate, and to keep Yiling Commandery sealed so tightly that not even a letter could reach Luoyang—

Only Empress Tan.

If their speculation was correct, and the Governor of Yiling and the Tan clan of Wan Commandery had joined hands to weave a net of heaven and earth, then even with an imperial tally, he would be unable to mobilize troops.

With just the few of them, how could they possibly escort the Princess safely back to Luoyang?

Inside the tavern, the sound of flutes and pipes wove softly through the air, mingling with laughter and the clinking of cups.

The two faced each other in silence, tacit understanding between them, yet both their hearts were caught in the same storm of dread.

Chang Jun forced a smile. “Didn’t Lord Lu say you sent someone to request aid from the Tan family’s eldest young master?”

That was supposed to be their Princess’s future consort!

Lu Yu replied, “The letter was sent, but there’s been no reply. If, as the rumors say, the Tan family’s eldest young master is also helping cover things up for them, then that letter is likely lost to the sea.”

“……”

Chang Jun still refused to give up and said, “The Hongye Fort’s chieftain—though you said he isn’t exactly innocent—since we entered the city, everything’s been calm. If he truly colluded with the Tan clan, why didn’t he hand over the Princess when we came in? The whole day he’s been taking the Princess sightseeing, eating and drinking well—”

“This might sound unlucky, but… before a prisoner in the Imperial Prison is beheaded, he’s also given a fine last meal…”

“Lord Lu! If you know it’s unlucky, then don’t say it!”

Lu Yu shut his mouth.

Chang Jun had already turned pale from all his analysis, yet deep down, he still refused to imagine things could be that bad.

He recalled the scenes from the days they spent in Hongye Fort.

Actually, that bandit chief had treated their Princess quite well?

A beauty like the Princess had fallen into his hands, yet he restrained himself and did not act recklessly.

To have such self-control and integrity—even if he had turned to banditry—there must be hidden reasons behind it. How could someone like that possibly use the Princess to curry favor with officials…

“Ah—Lord Zhao, Deputy Magistrate Zhao! What a rare honor to have you visit our humble shop today! Why didn’t you send word ahead of time, so the kitchen could prepare fresh ingredients—”

The waiter greeted a group of seven or eight people with excessive enthusiasm as they entered.

Hearing that officials had arrived, both Chang Jun and Lu Yu immediately bowed their heads, not daring to utter a single word for fear of drawing attention.

The man called Deputy Magistrate Zhao had a large belly and short legs, looking like a fat-headed fish.

Surrounded by attendants, he slowly made his way upstairs.

“No need to make a fuss. The government office has been busy these days; I just found a moment to relax and gather… Oh? Business here seems good, there’s not even an empty private room upstairs?”

The waiter broke into a sweat at once, lowering his voice.

“That upper room is occupied by the master of Hongye Fort. Since he came, of course he must be seated in the finest private room. You see, this—”

“So it’s Fort Master Pei,” the fat-headed man’s tone softened at once. “Naturally, he deserves that seat. Fine then, I’ll go say hello.”

“Ah, Lord Zhao, most unfortunate—today that master specifically ordered that no one be allowed to disturb him, truly…”

“He does put on quite the airs. Forget it then; we’ll dine by ourselves.”

The waiter beamed at once, smiling as he led them to another private room.

Following behind the fat-headed official, a few minor clerks whispered to each other:

“Who’s this ‘Fort Master’? To make even Lord Deputy Magistrate show such respect, what great influence he must have!”

“Anyone connected with salt, how could they not have influence?”

“Keep your voice down. We’re petty officials; such matters aren’t for us to ask about.”

Their voices dropped as they continued up the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs, the two who had overheard everything exchanged glances.

A Deputy Magistrate—an assistant to the Governor himself—showing deference to a bandit involved in the salt trade, even taking the initiative to greet him.

Just what kind of rotten, pitch-black place was this Yiling Commandery?

Chang Jun almost saw darkness before his eyes.

