Lizhu really had no other choice.

He didn’t know that although she looked calm now, along the way Lizhu had broken down crying several times in despair.

It was only when inspiration struck—if she could sneak into the banquet, she could pass the booklet to Pei Zhaoye and have him deliver it—that she saw the dresses of the songstresses and dancers, and once again shed tears while changing clothes.

Where could she even hide it?

A songstress mistook her for a newcomer and comforted her gently:

“We’ve all been through this. Don’t be afraid, serving nobles is still better than serving those filthy rascals loading cargo at the docks.”

After hearing that, Lizhu cried even harder.

But that wasn’t why she cried. She had thought of the wars of her previous life.

When a nation fell, the first to suffer were often not the incompetent nobles or the tyrannical rulers, but the innocent women who had never taken part in state affairs.

In her past life, the Baiyue army had fought its way from the Shrine of the Divine Maiden deep into the Central Plains.

The Baiyue could not restrain their Wuhuan allies. Relying on their strong forces, they plundered, burned, and killed everywhere. At their worst, they even slaughtered three entire cities, and the number of women forced into army brothels reached tens of thousands.

If the collapse of Nanyong could not be stopped, the same misery of the previous life would happen again. Women suffering from the chaos of war would only increase, not lessen.

…Yet she wasn’t even sure if she could survive today’s danger.

Lizhu felt utterly useless.

If the one reborn had been Pei Zhaoye instead, would everything have gone more smoothly?

Wiping away her tears, Lizhu secretly tied the booklet tightly to the inside of her thigh with a ribbon, and followed the group of songstresses all the way into the banquet.

By then she had no room left to think of shame.

Until this moment.

Lizhu realized that if she wanted to hand over the booklet under so many eyes without drawing attention, the only way seemed to be letting Pei Zhaoye reach beneath her skirt to take it.

“You… do you have a small knife?”

The girl’s snowy cheeks were tinged with pink; from embarrassment, her fingers traced a tiny arc in the air.

“I was afraid it might fall on the way, so I tied a dead knot. It would be faster to cut it open with a knife…”

“How could the Pei family allow anyone to bring a blade to the banquet? No.”

Pei Zhaoye licked his lips, his gaze dark.

“Which leg?”

“…Right.”

“It’s hard to untie if you’re lying down. Come over, sit on my lap.”

Lizhu obediently lifted her skirt and sat astride him.

The sound of silk and bamboo was languid and intoxicating. Amidst the clinking of cups and the exchanging of toasts, the songstresses’ melodious tunes and soft laughter intertwined.

The sound of silk-and-bamboo was languid and moving; amid the clinking of cups and the passing of goblets, the songstresses’ winding melodies and cooing laughter mingled.

Pei Zhaoye had grown up in such an environment and loathed this kind of debauchery, these pools of wine and forests of meat; he never imagined he would one day publicly indulge.

…Although in her eyes, perhaps this was a proper matter.

Lizhu felt embarrassed, but at first she did not think much of it.

She even had the leisure to glance toward the foremost figure on the left seat.

That person…

Though shrouded in shadow, at the first sight of his profile Lizhu thought of Tan Xun.

She had seemed to hear someone speak before, and the voice sounded like his.

But Lu Yu said Tan Xun was still in Wan Prefecture yesterday, cooperating with the Tan clan’s plan to feign that the Princess of Qinghe had arrived in Wan Prefecture; if he appeared here tonight, might he also be here to kill her on behalf of the Tans?

No, he probably wouldn’t.

Otherwise, before he died in the previous life he would not have tried to take her away, only to have them both blown up together.

She had known Tan Xun for many years; Lizhu knew his gentleness and benevolence, and also his indecisiveness, how he was often caught between her and the Tan clan.

In hindsight, Lizhu even felt a little guilty.

At that time, he was after all the only one who would still think of coming to save her. Though there had been many grievances when the two were married, it had not been to the extent of wishing him dead.

If this time he also came to save her…

While Lizhu’s emotions were complicated, suddenly her knee was gripped.

“Who are you batting your eyes at?”

A pair of dark, heavy eyes stared at her and asked.

Lizhu: “…I’m not! You are! What are you doing!”

