“—What? Shao’er’s leg was indeed broken by someone you sent! You bastard!”

Pei Conglu’s hand, pointing at Pei Zhaoye, was trembling slightly.

He turned to look at the Commandant Xu Bi beside the sedan chair, eyes blazing with anger, yet not daring to raise his voice too loudly. Holding back a breath, he scolded:

“Don’t think that just because you’re now some mountain lord you can strut around! You? You’re nothing but a bandit! Our Pei family is a scholarly household, our ancestors once held posts of two-thousand-shi! Two-thousand-shi officials! How many of those have you ever seen in your life?”

Xu Bi glanced at his in-law and waved his hand backward: “Hurry and get her out of the sedan. Lord Pei, put the veil on her—don’t let anyone see.”

Pei Zhaoye turned around, face cold.

A pair of bound hands lifted the curtain. She glared at him, eyes burning with fury, her lower lip bitten so hard it had turned pale.

…Truly angry?

Wasn’t she rather clever before?

Just now, when Pei Conglu had been shouting at her nose, she had shown no reaction. Yet when those shining eyes now glared at him, Pei Zhaoye’s mind went blank for a moment, unsure how to respond.

He licked his lips and reached out, intending to help her down.

“You—”

Pa!

Pei Conglu and Xu Bi were both startled.

Even with her hands tied, the young girl still managed to lift them and strike his left cheek with the back of her hand—neither too light nor too heavy.

Caught completely off guard, Pei Zhaoye’s head tilted aside.

Loose strands of hair fell across his eyes, hiding his expression.

Xu Bi came back to his senses. This mountain lord was too young, reckless in his actions, and vengeful at the slightest offense. Fearing that Pei Zhaoye might act rashly, he quickly said:

“What are you standing there for! Hurry and escort Madam inside!”

Several guards immediately stepped forward to support Lizhu and led her in.

Seeing this, Pei Conglu’s anger began to fade, replaced by laughter: “A lowborn wretch will always be a lowborn wretch, how dare you touch a noble lady—”

Before he could finish, the girl passing by him suddenly lunged at Pei Conglu without warning, her ten fingers clawing straight for his eyes!

Xu Bi cried out in shock: “Stop her!”

Three bloody scratches instantly appeared beneath Pei Conglu’s eyes. The pampered middle-aged man screamed in pain.

“You’re the lowborn wretch! Go to hell!”

Lizhu, being restrained by the guards, wore a fierce expression; her slender fingers were still stained with blood.

Chaos broke out at the entrance, like chickens and dogs flying everywhere.

Pei Zhaoye watched for a while, then raised a hand to touch the spot where Lizhu had slapped him.

What was a soft little slap to him?

Pei Conglu nearly had his eyes gouged out.

Toward him, she was still… different.

•—–٠✤٠—–•·

Lizhu was locked inside a small room in the rear courtyard.

There were guards posted on all sides outside; forcing her way out was utterly impossible.

Lizhu looked around the room, then fell back onto the small couch in frustration. The events of the night flashed rapidly through her mind.

He deceived her.

All of it had been a lie.

The kind and harmonious Pei family was fake; his frail and harmless demeanor was fake. In her previous life, she had been a dignified princess of the realm, yet she had been toyed with completely by a mere little bandit!

How insolent of him!

Lizhu was so angry she couldn’t stay lying down, she wanted nothing more than to drag Pei Zhaoye over and give him a good beating.

“Who goes there—!”

Suddenly, voices sounded from outside the door. Lizhu focused her attention and listened carefully.

“The lord sent me to deliver some food and drink for the noble lady inside.”

“…Which courtyard are you from? You look unfamiliar.”

“A few days ago, the madam bought me from the slave market to instruct the ladies of the household in manners. What, are you outer-courtyard men now familiar with every maid of the inner court?”

“Wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dare.”

The door creaked open. Lizhu stared in astonishment at the woman who appeared before her.

“Xuan… Ying? Xuan Ying!”

As soon as the door closed, Lizhu threw herself into the female official’s arms, her voice thick with suppressed sobs.

“Xuan Ying! I thought I would never see you again, how are you here!?”

