“Just like this…?”

His sharp, blade-like brows and eyes were soaked in moonlight. He let out a short laugh, a glint of excitement flickering within his gaze, like a hunter poised before the strike.

“What else do you want? Say it.”

The little confidence Lizhu still had retreated step by step under his fiercely aggressive gaze.

Because she suddenly recalled her previous life.

In her previous life, two days after she and Pei Zhaoye had just married, relying on the experience of having been married once before, Lizhu could still barely hold the upper hand.

But after merely a few days, this man advanced by leaps and bounds, improving at a lightning pace.

Smiling faintly, he ground down and swallowed every bit of her previous composure.

Her eyes brushed lightly over the silver ring on the tip of his tongue.

In her past life, even after he later restrained his temper, he would still occasionally make her afraid.

Now he didn’t even bother to pretend, who knew how unrestrained he would be in that sort of matter…

Better not provoke him.

“Nothing, someone’s coming, shh—”

Lizhu tugged at his robe, pressing close against the roof tiles, making herself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

From Pei Zhaoye’s angle, however, he happened to see a tuft of soft hair scattered down the back of her neck—delicate as mutton-fat jade, dazzlingly white.

…He wondered if biting into it would taste the same as the honey cakes she loved so much.

Inside the yamen, torches were lit one after another, footsteps growing dense.

First the lower clerks began bustling about, awakening the government office that had already closed for the day.

Soon, sedan chairs landed outside the yamen.

By the clerks’ torchlight, Lizhu barely managed to recognize the faces—among them were familiar ones.

For instance, Zhao Weizhen, the assistant prefect she had met that day at the restaurant, and Xu Bi, the commandant who had escorted her to the Pei residence.

Nine-branched candles illuminated the inner chamber, their light filtering through the gaps between the tiles.

Lizhu quietly listened to the conversation inside.

“…The news from the Pei residence says as much. Gentlemen, if you have any countermeasures, feel free to speak.”

After Zhang Changshi finished, the room was silent—no one spoke.

After a long time, Zhao Weizhen’s muttering voice finally broke the stillness:

“The Tan family is utterly mad, daring to deceive us, making us aid the wicked and plot against the Princess!”

So what that young lady said that day, was actually true!

A chill of goosebumps spread across Zhao Weizhen’s back.

Who didn’t know that the present Emperor had only two children under his knee—among them, the Princess of Qinghe was the one he favored most, even the Empress Tan’s young son could not compare.

A pity she wasn’t a boy, otherwise what business would there still be for the Tan clan’s child?

If the Princess returned safely to Luoyang and lodged a complaint before Emperor Mingzhao, wouldn’t that mean they…

Zhao Weizhen looked toward Commandant Xu Bi, his tense body relaxing slightly.

“Actually, in this matter, Commandant Xu was kept in the dark as well.”

Everyone turned to Xu Bi, and suddenly remembered that the Princess of Qinghe had been personally escorted to the Pei residence by him that very day.

Zhao Weizhen said, “Tomorrow, Commandant Xu, why don’t you go to the Pei family to present yourself for punishment? The Princess is only sixteen—seeing your advanced age, perhaps her heart may soften, and she’ll give you only a light reprimand, pardoning you of guilt.”

So they wanted him to take the blame.

Xu Bi’s expression remained calm as he took a sip of tea.

“Assistant Prefect Zhao, the two beautiful maids from your own residence who once served at the Pei residence should know the way there better than I. It would be more fitting for you to go.”

Zhao Weizhen’s smile froze for a moment, then he turned his head away.

“Among those present, how many have not been to the Pei residence? How many have not enjoyed the Pei family’s dancing girls and songstresses? Are you trying to drag us all down with you? Now the Captain of the Imperial Guards has gone with his men to rescue the Princess of Qinghe from the Pei residence, and you, Commandant Xu, who are responsible for the entire city defense of Yiling Commandery—how is it you heard not a whisper of it? Could it be… you’ve secured yourself a bright future and kept it secret from your colleagues?”

At those words, Xu Bi’s expression finally changed.

At the head of the room, an elderly man with graying hair and beard—around sixty years old—finally opened his eyes.

“Lord Xu, this matter indeed requires an explanation. Why did the Captain of the Imperial Guards lead his troops into Xiangcheng while we knew nothing of it?”