After a moment, he raised his cup and said to Lu Yu: “Having worked together, Lord Lu, there’s nothing more to say. If fate allows, in our next lives, may we be colleagues again.”

“……”

Lu Yu silently clinked his cup.

Chang Jun rose, his mood heavy with tragic resolve, and walked upstairs.

Not too far away, a man and a woman sat facing each other. From a distance, they looked like a young couple—well-matched and affectionate.

A good person by nature, why become a bandit!

Who could have thought that such a fine, handsome youth barely past his coming of age would dare to engage in dealings punishable by the extermination of one’s entire clan!

Chang Jun could hardly restrain himself from immediately telling Lizhu this news.

But just as he stepped inside, he saw his Princess smiling as she asked that salt smuggler:

“—Since you’re acquainted with the shopkeeper here, when we leave later, may I go to the accounting room to ask about the salt price in this area? And which salt merchant supplies it?”

Hearing this, Chang Jun felt every hair on his body stand on end.

Princess! That’s not something you should be asking!

Pei Zhaoye’s hand, holding the bamboo chopsticks, paused briefly. He answered naturally,

“Is that also something your father usually takes interest in?”

Lizhu thought to herself, that wasn’t wrong—whenever her imperial father lacked money for his alchemy and Daoist pursuits, he indeed took great interest in salt prices.

“I once heard that since the year before last, to cover the Emperor’s expenses, the salt merchants of various regions have all raised the salt tax—by twenty percent at the least, thirty at the most. Some poor commoners can no longer afford salt and go without it the entire year.”

Lizhu said seriously, “The salt used so lavishly in this tavern must mean not only that the local people are wealthy, but that it’s also related to the salt merchants. I wonder how he balances the silver tax remitted to the national treasury and the salt price in the shops…”

Pei Zhaoye had intended to brush the topic aside.

But since he had already made up his mind to keep this young lady with him, she would inevitably learn what Hongye Fort was involved in sooner or later.

Pei Zhaoye decided to sound out her attitude and spoke bluntly.

“He can balance a damn egg.” Pei Zhaoye smiled. “That dog emperor has raised the salt tax twice in three years, no heavenly king could balance that.”

Lizhu slammed the table in fury. “…You!”

He dared to call her father a dog!

Chang Jun also grew enraged—so the man truly was treacherous at heart, daring to show such disrespect toward His Majesty!

“What?”

Pei Zhaoye looked at the two of them with slight confusion, raising his brows.

“So angry, do you have personal ties with the Emperor?”

“…No,” Lizhu couldn’t reveal her identity, so she only said, “Go on, but you’re not allowed to use coarse language.”

Pei Zhaoye gave her a meaningful glance and continued:

“The government buys salt from salt households at only ten copper coins per dou¹ Dou: an ancient Chinese unit of volume used for measuring grains, liquids, or other commodities. The exact capacity varied across dynasties and regions, but during most imperial periods it was roughly equivalent to 10 liters (about 2.6 U.S. gallons). It was commonly used in trade and taxation for goods like rice, grain, and salt., but once it’s in the salt merchants’ hands, it sells for three hundred coins. By the time it reaches the salt shops and is sold to the people, it’s six hundred coins. How much can an ordinary farmer earn

after a year’s toil? How many can afford the government’s salt? Hezhou has convenient waterways and salt ponds at its disposal…”

Salt and iron were the backbone of military funding. In her previous life, the fall of Nanyong to Beiyue was in part because of the lack of military funds.

Almost instantly, Lizhu’s mind was flooded with the images of the mountains of corpses and seas of blood from that life. The allied forces of Beiyue and Wuhuan, to replenish their provisions and pay, slaughtered three cities on their march into Luoyang—

From nobles to commoners, none were spared.

The horror of the massacres loomed over her like a massive dark cloud. The mere thought made Lizhu tremble all over, her scalp numb.

“Who—”

Lizhu’s expression sank; her gaze turned sharp.

“Who dares to smuggle private salt! Does he not care for the lives of his nine clans!”

Yet at her words, Chang Jun beside her felt a thunderous ringing in his head, almost fainting on the spot.

