Inside the inner chamber still lingered a dense, bitter scent.

Lizhu met his eyes for a moment, the corners of her lips slightly curved, the ends of her eyes bent into lovely crescent moons. Smiling, she deliberately shook her head with mock seriousness.

“Not really.”

She straightened up, her bright gaze turning to him.

“Do you want some water? Or some candied sugar?”

Pei Zhaoye had a faint smile at the corner of his lips.

“If it’s the kind of water hot enough to peel off a layer of skin, I’m afraid I couldn’t quite endure it.”

“I just didn’t have experience taking care of people before, I’m not really stupid… This time I’ll definitely remember to test the temperature first.”

Lizhu stood up to look for the kettle.

The guest room within the government office wasn’t luxurious, yet everything was complete—clean and orderly. Since Lizhu had said she wanted to stay here tonight, Xuan Ying had already arranged everything properly.

But before she found the kettle, the sound of water being poured came from behind her.

“How come you got out of bed already?”

Lizhu turned back, shocked to see Pei Zhaoye tilting his head back and drinking down a cup of tea.

He spoke as calmly as usual.

“There are wounds both in front and at the back. Lying down is uncomfortable. Standing feels a bit better.”

As she drew closer, Lizhu noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything on his upper body.

A strip of fine cloth looped from his left shoulder across his chest, tightly wrapping around his strong frame. The worst wound on his body was that one-foot-long sword cut across his back; the medical officer had spent the entire afternoon sewing it up with mulberry-bark thread.

Pei Zhaoye saw her eyes grow misty.

Tilting her head, Lizhu lightly held his forearm and examined him carefully.

“…But you can’t stand the whole night either. What about lying on your side? Wouldn’t that keep it from being pressed?”

However, there were also plenty of wounds on his arms and waist.

At a glance, his whole body was wrapped with strips of cloth here and there—like someone had forcibly pieced him back together.

Seeing that she was about to cry again, Pei Zhaoye picked up a piece of candied sugar from the desk and fed it to her.

Smiling, he asked, “Weren’t you bitten by a mouse? Where did it bite you?”

Lizhu’s cheeks puffed slightly as she mumbled, “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt anymore…”

“There was once a year when our mountain stronghold had a plague of mice. Several people were bitten, and then, the next day, I never saw them again.”

After Pei Zhaoye said that, he indeed saw the young girl before him suddenly widen her eyes.

The next instant, Lizhu turned pale, rushed to the bed, swiftly took off her shoes and socks, and under the lamplight carefully checked her feet.

Her dark hair, still carrying a faint fragrance from bathing, fell down over her shoulders as Pei Zhaoye watched her grow so anxious that beads of sweat appeared on the tip of her nose.

“Quick, bring me a lamp!”

He sat down on the footstool by the bed, holding the candlestick in his hands. The lamplight fell upon her feet—white as if molded from snow, her nails faintly pink, small and delicate.

Lizhu examined them for quite a while; the furrow between her brows gradually eased. In a low voice, she said, “It seems… there’s no bite after all…”

The snow-pale tops of her feet were flawless indeed, without a single trace of a bite—most likely it had only been nibbled.

However—

“A rat’s teeth are small. Even if it bit you, you might not see it.”

Pei Zhaoye said it with deliberate seriousness.

Lizhu’s face turned pale with fright. “Then what should I do!”

“I can only make a small sacrifice,” Pei Zhaoye said solemnly. “Have you seen someone bitten by a venomous snake? You have to use your mouth to suck out the poisonous blood.”

Lizhu had no experience with such matters, so naturally she believed whatever he said.

But since her wound was on the top of her foot, her neck flushed red, and she curled her toes shyly, stammering,

“Is… is that the only way? But… wouldn’t that trouble you too much… b-but if there’s really no other way, then I’ll have to trouble you after all…”

Seeing her so thin-skinned yet so afraid of dying, Pei Zhaoye’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

His gaze swept over those snow-white feet, and for a moment, conscience and desire fought fiercely within him. He lowered his eyes, pinched her skirt between two fingers, and draped it over her feet.

“I was teasing you.”

Lizhu blinked.

“There’s no broken skin. You won’t die. Even if there were, you’d just drink some medicine and have a bit of a fever, that’s all. Besides, if you’re bitten by a venomous snake, you can’t use your mouth to suck out the poison. Remember that?”

Lizhu glared in anger. “You tricked me again!”

“You’re just too easy to trick.”

How could anyone believe you had to suck out blood from a rat bite? Pei Zhaoye truly couldn’t understand.

“…I’m not that easy to trick.” Lizhu cast him a reproachful glance. “I just chose to give you the chance to trick me.”

It felt like a feather brushed across the tip of his heart—a tingling sweetness, as if even his bones began to bubble.

Pei Zhaoye quietly studied her brows and eyes, his gaze deep and shadowed.

“Indeed. To have hidden the bronze tiger tally until now, how could a princess like you be easy to trick?”

Leaning against the bedside, he reached under the pillow and drew out the bronze tiger tally, placing it into Lizhu’s palm.

“But since you already have Lu Yu and the tiger tally, why were you still afraid of Zhao Weizhen and Cui Shiyong? Even if you gave those men ten times the courage, they wouldn’t dare defy you—that would truly be rebellion.”

Lizhu pressed her lips together and lowered her eyes, gazing at the heavy token resting in her palm.

“This thing, in times of peace and prosperity, could easily summon thousands of troops with a single command. But now that imperial power has waned, and the land is plagued by disasters and chaos, many people already waver between rebellion and loyalty. A lump of bronze has never possessed the power to call wind and summon rain, the true power lies in the person it represents.”

Authority did not flow from top to bottom, but from bottom to top.