Xu Bi hesitated for a moment, then said, “It’s impossible that there were a hundred Imperial Guards in the Pei residence.”

On the roof, Lizhu smiled faintly, tapping her cheek with her fingers.

Zhao Weizhen said, “This report came from a servant who escaped from the Pei residence. The facts are plain before us—aside from the Imperial Guards, who else could have rescued the Princess of Qinghe from the Pei family? The Pei household’s men are not common servants.”

There was also Hongye Stronghold.

A suspicion rose in Xu Bi’s mind.

That day, he had left after handing the person over to the Pei brothers, but Pei Zhaoye had not gone.

If anyone could have rescued the Princess of Qinghe from the Pei household’s hands, it would only be him—he had the ability.

Zhao Weizhen said, “It’s too late to say anything now. The Pei residence is already under the control of the Imperial Guards. If, as that servant claimed, there truly exists some secret register, then both witness and evidence are there—we won’t be able to escape.”

Zhao Weizhen looked toward the elder at the head of the room.

“My Lord Prefect, why don’t you make the decision?”

All the officials turned toward Cui Shiyong, the Prefect of Yiling.

He too swept his gaze across the room of restless, uneasy officials.

All of them had been guests at the Pei family’s banquets, and who knew how many sordid dealings they had made behind closed doors.

Now that the Pei brothers were in the Princess’s hands, they were naturally as anxious as ants on a hot pan.

Cui Shiyong’s gaze fell upon Xu Bi, cold and grim:b“Lord Xu, the Commandant is appointed by the court; ordinarily you are not under my command, but now, which side do you intend to stand on?”

Xu Bi sprang to his feet: “Cui Shiyong! That is the Princess, are you mad! The Tan family’s schemes failed, and you want to wade into this muddy water? These people are about to meet death and want to find a way out; you have no involvement with the Pei family, what do you seek!”

Cui Shiyong said nothing.

Lizhu was momentarily stunned by these words.

That afternoon she had asked Gu Bing’an why the register scarcely mentioned this Prefect’s name.

Gu Bing’an’s explanation had been: Although the Prefect holds authority over a commandery, many Yiling officials rely on ties with Hongye Stronghold and the Pei family to gain profit.

Therefore, this Prefect should be a figurehead.

Thinking this, Lizhu pondered.

Xu Bi was not wrong—if that was the case, and he had not been involved in the Pei family’s rotten affairs, why would he advocate assassinating the Princess?

The first lesson of officialdom was to be wise and preserve oneself; this was what the Grand Tutor had told her.

What motive could Cui Shiyong possibly have to kill her?

“Still waiting! Seize him!”

Zhao Weizhen suddenly barked, and a group of men in black burst through the ear room door. Xu Bi drew his sword to meet them.

The inner chamber erupted into chaos.

Though Xu Bi was a military man, he was over fifty and alone; within a moment he was overwhelmed by Zhao Weizhen’s men.

Xu Bi was pressed into a pool of blood. Zhao Weizhen stepped forward and plucked the official seal from his waist.

The three thousand standing troops of Yiling Commandery could only be mobilized with that seal.

“You wouldn’t drink the courtesy wine but force the penalty wine on yourself. You’re already tied by marriage to the Pei family, so spare the airs of purity, you’re courting death—cover his head, throw him into the official jail, don’t let him die too early; he may still be of use later.”

Zhao Weizhen weighed the Commandant’s seal in his hand, a disdainful smile on his fat face.

Cui Shiyong fetched a piece of silk-paper.

“Gentlemen, since you have all decided, this is a grave matter. All who participated must leave their names on this silk-paper to ensure there are no risks.”

The officials exchanged glances, especially Zhao Weizhen, who was clearly reluctant.

“Prefect, must it be so?”

Cui Shiyong looked up at him slowly and said: “Assassinating a Princess is a capital crime; if the secret leaks, it will lead to the confiscation of families and extermination of lineages. Only by doing this can we keep the secret.”

The officials exchanged glances and in the end were persuaded, signing their names one by one.

Lizhu’s breathing slowed from the fright of the disturbance.

“Scared?”

Pei Zhaoye asked.

Lizhu drew her brows together.

