Stopped.

The sweat-drenched, delicate head slowly lowered, and Lizhu looked toward that hand.

Rough, slender, with calluses on the pads of the fingers, as if left by years of gripping a sword, at this moment glistening with damp moisture.

Did Yinzhi have calluses this thick?

Lizhu looked at his hand in confusion.

The next moment, that finger pressed against a pair of thin lips, eyelids lowered, and he stretched out his tongue and licked once, full of desire.

His dark eyes swept toward her, who trembled slightly.

“Not allowed?”

Lizhu silently curled her toes.

“Wasn’t everything allowed?”

At the end of his tone there was a faint displeasure not easily noticed.

Lizhu blushed slightly: “…I have not bathed tonight.”

“So fragrant already, what’s the need to wash, firewood costs money, Princess.”

“…”

…Would Yinzhi speak like that?

Lizhu wanted to see clearly the face before her, yet inside the chamber there was no candlelight, only a trace of moonlight from outside the window.

Snowflakes fluttered against the window lattice, and the charcoal fire crackled as it burned.

“Then…”

Leaning against his chest, her fingers hooked the silver thread on his robe, she said in a voice extremely soft:

“Then wash after it’s done, Yinzhi, you are not usually like this, have I spoiled you too much?”

She truly had spoiled “him” too much.

The ambiguous warmth in the chamber gradually cooled, the light in the eyes rippled in the night.

Realizing that the “Pei Yinzhi” in her words might be himself, all the strange guesses and tests she had before now had their reasons.

They were not guesses.

Leaving Hongye Village, going to Luoyang, becoming an official, perhaps even marrying a princess—these were not dreams only he could see.

To her, perhaps they had indeed existed in some real way.

It was too bizarre.

If not for that dream, Pei Zhaoye would never have made such a connection.

He had personally witnessed the destruction of Hongye Village; he knew who the mastermind was; putting himself in that position, he knew even more what he would do next.

That person had destroyed what he valued most.

He would also spend the latter half of his life living only to destroy everything he once cherished.

Only, he had risen halfway through life—by the time he step by step walked to stand before her, had she already married Tan Xun?

It didn’t matter.

It was unimportant.

He would still snatch her away.

If not, how could she have traveled all the way from Luoyang to Yiling, to his side?

Only, thinking this way—

Pei Zhaoye looked at her unconscious intimacy, and the ecstasy of guessing that the two had once been husband and wife receded like a swiftly withdrawing tide.

A jealousy that had nowhere to settle surged forth.

His gaze turned dark, he leaned in and bit her lips, the tip of his tongue invading with an intensely forceful sensation.

He also pinched her chin lightly yet firmly, as if urging her to open a little wider for him, to allow him in a bit more, to let him invade, to let him fill her.

“…chu…gu…”

His Adam’s apple moved, unrestrained, kissing out sounds that made Lizhu’s face burn red and her ears flush.

When their tightly pressed lips parted, a trace of silver thread stretched between them. He laughed softly, the desire in his eyes almost overflowing.

Very soon, he lowered his head.

His nose brushed against her once.

The fingers resting on the quilt tightened beyond endurance.

Lizhu looked up at the canopy above the bed; she could see nothing, only felt that this was different from usual.

Something was embedded against the soft flesh of his tongue, rubbing and hooking, its presence abnormally strong. He had not the slightest skill, knowing nothing of gradual progression.

“…ha…” Lizhu suddenly opened her eyes wide, “…Yinzhi… stop first… slower…”

“Mm mm.”

He responded vaguely, his palm caressing gently.

But showed no intention of stopping.

That part, at least, was exactly the same as usual.

Pei Zhaoye was still slowly exploring, just about to enter the rhythm when he heard her voice—strained, restrained, yet still changing tone.

“So soon?”

He lightly sucked once, as an ending, then raised his eyes to quietly admire her present appearance.

“Not going to enjoy it a little more?”

Lizhu threw at him the pillow beneath her waist.

That was something he had, midway, suddenly discovered was more convenient and stuffed there himself.

Pei Zhaoye, who had been sitting on the footstool, rose and gathered the Princess, who had gone completely limp and soft all over, into his arms.

Lizhu wore only a soft sleeping garment. Pressed against his chest, she felt uncomfortable from the rough, raised embroidery on his clothes.

Her breathing hadn’t yet steadied. Pei Zhaoye wanted to lower his head to kiss her, but she avoided him.

“…You… go rinse your mouth first.”

He laughed: “Must the Princess disdain her own things?”

“Rinse your mouth!”

Pei Zhaoye casually picked up the water Xuan Ying had left by the couch, took a large mouthful to rinse, then held half a mouthful, turned his head, and passed it to her.

Lizhu tilted her head back, swallowing half, spilling half.

“The blanket is all wet.”

She pouted.

