She said, “The Xue family of Suinan has been a noble clan since the previous dynasty. People say there are only thousand-year aristocratic families, not thousand-year dynasties. With their influence in Jiangzhou, they indeed have the capital to be arrogant.”

Pei Zhaoye gave a short, mocking laugh at her words:

“Thousands of years, hundreds of years—and they’ve still never produced an emperor. What, do they just look down on it? Don’t want to be one?”

No ability, yet still good at finding excuses for themselves.

Lizhu was choked by his words, wanting to refute him, but after thinking it over from all angles, she found that his nonsense somehow carried a trace of reason.

She suddenly realized that reading fewer books also had its advantages.

He truly had not the slightest bit of reverence toward anything—his arrogance was almost enviable.

Lizhu said, “Maybe they didn’t want to before, but now, I suppose they really do.”

“If they want it, they’ll still have to see whether they can take it—thrones aren’t as easy to snatch as the Princess’s embroidered shoes.”

Lizhu froze.

“How do you know about that!”

Just yesterday, she had clearly told Chang Jun to hide that remaining shoe.

Pei Zhaoye’s lips curved slightly:

“You only have four pairs of shoes in total. One pair’s worn out, three pairs left—you treasure them so much you change them every day for fear of ruining them. Now one pair suddenly goes missing—of course when I had Danzhu ask Chang Jun, I found out.”

Lizhu quickly pressed down on the back of his hand.

“It’s just one pair of shoes. I wasn’t hurt, it’s nothing serious. Don’t be too angry…”

Pei Zhaoye looked at her silently without speaking.

Of course he was angry. How could he not be?

But what angered him wasn’t that so-called damned Second Young Master Xue—it was Lizhu.

He despised those nobles who looked down upon commoners, believing themselves superior.

Yet he couldn’t deny that a princess born of high rank and favored alone by the Emperor—if her eyes grew to the heavens, it would not be strange.

For the first time, Pei Zhaoye wished Lizhu could learn at least a little of the vices of the powerful.

For example, like that Third Lady Xue—if Lizhu had even thirty percent of her arrogance, she would have already had Chang Jun cut that Second Young Master Xue into two pieces, then chop him finely into minced meat.

Or, thinking back to her previous life in the Tan household—had she been a willful, domineering princess, how could she have been bullied by Tan Xun’s mother?

But those were only thoughts.

She was a princess—why should she not be arrogant, not be willful and unrestrained, not live as she pleased? Did he not understand that?

Pei Zhaoye turned his hand and clasped hers, squeezing her palm.

Soft as tofu.

Such a completely soft person, yet she had still risked everything for him, pulling him out from under Tan Rong’s grasp.

“Don’t worry. Before, I didn’t care for my own life. But now, for you, I’ll have to change my temper—act only after careful planning… I’m not angry, just thinking I’ll go buy you a new pair of shoes later.”

Lizhu let out a breath of relief.

In her previous life, she had once felt a bit regretful that Pei Zhaoye never got jealous; now she knew—when he did, it was earth-shaking, nothing ordinary at all.

…Fortunately, he didn’t know about what had happened between Tan Xun and Pei Yinzhi in her past life.

Lizhu smiled sweetly. “All right. But don’t buy any Shu brocade, it’s too expensive. I’ll just wear the most ordinary silk.”

“……”

Unclear what exactly she meant by “ordinary”—that, at least, was very much in the manner of nobility.

Following her request, Pei Zhaoye bought a pair of the most “ordinary” silk embroidered shoes, and Lizhu wore them for several days straight, treasuring them dearly.

The Hongye Army, passing through the city, marched for several more days. Under the welcoming crowds of Jiangzhou’s citizens, they finally arrived at Yanshan.

Wu Yan led his troops to meet them outside the city gates.

From afar, everyone saw the command flag bearing the character “Pei,” and couldn’t help whispering among themselves:

“…It’s said that command flag was inscribed personally by Princess Qinghe.”

“That Pei Zhaoye—heard he’s not bad-looking. Isn’t he just the Princess’s favored plaything, using her to climb up? Just a pretty boy, what right does he have to come and take the position of commander?”

The silent Wu Yan suddenly spoke:

“I heard the stronghold he led held quite some power in the Hezhou region. He’s only twenty.”

“So what?”

Beside him, a man named Chen Yong said:

“A mule or a horse, we’ll see once it’s led out for a run. They were all recruited by the Princess—if we count it properly, their Hongye Army are mountain bandits, while we of Yanshan are rebels. Who’s nobler than whom? Why should they press us down?”

At those words, many agreed, and Wu Yan made no comment.

Meanwhile, Pei Zhaoye’s group, gradually converging with them, was discussing the very same thing.

“…Today, with the two armies joining, countless eyes will be watching. The Xue family, the Tan family, even the court—many wish to see the refugee army fall into chaos before it’s even properly formed.”

Gu Bing’an rode beside Pei Zhaoye and said:

“The last time you ordered me to send men to gather information—indeed, the Yanshan soldiers have much resentment toward you, General, for being made commander of the refugee army.”

Pei Zhaoye had already expected as much, showing no surprise, merely asking casually:

“What sort of resentment?”

“General, you already know—what else could it be? They say you only got this command through the Princess’s skirt strings. And also…”

“What else?”

Gu Bing’an glanced at Pei Zhaoye’s expression, suppressing a laugh as he lowered his voice:

“They also said that if it really comes to that, their Yanshan Army has men to offer—whatever kind the Princess wants, however tall, however big, she can take her pick!”