“Why does everyone want to kill me?”

“You’re easy to bully, little Princess. Killing you won’t shake the rivers and mountains, and no maternal clan will stand up for you. Even if that Emperor-father of yours truly dotes on you, he’s practically become the Tan family’s son-in-law, how could he look after you…”

Lizhu turned and glared at him.

The night wind came in gusts, blowing strands of her fragrant hair against his face.

Pei Zhaoye lay propped on the roof, plucked a lock of hair in his hand, hooked it on his fingertip, and said slowly:

“I already told you, this is not a place where you can stay long. Go back to Luoyang; that is where you ought to be.”

Lizhu pushed his fingers away.

“I have things I must do. You can’t decide for me.”

The silk-like hair slipped from between his fingers; Pei Zhaoye’s hand hung in midair and curled slightly.

“The things you must do? You can’t even keep yourself safe, what else can you do?”

Lizhu lifted her chin a little.

Moonlight shone on her; her eyes looked clear and resolute.

“If they want my life, that’s on them. I will gather provisions to stop the Yanshan uprising; the Xue clan’s rise is my concern. Obstacles can be dealt with, but my goal will not waver.”

…Alas, as soon as she spoke, it sounded like madness.

“You may be a Princess, but you don’t have the power to dismiss officials, nor do you have troops to deploy. You can’t even keep your life safe—honestly, I’d like to know how you plan to achieve your goal.”

Pei Zhaoye’s gaze chilled; in an unkind tone he said:

“Yiling’s three thousand standing troops are well-armed, well-fed, and sturdy. I will not stake an entire stronghold’s life to help you, unless you hide with me in Hongye Stronghold. Yushan is surrounded by water on all sides; the reed marshes are easy to defend and hard to attack. Those officials and soldiers cannot take it—then you might have a chance of surviving. As for anything else, don’t even think about it.”

“Not sending me back to Luoyang is helping me!”

Lizhu said with hatred.

She truly feared he would take advantage of her being off guard and, together with Xuan Ying and the others, forcibly drag her back to the palace.

Once back, after Emperor Mingzhao learned of all these twists and turns, she certainly would not be able to leave Luoyang so casually again.

It would not only mean she would repeat her past life’s fate.

Even he would undergo again what had happened in his previous life.

Lizhu did not know what that was, but whatever had caused such a drastic change in his life could not have been for the better.

“…Don’t send me away, all right?”

Lizhu softened her voice, leaning closer to him, her misty gaze fixed on his eyes.

It was a tone she would never normally use.

In Pei Zhaoye’s ears, that sound sent a tingling numbness up his spine, making his whole body go weak as though dizzy but in another way, the complete opposite.

His mouth went dry, and deep within him rose a fierce, violent urge to ravage.

He wanted to burn this decaying, wretched world to ashes—and at the same time, imprison the person before him, the one who stirred his primal desire, in his arms and burn together until nothing was left.

She was truly stubborn.

As though something she feared from the depths of her heart was forcing her to walk down a dangerous path.

And he, knowing nothing of that fear, could do nothing about it.

Such helplessness, it was a humiliation.

Pei Zhaoye fixed his gaze on her.

Beneath the eaves, those people were still plotting how to assassinate the Princess of Qinghe, how to frame Hongye Stronghold.

Every word they said was like a spark, continually feeding the blaze of his anger.

Pei Zhaoye stared at her steadily.

“Open your mouth.”

Lizhu subconsciously let out a puzzled “ah.”

The next moment, he gripped her chin, leaned down again, and pressed his lips to hers.

Her fingers, resting on his thigh, trembled and tightened.

Something slipped between her parted lips.

He tilted his head, a faint blue vein rising along his neck like a thorn.

Yet the tongue invading her mouth was hot and wet, tangling with hers, licking and drawing with instinctive, untrained motions.

Lizhu’s whole body went weak and tingling under his kiss; in the brief pauses she exhaled heat and soft gasps.

When they finally parted, Lizhu’s mind was hazy, the world around her indistinct. She only saw him looking at her, eyes rippling with desire.

“Hongye Stronghold cannot be used for you,” he said, “but I can.”

She saw him lick his lips, smiling gently. “Was this the method of kissing you thought before?”