“Wasn’t it already wet just now?”

He said indifferently.

“…”

Lizhu didn’t want to talk to him anymore. She felt Yinzhi was speaking very strangely tonight.

As the end of the Hai hour [9 PM to 11 PM] approached, Pei Zhaoye finally, reluctantly, let her go.

He used the charcoal fire in the room to heat some water, cleaned her up, changed her blanket for her, then squatted by the charcoal fire to dry the wet spots before changing it back, so Xuan Ying wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

After finishing all this, when he looked at her again, the girl on the couch with her dark hair spread out was already asleep.

Pei Zhaoye gazed at her by the couch for a long time.

Her brows and eyes were relaxed, her long lashes lowered, the lines of her profile soft, lovely, and innocent, looking as if she had fallen into a lazy sleep after being fully satisfied.

He kissed her eyelids and said softly: “No matter how good he is, he is still a dead man. Can he make you happy?”

The moonlight was quiet, with no response.

•—–٠✤٠—–•

Lizhu was awakened once again by a loud rooster’s crow.

When she opened her eyes, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

According to Lizhu’s usual routine, she should be getting up around this time.

But today, for some reason, her eyelids felt terribly heavy. Not long after waking up, she turned over and sank back into a heavy, drowsy sleep.

At one point, she faintly heard Xuan Ying come in to add charcoal, but she still didn’t have the strength to open her eyes.

It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky that Xuan Ying finally managed to shake her awake.

“…Princess, you really must not drink anymore in the future.”

Xuan Ying, while helping her coil up her hair, said:

“The wine in this stronghold is not the sweet kind from the palace. It’s fierce—one cup is enough to fell you. Even if the Princess wishes to win the people’s hearts here, just one cup to show respect is enough.”

Lizhu: “…Xuan Ying, you think of me as such a schemer.”

Xuan Ying smiled without speaking.

The charcoal fire in the inner room was burning well. Lizhu had not yet changed clothes and sat before the bronze mirror, her sleeping robe loose, exposing a stretch of snow-white skin beneath her collarbone.

Lizhu suddenly felt something was strange.

While Xuan Ying was tidying the bed, Lizhu secretly pulled open her collar and looked down.

White—very white; crimson—also very crimson.

Lizhu blinked, belatedly recalling something.

Last night…

It seemed she had had a spring dream.

And the person in the dream appeared to be the Yinzhi of her previous life.

Fragmented scenes and words surged up in her memory; sitting before the mirror, Lizhu saw her own cheeks and the tips of her ears turn instantly red.

This dream was too… too…

Lizhu thought to herself, thankfully no one could know what she had dreamed.

Could it be because it had been too long since she had…?

Lizhu lowered her head, her feelings a bit complicated.

To her, Pei Zhaoye was her husband.

At night he was to serve her to bed; in the morning to attend her rising. In food, clothing, dwelling, and travel—so long as it concerned her, there was nothing he would not ask about, nothing he would not care for.

After his death, it had taken Lizhu two whole years to finally grow used to the days without him.

But after being reborn, to him, she was merely a princess he had known for only a few months.

Not only did he refuse to be recruited by her, he could, for the sake of his brothers in Hongye Village, be ready to rebel at any moment.

…How hateful.

And she even craved his body in the middle of the night—utterly shameless!

Xuan Ying was just about to apply face cream for her when she suddenly saw the princess straighten her expression and say:

“No hurry yet, Xuan Ying, have Chang Jun bring me a basin of cold water.”

Xuan Ying: …?

After washing her face with cold water, Lizhu finally cast off those amorous thoughts.

“It sounds noisy outside,” Lizhu asked, “what are they doing?”

Xuan Ying: “The Princess will know once you go out and look.”

Putting on a white fox-fur cloak taken from the chest, Lizhu pushed open the door and discovered that outside was a world of silver and white.

It had snowed the whole night.

The clouds were pale; the clear sun shone on the snow, and Chang Jun, rising early, had cleared a path.

Following this path out of the courtyard and heading toward the kitchen, Lizhu saw along the way quite a few mountain bandits carrying logs.

“Good morning, Princess!”

“…!”

One after another came the calls of “Good morning, Princess!”—often before Lizhu even saw the people, the voices reached her first, startling her into a shiver.

Xuan Ying smiled faintly: “Though a bit rough, since they know to greet the Princess, it cannot be called impolite.”

Lizhu: “…If only their voices could be softer, I’d be happier.”

After walking through the snow for a while, she finally encountered a figure who greeted her gently.

Dressed in plain green cloth, with black hair braided into a single plait hanging from the left side—it was Danzhu’s elder sister, Zheng Zhuqing.

She was serving rice and dishes to the mountain bandits building huts.

Seeing Lizhu approach, she hurriedly set down her work and saluted her.

“This common woman greets the Princess.”