When the support beneath it lost its weight, even the bronze tiger tally became nothing more than a piece of scrap metal.

That was why, when Lu Yu was separated from Lizhu, he dared not use it recklessly.

And after Lizhu reunited with Lu Yu, she too dared not treat it as a talisman of protection.

Lizhu looked at him and smiled. “You’re the one who gave it that power again.”

Pei Zhaoye’s eyelashes trembled.

“Me?”

He raised an eyebrow.

Lizhu said, “With Zhao Weizhen having absolute control over Yiling Commandery, if it had been Lu Yu commanding the troops, the officers below might not have obeyed the tiger tally’s order. But you are different. Hongye Stronghold is deeply rooted in Yiling Commandery, your reputation is strong, and you even have personal ties with the Commandant Xu Bi. All these together made it possible for reinforcements to arrive so swiftly.”

Her reasoning was not without merit.

However, Pei Zhaoye laughed after hearing it.

“So, according to you, those soldiers who followed your command during the day… were actually obeying me?”

“Of course.”

Lizhu answered without hesitation.

Pei Zhaoye’s smile faded slightly.

Because he realized Lizhu wasn’t joking, she truly believed that.

“How could that be.”

Pei Zhaoye gave a short laugh, then said seriously, “To follow me would make them rebels. To follow you, that’s loyalty to the throne and love for the country. The times may be troubled, but not so rotten yet. How could they abandon the imperial army to follow me, a rebel?”

“It’s I who borrowed your influence.”

He emphasized the words.

Lizhu froze for a moment, then pressed her lips into a small smile.

“Thank you for comforting me.”

Pei Zhaoye was, for once, left speechless.

He rubbed his chin, following her words with a faint smile.

“If you think I’m comforting you, then by your reasoning—since Yiling Commandery’s military and underworld are both under my control, with enough men and money—wouldn’t it be a shame for a man not to rise in rebellion?”

Lizhu’s expression stiffened.

“You mustn’t.”

She became serious.

“I don’t care what you think,” Pei Zhaoye said with a smiling voice as he leaned closer. “Give me the bronze tiger tally. I’ll kill Lu Yu first, then Cui Shiyong. Perfect chance to let Danzhu and Gu Bing’an take their places, govern the commandery in the emperor’s stead. What do you think?”

“Nothing good.”

Lizhu hid the hand holding the bronze tiger tally behind her back, baring her teeth and glaring at him, speaking rapidly,

“Cui Shiyong is a prefect appointed by the court. Killing him equals treason. By then, all the neighboring provinces will send troops to suppress you and seize your salt ponds. No matter how many benefits you offer, no one will ally with you—because your title is unjust and your cause illegitimate. And besides, though there are small disasters in Nanyong, there’s no great calamity. You can’t even come up with a pretext for Heaven’s Mandate shifting, your rebellion would never succeed!”

“You seem to know it all quite clearly, don’t you?”

Pei Zhaoye leaned against the bedside, his gaze leisurely.

He thought Lizhu was just like a rabbit in the mountains.

At first glance, gentle, obedient, harmless.

But in truth, timid yet alert, fiercely territorial—poke her twice, and once she sensed danger, her instincts would flare up in an instant.

Lizhu quickly realized he was provoking her, and all that bristling aggression collapsed back into nothing.

“…I was talking about Yiling,” she muttered, “you’re talking about rebellion. Those are two different things.”

Pei Zhaoye looked at her with a half-smile.

“And you said you were willing to be tricked by me. Yet the moment we talk about the tiger tally, you wake right up.”

“…”

Lizhu silently tucked the tiger tally back into her robe and flashed him a sweet, appeasing smile.

She could let him fool her, but military power was no matter for jokes. That was different.

Pei Zhaoye gave a quiet laugh, his eyes sweeping over her arm.

“Did you treat the wound on your hand?”

Lizhu lifted her arm to glance at the bruises she’d gotten in the carriage. The patches of blue and purple looked especially harsh against her pale skin.

“I applied the ointment this morning. The physician said to apply it twice a day, it’ll heal soon.”

“Where’s the ointment?”

“Xuan Ying said she left it on the desk, I think.”

Pei Zhaoye stood and fetched it.

On the bed, Lizhu rolled up her sleeve and watched him sit across from her on the footstool, one long leg bent, his back slightly hunched as he focused on applying the medicine for her.

The cool ointment spread over her arm, and for a fleeting moment Lizhu thought—

Wasn’t she the one who was supposed to be taking care of him?

How did it end up the other way around?

“Hss—”

When she felt the pressure of his fingers against a bruise, Lizhu gasped in pain and immediately tried to pull her hand back.

Pei Zhaoye lifted his gaze and gave her a look, tightening his grip around her wrist bone.

“The ointment only works if it’s rubbed in. Bear with it.”

That was exactly what the physician had told her too—only Xuan Ying, upon seeing her eyes well up with tears after just a few rubs, hadn’t the heart to press any further.

Pei Zhaoye, however, had no such hesitation.

Lizhu didn’t want to seem delicate, so she pressed her lips together and tried to act calm.

But she had truly never suffered such physical pain in her life. In less than three breaths, she toppled sideways onto the brocade quilt, struggling and whining.

“All right, all right, that’s enough already…”

His grip was like an iron clamp. Lizhu honestly couldn’t tell who was supposed to be the injured one, he certainly didn’t seem weak or exhausted in the slightest.

“It’s far from enough,” he said with cold impartiality. “Give me the other hand.”

Lizhu’s eyes were watery. “This hand didn’t get hurt, really.”

“I’ve no time for your steamed-and-cooked excuses.”

Without another word, Pei Zhaoye grabbed the hand she was hiding behind her back and rolled up her sleeve.

On her wrist were dark bruises, marks from someone’s grip.