“No need for formality, no need.”

Lizhu stepped forward to help her up and asked with a smile:

“Are you living here in Hongye Village now?”

Zheng Zhuqing seemed a little surprised that the Princess spoke kindly, without any airs.

She answered, “Replying to the Princess, thanks to the Mountain Lord’s kindness, I now help out in the kitchen here in the village.”

“Are you getting used to it?”

“Danzhu has long held respect in the stronghold. Everyone knows I am her elder sister, so they treat me with much respect.”

In the past, being an official’s wife had seemed glamorous, but she had to carefully serve her parents-in-law and socialize on behalf of her husband with other wives—its weariness, outsiders could never know.

How could that compare to the peace of living comfortably thanks to her younger sister’s name?

Only, Danzhu always felt that making her, an official’s wife, live as a bandit alongside her was an injustice.

Seeing that her words came from the heart, Lizhu also felt relieved.

“Right, what are they busy with over there?”

Zheng Zhuqing glanced back and said with a smile:

“They’re busy expanding the Princess’s courtyard.”

Lizhu was a little surprised.

She had thought it was Pei Zhaoye’s order, but after asking in detail, she learned that it was actually the idea of Chou Er, the one at Pei Zhaoye’s side.

Chou Er was eating in a shed nearby. Seeing Lizhu approach, he stood up, cupped his hands, and explained:

“…Wasn’t there more than a dozen maidservants traveling with the Princess, still left in the government office in the city? There are empty houses here in the stronghold, but they’re all mixed in with the brothers below—it’d be inconvenient. We discussed it, and thought it best to extend the Princess’s courtyard a bit at the back; it’d be easier to live in. The Mountain Lord agreed too.”

Lizhu blinked: “But… I might not stay here all the time…”

In truth, not might not—but certainly wouldn’t.

Chou Er froze for a moment, scratching his head.

“Ah, right, forgot… I mean, how could the Princess live in our stronghold all the time… Surely you’ll go back to the palace. Then, just take this place as, uh, what’s it called, a temporary palace—come stay when you’re free…”

By the end, even Chou Er himself felt it was unrealistic.

Someone with so many royal palaces wouldn’t come stay in their thatched huts.

Not just the Princess—even her maidservants probably wouldn’t look twice at the place.

“Alright then.”

Chou Er lifted his head in surprise and met a pair of smiling eyes.

“Then everyone will have to work a little harder, make sure the palace doesn’t leak when it rains.”

“It won’t leak for sure!”

Chou Er vowed solemnly.

Not far away, Pei Zhaoye was leaning by the window. Hearing the two finish speaking, he saw Lizhu and the female official beside her walking toward the dining hall, smiling as they talked.

“—So happy even living in a thatched hut?”

The moment Lizhu met Pei Zhaoye’s gaze, her smile stiffened slightly.

Last night’s dream flooded back into her mind, vivid as if it had truly happened. Feeling guilty, she averted her eyes.

“Of course I’m happy.”

She sat down, appearing calm.

“A temporary palace, no matter how beautiful, wasn’t built specially for me. But this thatched hut—I earned it with my own ability, so of course I’m happier. Oh, and as for the expenses—the money for materials, labor, and food will all come from me. I won’t shortchange them.”

Chang Jun, who had gone ahead to the kitchen, served the midday meal. Lizhu, who had skipped breakfast, ate with appetite.

Pei Zhaoye silently watched her.

“Princess has nothing she wants to say to me?”

“Say what?”

Lizhu looked at him in confusion. “I’m going to the government office later, that’s something I should tell you.”

“Nothing else?”

Pei Zhaoye raised his brows slightly, his fingertips tapping slowly on the table.

“Last night—”

Lizhu choked on her soup, coughed several times, her face flushing red.

“Last night, I saw the Princess completely drunk, insisting on writing on someone’s body. I wonder, after returning, did you feel any discomfort?”

“—I even wrote on someone’s body?”

Lizhu stared in shock, eyes wide.

He paused and said: “The Princess doesn’t remember?”

Lizhu shook her head blankly.

Hearing him say so, it did seem vaguely familiar, but as for the details—Lizhu truly couldn’t remember a thing.

“I… was that person displeased? Should I reward him with something?”

“The Princess using her imperial brush to write on his body is already a reward—why reward more? He’d die from the pleasure.”

Pei Zhaoye said coolly.

“That’s not the right way to put it.”

Seeing Lizhu lower her head again to continue eating, her face showing no change, Pei Zhaoye finally confirmed—she truly didn’t remember what had happened in the bedchamber last night.

So after getting drunk, she really remembered nothing.

He tilted his head, resting his jaw in his hand, his eyes dark.

Lizhu slowly looked up: “Why are you again…?”

Again using that kind of gaze on her.

She was merely sitting here eating; she had done nothing—yet why did it feel like he was undressing her with his eyes again.

At first, Pei Zhaoye didn’t understand; then he realized.