Xuan Ying’s eyes grew moist at the sound of her name being called again and again.

Setting down the food box, Xuan Ying gently held Lizhu’s face and examined her carefully. After a brief exchange, she was finally relieved to learn that Lizhu had fallen into the hands of the Hongye Stronghold without suffering any humiliation.

Wiping Lizhu’s face, Xuan Ying said,

“It’s a long story. I first heard some rumors among the common women in the market. I suspected that the people who intercepted us and the letter I sent to Luoyang were from the Pei residence. So I sneaked in, wanting to uncover who was behind it all, so that one day I could report the truth to His Majesty.”

“But tonight, I heard news that the manor was expecting an honored guest. Yet instead of preparing a fine chamber, they had the entire household’s servants surround the courtyard. I guessed it must be related to the Princess and took the risk to come—and indeed, I was right.”

She untied the rope around Lizhu’s wrists, then scolded,

“Lord Lu said he was one of the best hands in the Imperial Guards, how could he go out with his men and come back trussed up like pigs? And Commander Chang Jun too, he must’ve been slacking off in training!”

Lizhu said angrily, “It’s not their fault! It’s all Pei Zhaoye’s, he’s too good at pretending!”

“Pei Zhaoye?”

Xuan Ying was startled. She vaguely recalled hearing that name somewhere in the Pei household.

Then it came to her.

“Before the commotion began, I overheard Madam Pei and the Second Madam talking behind closed doors. They said—‘That bastard left behind by Han Chu has returned,’ and ‘That child who killed a man at fourteen and fled the manor to become a wandering swordsman.’ Princess, the Pei Zhaoye you speak of—is he that person?”

Lizhu froze for a moment.

“They… what else did they say?”

Xuan Ying: “Nothing of real importance. Just things like—‘Does he even know who his father is?’ ‘Even if he does, so what? A bastard born of a songstress, who would acknowledge him?’—that sort of talk.”

…So that was how it was.

Lizhu recalled how, when she had first arrived at Hongye Stronghold, she had guessed that Pei Zhaoye might be some unacknowledged branch member of the Pei family.

When he’d heard her guess, he had only smiled, neither confirming nor denying.

So in truth, he wasn’t even from a side branch—he was the son of a songstress in the household.

Was that why he lied about everything, why he concealed his identity at every turn?

“Princess, that’s not even the most important thing!”

Xuan Ying glanced toward the door and said solemnly:

“Do you know why the Pei family became involved in this matter at all?”

Lizhu shook her head blankly.

“Madam Pei chose me at the slave market because I told them I had once served in a noble house in Luoyang. They wanted me to come teach proper manners to the young ladies of the household, but not to their own daughters. The pupils were a group of little girls, eight or nine years old, all bought from outside.”

Lizhu’s brows drew together.

Her intuition told her that this was something very, very bad—but she could not yet see exactly what was wrong.

“My Princess, do you still not understand?”

Xuan Ying grasped Lizhu’s cold hand, her eyes full of disgust as she glanced behind her.

“The Pei family may have land and houses, but they’re still a common-born clan with no titles or offices. Yet they keep troupe after troupe of songstresses, dancers, and performers—do you think it’s merely for their own pleasure? From what I’ve observed these days, countless officials come and go from the Pei residence, holding banquets there, using the place for secret bribery and indulgence—”

So that was why the Pei family had captured her for the Tan clan.

Because the Pei family was already helping those high-ranking officials do the dirty work they couldn’t show the light of day.

Lizhu felt her mind go blank and white.

In the midst of their conversation, through the stillness of the night, faint sounds of flutes and strings drifted over.

Someone in the manor was hosting a feast.

Was it to celebrate capturing her, together with the people sent by the Tan clan?

If so, the household guards might not be quite so watchful tonight.

“…Xuan Ying.”

Lizhu suddenly made up her mind.

“There’s something I must do. I’m afraid you’ll have to exchange clothes with me.”

Xuan Ying’s eyes flew wide open.

•—–٠✤٠—–•·

Nine-branched lamps crackled and burned.

Musicians in the corner played their instruments, and between two rows of banquet tables, dancers in trailing skirts moved gracefully, their sleeves swirling like mist.

