He struck the fire and lit the lamp. The orange candlelight cast over his cold, stern profile as he said:

“The lamp’s been burning too long. The smoke from the oil stings the eyes. You love reading documents at night. I saw this lampstand on my way back and bought it.”

The lampstand was cleverly designed — even if smoke rose, it would flow along the cover into the water-filled body of the lamp, without dispersing.

Lizhu tilted her head at him: “Why didn’t you ask whether I liked it or not?”

“The ones used in the palace must be far better than this. What’s there to ask?”

“That’s not the same. Ask quickly!”

Pei Zhaoye looked at her, puzzled for a moment, then said helplessly: “Does the Princess like the lampstand I gave you?”

“I like it, I like it very much. How are you so good at giving gifts?”

She leaned over the table, apricot eyes curved with a smile.

“…”

Pei Zhaoye covered half his face and turned away.

“What’s wrong?”

“…Don’t speak in that tone.”

It made one feel that even if she were to ask for a star from the heavens, he’d want to pluck it down for her.

Lizhu thought he found her lacking in decorum.

So she straightened her posture slightly and took a wooden document tablet from the table:

“Don’t worry, I’m not like this in front of others. I just received a letter from my imperial father, so I’m a little happy.”

Pei Zhaoye turned his face back.

“What did your imperial father say?”

Lizhu’s eyes curved in delight, the corners lifting proudly:

“He said he’ll issue an edict to execute Zhao Weizhen and his faction, commend Cui Shiyong, neither reward nor punish Sister Danzhu, but he also bestowed gold upon Sister Zhuqing as compensation from the court.”

Pei Zhaoye said indifferently, “Mending the pen after the sheep are lost, isn’t that what he should do?”

“I am happy because my imperial father did not doubt me.”

Fingertips turning on the wooden tablet, Lizhu said softly:

“Even Xuan Ying thought that I did these things to seize control of Yiling, that I harbored the intent to usurp power, yet my imperial father did not mention taking back my Bronze Tiger Tally, and he said I could handle the matter of the officials’ resignations on my own this time, calming the court’s criticisms, he is very gratified.”

Previously the remonstrating ministers had impeached Princess Qinghe for meddling in the commandery’s affairs precisely because of those officials who had resigned in Yiling Commandery.

Now those people have all returned to their original posts, and the officialdom of Yiling Commandery is orderly.

Moreover, with the singing of the “Ode to Golden Orchid” and the adjudication of the Zheng sisters’ case, the people now all praise Yiling Commandery for its clean administration, praising Cui Shiyong as a good official who acts for the people.

A scene of harmony between officials and populace, flourishing.

The controversy over the Princess meddling in governance naturally dissipates.

Pei Zhaoye tugged at the corner of his mouth:

“He did not doubt you because you are a Princess. If you were a prince, do you think he would not be anxious?”

Lizhu was silent for a moment.

“……I know what you say has reason, but even if I were a prince, my imperial father would be even happier.”

Pei Zhaoye’s eyes were deep.

“I know, you all think him a feeble and negligent sovereign, one who devotes himself to cultivation and is lax in state affairs, and who once made many useless decrees——but those institutions set up across the land, the granaries that can be called upon in great disasters for relief, were also among the decrees my imperial father instituted in his diligent years.”

As the candlelight flickered, Lizhu looked toward the letter on the desk.

“The cost of overturning the heavens must surely be rivers of blood, you said that before, the people do not care who sits on the throne. Since that is so, if one can turn back now in time and save the situation, why change heaven and earth? He can be made a wise sovereign, I will make him a wise sovereign.”

He had seen it.

This person was too easy to compromise, too quick to withdraw. Give her even a little way out, and she would without hesitation choose the steadiest path.

Yet thinking again.

Was he not the same?

If he had not deliberately stifled the momentum of Hongye Stronghold, if he only sought to survive quietly in the Hezhou region, the Hongye Stronghold in his dream would not have been slaughtered to the last man.