Pei Zhaoye: “…”

Lizhu had no idea that the Yanshan Army had already selected a paramour for her.

Through the curtain, she heard Wu Yan’s voice:

“Greetings to Princess Qinghe.”

Xuan Ying supported Lizhu as she alighted from the carriage.

The last time she had seen Wu Yan was in the pavilion at the heart of the lake.

To tell the truth, Lizhu had not expected him to keep his word so faithfully—he had accepted the grain, then submitted to the imperial court, dutifully stationed his troops here, and waited for her arrival.

It was said that in recent days, his good brother Li Da had led the remaining Yanshan Army to ravage several prefectures in succession.

Their path had been completely unimpeded—they plundered both grain and silver, and by now had become a veritable local overlord.

As for these Yanshan troops who had surrendered to the court, because the provisions and pay had yet to be delivered, all were still dressed in ragged clothes, appearing barely newly fed.

One pair of eyes after another looked toward Lizhu, then turned to glance at the Hongye Army behind her—men clad in armor and bearing weapons—each gaze filled with pent-up tension.

Lizhu offered a few words of concern and comfort.

“The Princess has ensured that we brothers and our families all have food to eat—everyone is deeply grateful. I, Wu Yan, naturally keep my word, and will not raid the county or prefectural granaries.”

Wu Yan’s gaze shifted toward the man standing behind Lizhu.

“This must be the leader of the Hongye Army?”

Gu Bing’an smiled. “Not only the leader of the Hongye Army, but also the commander of the refugee army. Leader Wu should address him as General Pei.”

Chen Yong said, “The Hongye Stronghold has only two thousand men, while our Yanshan Army has a full five thousand. As for who should be commander, that still deserves some discussion.”

Gu Bing’an replied, “In war, victory is not decided by numbers. Otherwise, how would a force of a million ever lose to one of a hundred thousand? The Hongye Army is well trained and battle-tested—the commander should naturally be chosen from among us, where there’s greater assurance of victory.”

“You—!” Furious, Chen Yong drew his blade.

At once, both sides were alarmed. Lizhu stood between them; the continuous sound of blades unsheathing rang past her ears, and a thin layer of sweat formed on her back.

Amid the pounding of her heart, Lizhu gripped Xuan Ying’s hand tightly, forcing herself to remain calm.

“Wu Yan, do you not trust my judgment?”

Wu Yan said, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, only that I’m unconvinced. Our Yanshan Army can serve as commander too, as long as the Princess gives us the chance.”

Pei Zhaoye leisurely stroked his horse, as though all this had nothing to do with him.

And indeed, it had little to do with him.

For what they questioned was, in truth, the Princess’s judgment—they did not trust enough in her decisions.

Lizhu drew in a deep breath and said:

“I can give you this chance. But this is the only time you are allowed to question me. If you fail, from this day forth, the Yanshan Army may never again doubt any of my decisions.”

Wu Yan and the others looked at one another in surprise.

Wu Yan fixed his gaze on her. “Very well.”

Lizhu had, in fact, long foreseen that such a conflict would arise—she just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. No sooner had they met than the two sides were already standing against each other, like fire and water.

And they had even drawn their blades.

Lizhu stood caught amid countless gleaming white edges; though the blades were aimed at the other side, she felt as if every tip were pressing upon her life.

“…Four rounds of competition. Each side will decide two contests of their own choosing. No deaths are allowed, and no gathering crowds for armed brawls. If the four rounds end in a tie, I will personally set an additional deciding test. Do you agree?”

Wu Yan pondered for a moment. “We’ll follow the Princess’s word.”

Pei Zhaoye said, “I will win.”

The men of the Yanshan Army all turned to look at him.

His tone sounded as though he were stating a simple fact—devoid of emotion, yet boundlessly arrogant.

He had to win.

And he had to win without leaving any room for dispute, so that Lizhu’s decision would be proven correct and rational, and these men would accept her command.

The dark-skinned Wu Yan cast him a heavy, shadowed glance.

“For our first round, let you and me compete one-on-one. For the second, we each pick ten men from our armies to compete. How about that?”

For Wu Yan to hold leadership of the Yanshan Army, he was clearly no ordinary man.

At the very least, his physique appeared no weaker than Pei Zhaoye’s.

Lizhu examined Wu Yan closely, her gaze sweeping over his arms and thighs, and silently broke into a cold sweat on Pei Zhaoye’s behalf.

But Pei Zhaoye was looking at her.

“Agreed.”

He smiled slightly. “I’ve decided mine as well. For the first round, each side sends fifty men to hunt sheep. Whoever brings back more wins.”

Lizhu turned her head in disbelief.

…Did he just say hunt what?

Wu Yan frowned.

Though he couldn’t quite understand why they would hunt sheep instead of other beasts or birds, the meaning was much the same.

Besides, the nearest ownerless mountain was Yanshan itself.

Whichever way one looked at it, the Yanshan Army had the advantage.

Wu Yan nodded.

“And the second round?”

“The second round…” Pei Zhaoye’s smile deepened faintly. “Let’s test our courage.”

He glanced toward the direction of Suinan Commandery.

“Let’s see which of us can, without making a sound, strip the Second Young Master Xue of the Suinan Xue clan bare and hang him up in the most conspicuous place in the city. Leader Wu, do you dare?”