At the head seat, the eldest of the Pei family, Pei Conglu, still bore visible scratches on his face. Lifting a cup, he toasted the young gentleman seated to his left:

“…The official Master Qi, whom the Tan family sent, must still be in Yiling. We’re not sure why he hasn’t contacted us yet. But rest assured, young master—once the matter concerning this lady is resolved, we’ll certainly send people to find Master Qi and escort him safely back to Wan Commandery…”

At the end of the table, Pei Zhaoye slowly picked up his chopsticks and selected some dishes.

The brick and mud at the back door of that tavern had long since dried.

If one wished to dig up the Master Qi buried beneath it, that might prove rather difficult.

The young gentleman carried himself with composed elegance, lowering his head slightly.

“Many thanks, Uncle Pei.”

“Young master is too polite. But, are you truly the youngest son of Master Tan Mingshi? I’ve traveled often between here and Wan Commandery, and I don’t recall ever—”

“Where are you holding the lady now?”

The young man’s tone was warm, yet carried the unyielding weight of one accustomed to authority.

Pei Conglu glanced toward his younger brother, Pei Congxun.

It was clear the second brother was the true decision-maker of the Pei family. He smiled and said:

“That lady’s identity is not an ordinary one. How could we treat her as a prisoner? Naturally, she is being properly looked after in the rear courtyard. If young master wishes to see her, he may do so after the banquet.”

The young man quietly exhaled in relief.

Indeed—the person before them was not the supposed “youngest son of Tan Mingshi,” but the legitimate eldest son of the Tan clan head, Tan Jing—his name, Tan Xun.

It had already been three days since he received Lizhu’s letter of distress.

He should have ridden out for Wan Commandery immediately that day, but his second uncle had detained him at home, delaying him for two days. Only today had he managed to slip away.

Rushing urgently to Xiangcheng, he thought he had arrived too late.

Fortunately, for some unknown reason, Master Qi—whom his second uncle had sent here—had vanished. Thus Tan Xun was able to seize the opportunity, posing as a junior clansman sent on his uncle’s behalf to meddle in this affair.

Even now, Tan Xun could not be sure whether Lizhu’s attempted assassination had anything to do with his family.

At that thought, unease churned within him. He was deeply conflicted.

He could only hope his uncles merely wanted to find Lizhu in secret, and harbored no sinister intentions toward her.

Tan Xun said, “…I do not know who it was that discovered the whereabouts of our lady. I ought to offer him a toast to express my thanks…”

“No need for that, young master—merely a servant of our household.”

Pei Conglu waved his hand dismissively, his face flushed from drinking with Tan Xun’s attendants.

“With your noble status, such a man isn’t even worthy to carry your shoes. How could you toast him? Where are the songstresses? Hurry, bring them in to perform for Young Master Tan!”

Tan Xun’s brows creased slightly.

He had never been fond of such filthy revelry. All he wanted was for this feast to end quickly, so he could see Lizhu and take her away from this nest of trouble.

Pei Zhaoye, on the other hand, lifted his gaze calmly like the others, looking toward the door.

The songstresses entered in single file, clad in gauzy pink silk.

Outside, beneath the deep indigo sky, the moon shone bright and round.

Pei Zhaoye thought, I wonder if that delicate lady is sitting alone in her room right now, crying… wait.

His gaze froze on the small, slender figure at the very end of the line.

Unlike the other graceful and composed songstresses, she was clearly unaccustomed to such thin silk garments—walking with her shoulders hunched, shrinking in on herself, as if she were begging everyone to see that she was an impostor.

“Young Master Tan, the songstresses of our Pei family are quite famous even in Hezhou. If you would care to—”

Before Pei Conglu could finish speaking, the man at the end of the table suddenly rose and pulled the last songstress straight into his arms.

“Pei Zhaoye!” Pei Conglu barked in anger. “Young Master Tan has not spoken yet, what are you in such a rush for!”

At the head of the table, Pei Congxun’s face darkened as well.

If not for the fact that this bastard now ruled over Yushan as its bandit lord—with power in his hands and a fortune amassed through the smuggling of salt—how could they possibly have allowed such a low-born scoundrel to sit among their guests?