He thought that as long as he did not go to Luoyang, did not appear before those people, everyone could be at peace.

But the weak have no room to call a halt.

Those stronger than them who wish to crush them never regard the weak’s stance, they only regard their own interests.

If merely the act of him and her breathing already infringed upon their interests, what then?

That unwilling anger burned through the dream, ramping destructively all the way into this present world.

Unwilling to retreat step by step and be slaughtered.

Even more unwilling that only he alone suffer this torment.

“……If I go to Luoyang with you, can it make your imperial father into a wise sovereign?”

Pei Zhaoye cleared the disorderly desk for her with one hand, and with a manner of curiosity asked.

Lizhu blinked, seemingly not expecting him to bring up going to Luoyang — even if it was only a hypothetical.

She was about to say “of course it can,” but recalling her previous life—

Before Pei Zhaoye had even come to hold power over the court, her imperial father had already passed away. Even if he were still alive, he would not have listened to him; as for Shen Fu, he had been little by little reduced to a puppet under Pei Zhaoye’s control — Pei had never intended to assist that young emperor at all.

“I’ll handle that,” Lizhu’s gaze followed him. “You just think of a way to hold power over the court.”

Pei Zhaoye picked up the silk scrolls scattered behind her.

“Oh? You think I have that ability?”

“Of course.”

Lizhu looked at him with trusting eyes. “You’re good at everything you do. You’ll definitely succeed. If you work a little harder, you can surely recover the northern territories and achieve immortal merit!”

Pei Zhaoye rolled the bamboo slips and stacked them on the desk.

In the dream, that version of him indeed had only managed to dominate the court — it seemed he had not even reclaimed the north.

If Lizhu had never become emperor, then who had?

That black-hearted, foolish younger brother of hers?

Pei Zhaoye pulled at the corner of his lips.

Useless waste.

What was the point of holding power over the court? Letting her remain a princess all her life, what kind of ability was that?

“Does the Princess truly think I’m good at everything?”

From behind Lizhu, he pressed his lips to her earlobe.

Small, soft — he lightly bit and teased it between his teeth, his arms encircling her completely beneath his body.

“…That doesn’t seem to be what we were just talking about.”

Lizhu protested stubbornly, but her voice had already softened beyond recognition.

“What difference does it make? Does the Princess really think I’d follow you to Luoyang?”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, traveling up her spine. Lizhu turned back, glaring at him in irritation — but he cupped her chin and caught her lips, licking them slowly and thoroughly.

“Then don’t go.”

She seized a brief breath between kisses to retort.

“I can go if you want me to.”

“? Are you deaf? I said don’t go, no one’s asking you to!”

Pei Zhaoye continued on his own:

“A fine horse chooses its rider; a subject also chooses the ruler he will serve. Not just anyone can command me.”

His words, along with the hot breath and the damp, ambiguous sounds between his lips and hers, slipped into Lizhu’s ears.

The kisses made her back tremble and her breathing falter; his voice, roughened with panting, weakened her waist, each word impossible for her to ignore.

“Princess, since you can……how about, also make an effort for me?”

Lizhu blinked, dazed: “Make an effort……for what?”

The words were already on the tip of her tongue.

But Pei Zhaoye recalled the tears she had shed that drunken night, and he had to restrain himself.

Not yet the time.

She was not ready for this yet.

His eyes opened, shimmering with waves, the face that had been murderous when drawing the blade now became deep and heavy with desire.

“Want to sit on my face and try?”

Lizhu: “……?”

Lizhu found that she had finally gotten used to his lewdness, but he always managed to be a bit more excessive than she imagined.

•—–٠✤٠—–•

In the following days, Lizhu was busy at the government office handling relief work.

On one hand she distributed aid to the refugees who had fled into Yiling, on the other she was coordinating with Jiangzhou’s local officials to requisition grain for them.

Pei Zhaoye, for reasons unknown, was elusive these days, almost never seen.