“Wasn’t it you who told me to take out the booklet?”

“……”

All right.

Lizhu’s face flushed; she had nothing to say, and instead half-lay on his shoulder to cover his movements.

How strange.

This secretive furtiveness made it feel as if they were doing something shameful.

But what she was doing was clearly a proper matter.

Lizhu’s head spun, her heart pounding as if it would leap out of her throat.

Seeing he could not pull the booklet out, Pei Zhaoye tried to rip the ribbon apart.

“Before you tear it off, this ribbon will choke my leg first!”

“Who told you to tie it so tight,” he said without even lifting his head.

Loosening his strength, he followed the path of the ribbon’s winding to feel for where the knot was tied.

The fingers resting lightly on his collar curled slightly; a sheen of slick sweat spread across Lizhu’s back.

From her angle, she couldn’t see his eyes but her other senses were crystal clear.

Whenever he exerted force, the muscle beneath her palm would tense unconsciously.

To reach the dead knot she had tied, his arm had to lift the bend of her leg; her toes could no longer touch the ground, and she could only hook her arms around his neck.

The distance was too close; the heavy pressure and his masculine scent wrapped around her inescapably.

Her breath was filled with Pei Zhaoye’s scent, even his body heat invaded the small space between them, swallowing the chill of the autumn night clinging to her skin.

“Is it… is it not done yet?”

Her voice trembled.

Pei Zhaoye glanced at her.

In that single glance, desire pooled dark and thick; if Lizhu had met his eyes at that moment, she would surely have been frightened out of her wits.

“Almost.”

He had already found the knot and was trying to undo it.

Around them, laughter and teasing sounds rose and fell.

In truth, their movements did not stand out much among the banquet crowd—few people paid them special attention.

Even so, the tips of Lizhu’s ears burned red enough to drip blood.

After all, they had been husband and wife for three years.

Although he had not made any improper or discourteous touch—it was merely to retrieve a booklet—Lizhu could not control the flood of memories that surged up… one after another.

“—Got it.”

Lizhu, nearly drowned by her own shame, finally drew a steady breath.

Having held it for so long, her eyes shimmered with moisture; her long lashes were damp as she looked at him.

“The booklet? Where did you hide it?”

Pei Zhaoye’s gaze lingered on her face; he smiled faintly. “In my boot.”

“……” How hateful! Why was it always so easy for men to hide things!

The task she had entrusted to him was done; Pei Zhaoye waited for her to shove him away in anger.

She had once thought he was a collateral branch of the Pei clan; even if she didn’t yet know that he was an illegitimate son born of a songstress, with no known father, from the way the Pei family spoke, she should have guessed his origin.

With her noble status, let alone being touched—even meeting her gaze might be considered a desecration.

He waited for quite a while.

Yet all he saw was her lowering her head and quietly wiping away a tear from her lashes.

His tone softened.

“You can’t even protect yourself, so why would you risk stealing something like this?”

Lizhu sniffled.

“The Pei family is a nest of snakes and rats, filthy to the core. This thing is of grave importance. Whether I can save myself or not, I have to try. Besides… didn’t you tell me to trust you?”

He sounded curious. “Whatever I say, you’ll believe it?”

“……”

If he hadn’t brought that up, it would have been fine—but the moment he did, the fire in Lizhu’s heart flared up again.

“I don’t believe you anymore! Never again! You deceived me at every turn, made a fool out of me—”

Lizhu twisted a handful of flesh from his waist viciously.

Pei Zhaoye’s expression didn’t change. “What did I deceive you about?”

“…You tricked me down the mountain! Because of you, I got caught today!”

“That’s not how it happened. Back on Yushan, if I hadn’t saved you, you’d already have been split open by that man’s men after you gutted him.”

Lizhu: “That’s a different matter! Anyway, you’re full of lies. I’ll never believe a word you say again!”

“Still talking about the future, are you?”

Pei Zhaoye’s eyes glinted darkly, half smiling.

“Princess, our Hongye Stronghold on Yushan isn’t on the same side as you.”

Lizhu was momentarily dazed by that word—Princess—almost unable to tell if this was the past life or the present one.