It’s over.

Completely over.

Even if this bandit chief had no intent to harm the Princess before, after hearing what she just said—her chances of survival were slim.

In the private room next door—

The group had just sat down, drinking and chatting leisurely.

They were speaking of how, at the request of the Governor of Wan Commandery, the local authorities were searching the entire city for a highborn young lady who had fled her marriage and escaped to Yiling Commandery.

Suddenly, from the next room came the words “doesn’t he care for his nine clans” and “smuggling private salt.”

The private room instantly fell silent.

Interesting—who had such nerve, to scold someone for smuggling salt right in front of a group of salt traffickers?

“Ma—Madam, are you drunk…”

Chang Jun’s voice trembled as he tried to stop her.

But Lizhu, still fuming, was in no mood to notice his warning.

“I didn’t even drink, how could I be drunk? I’m angry!”

“So angry,” Pei Zhaoye poured himself a cup of wine, “do you really hate salt smugglers that much?”

She tilted her head slightly and asked, “And you don’t hate them? Is it because they let the common folk afford salt?”

Pei Zhaoye gazed quietly at the firelight flickering in her eyes.

“If a torrential flood were to strike from the borders,” he said slowly, “the soldiers defending those borders for Nanyong would be its first levee. Even if officials line their pockets, even if the emperor squanders wealth and the people suffer under salt prices, we must still give everything to hold that levee. That’s a bottom line with no room for debate.”

After saying this, Lizhu suddenly felt powerless.

What use was it?

Though her father favored her, he was lost in his Daoist obsessions and ignored her remonstrations; officials exploited the people layer upon layer, generals embezzled military funds—she had no authority to dismiss or appoint them. All she could do was watch as they corrupted the empire.

Other than this anger, she had nothing.

No one would ever listen to her words.

After a while, she heard Pei Zhaoye say, “…What if it were me?”

Lizhu froze for a moment, not quite understanding him.

“What?”

“I said,” he leaned closer, their faces only an inch apart, his dark eyes deep and fathomless, “if I too were audacious enough to smuggle salt, what would you do?”

Kneeling in the shadows, Chang Jun’s five fingers had already tightened around his sword hilt.

Lizhu blinked, her long lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, the man’s sharp and handsome features reflected clearly in her eyes.

She couldn’t imagine him involved in something like that.

But she knew—he was the kind of man who, even knowing the treasury was empty and supplies were scarce, would still charge into battle.

He dared to stand alone in the court surrounded by wolves, boldly striking at the interests of powerful clans and eunuchs.

Even at the very end of his life, he would die on the road to reclaiming the eleven northern prefectures, rather than kneel to the enemy like those pampered nobles and high officials.

A man’s tongue could lie.

But his heart would not, and neither would the deeds he had done.

Under the candlelight, her delicate face—bright as morning dew—softly bloomed into a smile.

“You’re not like them. You’re not a bad person. You’re a great hero.”

Author’s note:

The issue of private salt trade is much like Emperor Wu of Han’s campaign against the Xiongnu, which required state monopolies on salt and iron; or Huo Qubing’s feat of sealing the wolf at Ju Xu; or Tan Shi Huang’s construction of the Great Wall — all, to some extent, had to be built upon the suffering and exploitation of the common people.

That’s why it’s said, “When the empire rises, the people suffer; when the empire falls, the people suffer.”

If Lizhu were only a princess, I would have written her as distributing porridge to the disaster-stricken, finding ways to make sure everyone could afford salt — graceful and kind, which would be fine.

But if she’s not merely a princess, then I can’t write her that way. Whatever those kings who won foreign wars would do, she would do the same. Whether her actions appear graceful or kind no longer matters. Her only duty is to see the matter through ❤️

Footnotes

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  Dou: an ancient Chinese unit of volume used for measuring grains, liquids, or other commodities. The exact capacity varied across dynasties and regions, but during most imperial periods it was roughly equivalent to 10 liters (about 2.6 U.S. gallons). It was commonly used in trade and taxation for goods like rice, grain, and salt.