Only each night before sleep he would come punctually to inexplicably kiss her, never missing, and even if Lizhu had fallen asleep he would kiss her awake before returning to his own room.

Lizhu was so busy she had no time to ask questions.

By her calculation, the combined granaries of Yiling and Wan Commandery, plus her plan of relief-through-labor, would make quelling this famine not difficult.

Until this day, Wan Commandery sent a letter.

“——The agreed three hundred thousand dan has become thirty thousand dan?”

This letter quickly spread through the office. Many people eating their evening meal heard and immediately came to discuss with Lizhu.

A young official angrily slammed the table:

“This granary was precisely for disaster relief, and the transport wagons for the pledged grain are already on the road. On what grounds can you say no and then say no? If the refugees from Jiangzhou riot and come here, won’t Wan Commandery suffer?”

“Moreover, Jiangzhou already knows we were to send three hundred thousand dan of grain. If they suddenly say there is none, won’t those commoners who do not know the truth think we broke our word?”

Lizhu looked at the signature on that letter and pursed her lips.

If she remembered correctly……this person should be a disciple of the Tan clan.

The transport wagons had already departed; to be stopped halfway could only mean a sudden order to reverse.

It was Tan Rong.

He had gone back on his word.

Lizhu thought this over and over, and did not know where she had offended him so that he would so arbitrarily make things difficult for her.

But at this moment the hearts within the office were already unsettled, and Lizhu had to put aside distracting thoughts and prioritize solving the problem.

“Does the Princess have a solution?”

Lin Zhang saw Lizhu silently pick up her brush to write a letter and leaned forward to ask.

Lizhu: “Mm. The Ever-Normal Granaries aren’t only in Wan Commandery. We can also purchase grain from elsewhere and transport it here, it’ll just take a little more time. For the next few days, thin out the relief rations a bit and hold on for a while.”

Lin Zhang frowned: “But… these days the food, clothing, and lodging for the refugees repairing the riverbanks are all being charged to the commandery’s accounts. If we have to buy grain now as well, I fear…”

“It’s all right. I’ll send a letter to Luoyang, it’ll come from my own fief’s income.”

The entire office fell suddenly silent.

Lizhu, however, didn’t care how they looked at her at that moment.

Her goal was clear — as long as Jiangzhou stayed quiet, Tan Rong would have no chance to rise. For that, even if she spent all her savings, it didn’t matter.

At her side, Xuan Ying thought for a moment and said in a low voice:

“Princess, should we also send a letter to Young Master Xun…”

Lizhu shook her head.

If he were willing to help, she wouldn’t need to send a letter; if he wasn’t, even if she sent a hundred letters and delivered them in person, he would still shut his doors.

That much she had already learned in her previous life, when she had nearly been sent away for a political marriage.

Outside the door, a figure stirred and moved away from the office.

Gu Bing’an and Danzhu were waiting outside.

Danzhu said: “Mountain Lord, you’re really not going to give the Princess a word of notice? What if the two of you end up quarreling later?”

Gu Bing’an glanced at her.

“Hongye Stronghold hasn’t been granted amnesty. The decisions within our stronghold have to be made whether or not the Princess knows.”

The battle at Jiacao Canal had cost them many brothers.

Before, they hadn’t known the full truth. Everyone had thought it was merely an attack from Jiacao Canal, and since the enemy was nearly wiped out, they considered the feud settled.

Only now did they realize there had been a mastermind behind it.

Not only that — when the Princess had been ambushed and forced to flee to their stronghold, someone had also intended to pin that crime on them and then annihilate them in one stroke.

Since its founding, when had Hongye Stronghold ever been beaten down like this?

Pei Zhaoye cast a glance toward the government office.

“The plan’s changed a bit. This time, we’ll go back to our old trade as bandits.”

Gu Bing’an and Danzhu exchanged a look and followed the figure walking ahead, asking:

“What old trade?”

“Killing. Robbery.”