“…What did you call me?”

She gripped his collar tightly, eyes shining.

“You believe that I’m the Princess of Qinghe?”

A faint fragrance brushed the tip of his nose, and Pei Zhaoye felt his chest tighten.

“You’re that happy? Back at Hongye Stronghold, didn’t you keep your identity tightly hidden?”

“Times have changed.”

Lizhu propped herself up with her knee, as though trying to bolster her own courage.

“Yushan’s Hongye Stronghold is your domain. But outside, within the reach of Nanyong officials’ power, it’s the Shen family’s domain. Even if you know the truth, all you can have for me is greater awe.”

Amid the languid music of silk and bamboo, she smiled—and in that dim chamber, it was suddenly bright as daylight.

“Pei Zhaoye, look. They don’t think much of you either, do they? The way they insult you, it’s so awful…”

“Follow me. From now on, I’ll have your back.”

He knew perfectly well she only said that out of fear that he wouldn’t save her, using a clumsy little trick.

But her fragrant hair brushed against the rise and fall of his throat.

Pei Zhaoye’s lips and tongue went dry, thirst surging uncontrollably.

It was like seeing a spring in the desert—if he could only drink one mouthful, he would be willing to do anything.

His thick, murky gaze shifted away from her lips.

All under heaven knew there were only three things Emperor Mingzhao ever loved.

The first was the late empress, the second was the late empress’s daughter—the Princess of Qinghe—and the last was the elixir of immortality.

The first and last were both illusory, unattainable things.

Only this Princess of Qinghe had been his cherished pearl from birth. For her, he had broken countless laws and rituals, drawing endless reproach.

Pei Zhaoye asked, “What do you think of this banquet?”

Lizhu turned her head slightly, only to see a bare white body clinging to a middle-aged man. With the rhythm of fierce rain and wind, the two tangled together under all eyes; when the woman noticed Lizhu’s glance, her sultry gaze rippled with teasing.

It was shocking.

Lizhu withdrew her eyes, uncomfortable with such a blunt display.

Pei Zhaoye watched her expression, a faint smile curving his lips.

“Today they don’t insult me falsely, it’s the truth. My parents met at one of these obscene banquets. The bastard they bore grew up to eight or nine years old, serving wine and soup at such feasts, a servant, a slave.”

“If I hadn’t turned bandit, I would have rotted in a place like this. But even as the chief of Hongye Stronghold on Yushan, I’m nothing more than a thief. And other than a thief, I’ve never wanted to be anything else.”

The way Pei Zhaoye looked at her now was not the way a man looked at a woman. It was the way a bandit lord looked at the imperial court of Nanyong.

“Princess, I grew up in the Pei household. These power-for-pleasure trades that you find intolerable are everyday sights to me. The officialdom of Nanyong is filthy and decayed beyond measure. I know it a hundred times better than you pampered royals in your bright halls, if you mean to make Hongye Stronghold surrender to the court, I advise you to abandon that thought early.”

Lizhu could never have imagined that such words could come from that face.

She should have let those he once captured during his suppression of bandits and salt smugglers see him now, how shameless he had become.

“…I won’t.”

The long speech Lizhu had prepared in her heart never even began; all she could force out were those two words.

Pei Zhaoye said, “It’s useless for you to say no. Nanyong’s fate is already sealed. Thrones pass from one to another—who knows, maybe next year it’ll be my family’s turn. Princess, you’d best tidy up and come along with me.”

He smiled, not revealing whether he meant it as jest or truth.

“I! Will not!”

Lizhu, still straddling his lap, leaned forward. Their posture so close it could only be called intimate.

Could it all just be a fleeting dream?

“Shen Lizhu, why are you crying again? Why are you crying every single day?”

Pei Zhaoye stopped her hand from reaching for the booklet. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek, voice low, and gently wiped away her tears.

Her sharp, delicate chin rested against his palm.

Such a small head, yet somehow it could hold so many tears.

“None of your business. Give me the booklet.”

Lizhu pushed his hand away, her face set and calm.

“What do you plan to do once you have it?”

“I’ll think of another way. Give it to me.”

“If you could think of a way, you wouldn’t have risked coming to this banquet to find me.”