So that was it.

No wonder sometimes she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

It wasn’t that he overthought—it was that she truly understood him well.

Pei Zhaoye’s lips lifted unconsciously.

Yet when he thought of how she understood him, and which version of him she understood, the curve of his mouth faded slightly.

“Again what? What about me?”

He acted as though he didn’t understand.

Lizhu, unable to deal with him, could only say angrily: “…Nothing.”

In the afternoon, Lizhu and her group descended the mountain once more, passing by the villages near Yushan.

Lifting the curtain to look outside, she saw the fields covered with snow, only a few farmers occasionally visible turning the soil.

Seeing the carriage coming from Hongye Village, the farmers straightened their backs and shouted:

“The Mountain Lord! The smithy hasn’t opened again these past two days. When you’ve got time, go urge them a bit, will you? The plough’s broken, we’re in a hurry to get it fixed!”

“Got it.”

A voice answered from inside the carriage.

No sooner had the reply come than the person turned to see the Princess beside him, her head tilted, smiling at him.

Lizhu said, “So even small matters like this are under your care?”

“Otherwise, what does the Mountain Lord do all day?”

Pei Zhaoye leaned lazily against the carriage wall. “It’s not as if we have a steady supply of fat sheep like the Princess passing by Yushan for us to butcher.”

Lizhu’s smile immediately vanished.

“Besides, this isn’t a small matter. In winter, it’s fine—but during busy farming seasons, if tools are delayed even for a few days, the consequences can be serious.”

Lizhu nodded. “Smithies are all directly overseen by county officials. Since the dismissals these past few days, there must’ve been some disruption. Starting today, order should be restored… Wait a minute.”

Pei Zhaoye met her suspicious gaze.

“You wouldn’t happen to be meddling with official iron, would you?”

“…Just meddling a little. Those iron officials waste three days out of seven doing nothing—people can wait, but the fields can’t.”

Lizhu said, “You really have no fear of death.”

“Too kind. If I don’t go to hell, who will?”

Seeing his smiling, utterly unafraid expression, Lizhu’s heart sank a little.

Now, she no longer thought the way she had when she first arrived in Yiling.

Pei Zhaoye’s private management of salt and iron had its reasons, but the danger surrounding Hongye Village had not disappeared.

He had found a delicate balance between officials and the people; this time, it could return to balance—but next time?

A single misstep, and the tragedy of Hongye Village’s destruction could repeat itself in another form.

Surrender to the imperial court was still their only path to survival.

Only…

Lizhu also understood why he refused to be subdued.

A small matter reflected the larger truth—if Yiling’s governance was like this, the other regions could not be any better.

If Hongye Village were to surrender, it would only become the hired knife of corrupt officials and aristocratic families, aiding the wicked.

She remained deep in thought the whole way.

When they reached the outskirts of Xiangcheng, the sound of commotion came from outside the carriage. Lizhu ordered Chang Jun to step down and investigate.

After a while, Chang Jun returned and said:

“Princess, it’s refugees from Jiangzhou. The gate guards have blocked them outside. I heard there are five to six hundred who’ve reached Yiling, and even more still in Jiangzhou. With such numbers, Jiangzhou is likely to fall into chaos.”

“I will not let them fall into chaos.”

Lizhu pressed her lips together.

“Enter the city first.”

The carriage rolled onward, passing by the refugees in their tattered clothes.

Pei Zhaoye said, “You plan to open the city and distribute grain? Saving these people isn’t difficult, but once that door is opened, more and more refugees will come to Yiling County. The grain stores will be depleted quickly—you must think it through.”

“There’s also the three hundred thousand shi of grain promised by Tan Xun.”

Lizhu pondered for a moment.

“It should be enough. We can’t possibly have grain yet keep the gates shut, letting these people starve to death outside Yiling County.”

Pei Zhaoye said nothing in reply.

Several officials in official robes stood outside the yamen.

Having received word from the city gates that the Princess had entered the city, they came early to greet her. The one leading them was Lin Zhang.

He held in his arms a dispatch that had just arrived at the post station, a document sent back from Luoyang.

Pei Zhaoye lifted the curtain for a glance and pulled at the corner of his lips.

After those old bureaucrats were dismissed, all the replacements were young officials newly entered into service.

Indeed—each with refined features, proper bearing, and vigorous spirit.

He suddenly recalled the image of himself in the dream, hair bound and coronet on head.

Just as Lizhu stepped down from the carriage, the person beside her said:

“Didn’t notice before—this Lin Juecao, now that he’s donned the official robe and tied his coronet ribbon, does look rather spirited and sharp.”

At those words, Lizhu immediately knew she must not respond in agreement.

She smiled brightly and said, “…It’s all the merit of the robes. Any of our Nanyong officials, once they wear them, appear refined and dignified.”

Pei Zhaoye’s gaze swept over her, eyes faintly cool, the smile at his lips turning cold.

So she really did like men in official robes.