Buried in Pei Zhaoye’s embrace, Lizhu’s heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it would leap from her throat.

After a moment, she felt the chest against her vibrate slightly as the man laughed.

“My apologies, my apologies—a crude man from the countryside has never seen such beauty before. Surely the young master of the Tan family, surrounded as he is by countless lovely ladies, wouldn’t miss just one more, would he?”

Pei Conglu snapped, “Whether he would or not is not for you to decide—”

“It’s fine.” The elegant young man interrupted, his tone faintly impatient. “No need to quarrel over a single songstress. Do as you please.”

The sound of flutes and strings quickly drowned out Pei Conglu’s muttered curses.

The man seated beside Pei Zhaoye couldn’t help glancing sideways.

In the flickering candlelight, he saw only the faint glow of fair skin, red lips slightly parted, the girl in the man’s arms as delicate as a fledgling bird. But before he could see her face clearly, the man’s long arm tightened around her, drawing her completely into his embrace.

“…Explain yourself?”

Pei Zhaoye lowered his lashes.

Lizhu, pulled roughly into his lap, found the position extremely uncomfortable. Yet she didn’t dare sit upright and expose her face, even though she still wore a thin veil.

She could only shift slightly to adjust herself, then raised her eyes and said quietly:

“I found something in the Pei residence’s study.”

Pei Zhaoye’s arm supported her waist, keeping her from pressing her weight onto him. His response was a nonchalant “Mm.”

“How did you get out?”

“Don’t worry about it. I have my own ways, don’t underestimate me.”

Lizhu still hadn’t forgiven him. Her tone remained cool and concise as she said,

“There’s a record—of every official who dealt with the Pei family, their private scandals, the amounts they took in bribes. The Pei household kept everything in writing! Unfortunately, time was short. I only managed to steal one ledger, and I was almost caught.”

As she spoke, Lizhu subtly peeked around.

She saw that the other dancers and songstresses were leaning close to their guests—feeding them wine, offering fruit. So she imitated them, grabbed a piece of fruit at random, and stuffed it into his mouth.

“These corrupt officials must be exposed and have their estates confiscated, none of them can be allowed to poison the peace and stability of Nanyong!”

She shoved in another piece.

“Once it’s served its purpose, this book mustn’t remain. I skimmed through it, there are even private matters about officials unrelated to the Pei family. If anyone were to use these secrets as leverage, even good men might become their puppets!”

The silk of her gown was far too thin; the tip of her nose had turned red from the chill.

But it wasn’t only her nose that was flushed.

There were her snow-white shoulders, the gentle rise and fall of her collarbones.

The silk wrapped around her chest was embroidered with a pale pink peony; with each breath she took, the flower seemed to open and close, blooming and folding again—tempting, as though waiting to be plucked.

Pei Zhaoye had once never understood why scholars described the feeling of holding a beauty in one’s arms as warm fragrance and soft jade.

Now he finally knew, reading books did have its uses, after all.

Lizhu only felt cold.

It was already the time of the autumn equinox, yet this gauze dress was thinner than summer wear. She had stolen the ledger in a panic, trembling with fear, her hands and feet still icy.

Now, finding even a trace of warmth, she couldn’t help clinging tightly to it.

In that narrow, all-too-familiar embrace, she lifted her head and said:

“But I can’t get out right now. My life might not even be safe. I’ll only feel at ease if I entrust the ledger to you.”

Something within him stirred.

The blood that had been frozen by her earlier words began to flow once again.

Pei Zhaoye caught her hand as she tried to feed him another piece of fruit. His lips moved slightly.

“First of all, stop feeding me. That fruit’s rotten.”

“And secondly—dressed like this, where exactly did you hide the ledger?”

Lizhu blinked.

“Of course, it’s on me. It’s just… inconvenient to take it out right now.”

His dark eyes swept over her from head to toe, his hand already reaching around to her lower back.

But Lizhu shook her head, her expression suddenly turning flustered and shy. One hand climbed up to his shoulder, and near his ear, she whispered softly, each word bitten out delicately—

“Not there.”

“It’s… inside my skirt.”