“That’s still none of your business!”

Lizhu lifted her tear-streaked but stubborn face, meeting his gaze directly and said:

“My husband would never let me be humiliated like this. You are not my husband!”

Pei Zhaoye was struck as if by lightning, frozen like a clay statue where he stood.

After a moment, shadow darkened his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

His voice was edged with shards of ice, cold enough to make one’s heart tremble.

“How many husbands do you have?”

Before Lizhu could answer, her head was suddenly seized and forced downward.

“This way, Young Master Tan, this way please…”

Pei Zhaoye lifted his gaze to see Pei Conglu bowing and scraping as he escorted the Tan family’s young master out.

As they passed by, Pei Conglu sneered coldly at the two pressed so close together.

“A bandit from the hills who’s never seen the world, clinging to a songstress as if she’s worth the effort?”

Pei Zhaoye shot him a cold glance, replying evenly,

“Mm. Hill bandits tend to have stronger desires. Try to understand.”

“……”

Such crude words. Tan Xun, who was putting on his shoes beneath the corridor, looked back at him, then quickly turned away.

“Don’t meddle, Uncle Pei. Lead the way.”

Lizhu didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was behind them, it really was Tan Xun.

“Not good!”

After they left, Lizhu turned sharply. “I was only able to sneak out because one of my maids is also in the Pei residence. She traded places with me, stayed in that room for me. They must be heading there right now—”

Breaking free from his arms, Lizhu tried to run out, but Pei Zhaoye caught her up and lifted her in his arms.

“Don’t rush. I’ll go save her.”

A few of Tan Xun’s attendants turned their eyes toward them from the hall, but Pei Zhaoye’s broad shoulders cast Lizhu entirely in shadow.

He carried her around toward the rear wing.

“I’ll fetch my weapon first, then rescue your two guards. The Pei family’s trained retainers number at least a hundred, and those twenty-some men who came with that young master aren’t weaklings either. Danzhu and the others will need at least an hour before they get here, hide yourself. Don’t let them find you.”

At those words, the heart that had been soaked in tears now brimmed with faint sweetness.

Their quarrel just moments ago was temporarily set aside before the face of danger. Pei Zhaoye set her down in a small courtyard near the wing room and handed her a short sword.

“You—you must be careful too. You must not get hurt, no matter what.”

Lizhu’s eyes shimmered with worry as she grasped his wrist, the veins standing out beneath her fingers.

Lizhu’s eyes were filled with worry as she clasped his wrist, veins standing out beneath her fingers.

Pei Zhaoye fixed his gaze on her.

How quickly she could change her face.

It almost made him want to take a wound on purpose, just to let her pity him a little longer.

“I know.”

“And one more thing—”

Lizhu thought for a moment, then lifted her eyes.

“Actually, I know that Young Master Tan. If I’m not mistaken, he’s here to save me. If you meet him, you mustn’t fight him.”

At present, the Tan clan was still beyond Tan Xun’s control.

The Pei family wouldn’t obey his command to release her, so if Tan Xun came with men tonight, it could only be to force a rescue.

Lizhu didn’t want to owe Tan Xun anything, still less for him to be hurt or lose his life for her sake.

Pei Zhaoye’s deep, unreadable gaze skimmed across her face, and he gave a cold, faint laugh.

“He came to save you? What’s your relationship?”

At this moment, Lizhu didn’t wish to lie to him. Her smile was sincere.

“When I said before that I was escaping a marriage, it wasn’t entirely false. He’s my betrothed. But I’ve already decided to dissolve the engagement. Once it’s broken, we’ll be nothing but ordinary friends. Truly.”

That should make it clear, shouldn’t it?

“…I understand,” Pei Zhaoye said, the corner of his lips curling slightly. “Since he’s your friend, I’ll protect him too.”

Lizhu looked at him with gratitude.

As she watched his departing back, she couldn’t help reflecting.

Were her words earlier… too harsh?

No matter what, ever since her rebirth, he had treated her so, so well.

When all this was over, she would sit down with him—and with Tan Xun—and talk things through properly.

About the surrender. About the broken engagement.

Surely there would be a peaceful way to resolve it all.