Was she all right?

From behind the screen came Lizhu’s voice: “Did you leave?”

“No.”

“Then when do you plan to return to your own tent?”

Pei Zhaoye said: “From now on, if the princess summons me for the night, I’ll come at the Hour of the Rat (11:00 p.m. – 1:00 a.m.) and leave at the Hour of the Hare (5:00 a.m. – 7:00 a.m.). The camp’s patrol shifts at that time every day, so no one will see.”

“What do you mean summon you for the night—you can come whenever you like, Xuan Ying and the others won’t stop you.”

“Isn’t that because I’m worried it might be inconvenient for the princess? What if you summon someone else for the night? Wouldn’t it be awkward if I ran into them?”

Lizhu’s half face was submerged in the water, and as she laughed, several bubbles rose to the surface.

“Pei Zhaoye, so you’re such a magnanimous man after all.”

Her voice drifted through the sound of water, sweet and clear. Pei Zhaoye gave a cold laugh:

“Yes, yes, the princess is noble and precious, her beauty like flowers and moonlight. Heroes across the land all bow before her—would I still dare to wish for her all to myself?”

The sound of water grew louder. His hearing was sharp; he could hear the sound of bare feet stepping onto the wooden stool as she stepped out from the bath.

His throat moved.

He closed his eyes.

Not long after, light footsteps approached, the lamps and candles were blown out, and someone rustled softly as they slipped into his quilt.

Her small chin rested on his chest.

In the dim, indistinct light of the night, she smiled with bright eyes.

“I thought you didn’t want to have me all to yourself. Otherwise, why not just move in and live openly with me in one tent?”

“…That only shows you don’t understand men at all.”

Pei Zhaoye turned over and pressed her beneath him. In the faint moonlight filtering into the tent, he looked into her bright eyes and said:

“When men gather together, what they love most to talk about are things below the waist. If you were to live with me in the same tent, do you think they wouldn’t let their imaginations run wild at night?”

Lizhu’s eyes widened. “Insolent! Who would dare!”

“Even if the princess can govern heaven and earth, I fear you can’t govern what others think at night. I’m like this myself, wouldn’t I know them?”

Pei Zhaoye’s hand brushed her lips, half-smiling.

“Those who do great things don’t fuss over trifles. The princess suffers a little loss, and I’ll suffer a little loss too.”

Lizhu nodded earnestly. “Then I’ll make it up to you later.”

Now it was so cold, and at the Hour of the Hare the sky wasn’t even light yet—he still had to rise early every morning and quietly slip back to his own tent. How pitiful.

When the world was at peace someday, she would never let him endure such hardship again.

“…”

Pei Zhaoye felt that the “loss” they each spoke of… clearly wasn’t the same thing.

“But that aside,” Lizhu changed her tone, “Today I talked for a while with those Yanshan men. Most of them were born poor farmers—simple and honest. Of course, the ones who weren’t simple and honest all followed Li Da.”

It was a pity that, after the Xue Clan rose in rebellion in the previous life, because of internal chaos, their strength weakened, and they were forced to turn to the Xue Clan.

In several battles, the Xue Clan always used the Yanshan Army as the vanguard, and in the end, when the Xue Clan was executed, the Yanshan Army was almost completely annihilated.

“If they hadn’t been on the verge of starving to death, they never would have risen in revolt. Also, I noticed their clothes are ragged, and in this bitter cold, quite a few are still wearing straw sandals…”

Pei Zhaoye asked flatly, “So?”

“So,” Lizhu spread open her palm, smiling sweetly, “I want to buy them clothes and shoes.”

Pei Zhaoye: “…Do you have money?”

“No.”

Lizhu stared straight at him.

Pei Zhaoye: “…You want me to give you money to buy clothes and shoes for other men?”

“And also weapons and armor. I saw some of them still carrying kitchen knives—I really don’t know how they survived the previous government crackdowns.”

Lizhu blinked. “When the court allocates military pay and provisions, I’ll pay you back, all right?”

In truth, Pei Zhaoye instinctively felt that the court wouldn’t send them much in the way of supplies.

If Nanyong could properly support its armies, why would it need to make use of mountain bandits and rebels like them? Nor would it ever allow a princess to command such a force.

Giving this matter to her was nothing more than treating a dead horse as a living one.

Still, Lizhu had not been wrong when she said that the profits from the salt pools and marshlands had always belonged to the court. Only in this way could the court sustain its armies, protect its people from foreign invasion, and keep them living in peace.

He was unwilling to hand over the salt pools he controlled for the wasteful use of an emperor obsessed with alchemy and Daoist arts.

But he was willing to use them to support a new court.

Thinking this, Pei Zhaoye kept his face expressionless and said coolly, “I’ll think about it.”

Lizhu was startled—this was not the answer she expected.

Her gaze turned pleading. “Please, please, how long do you need to think? The Winter Solstice is almost here.”

How could they get through the winter wearing straw sandals?

“It’s not a small sum, of course I need to think a bit longer… Unless the princess really believes I’m so blinded by lust that just a few words from her would make me do whatever she asks?”

Lizhu looked at him, her eyes full of suspicion.

Pei Zhaoye raised an eyebrow. “Why does the princess think of me like that? Truly makes one sad.”

“…Then could your hand please not slip inside my sleeping robe?”

“Of course not.”

“…”

Then how could you say such words with a straight face!

Lizhu’s resentful gaze gradually melted under his kneading and kisses.

“We haven’t finished talking yet!”

She blocked his hand and asked in a low voice, “So will you give it or not?”

He laughed. “Aren’t I giving it right now?”

“…You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Give,” he said, kissing her lips. “This is the first time the princess has spoken a request aloud—no matter what it is, as long as I have it, how could I not give it?”

Only then did Lizhu loosen her grip, allowing him to do as he pleased.

As her voice broke into soft cries, she heard him ask:

“…Compared to last time—how is it? Any improvement?”

Lizhu rested her fevered head against the bedding. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, her gaze hazy and unfocused, and she nodded vaguely.

…Just like this, she was already so pitiful, so endearing.

Pei Zhaoye fixed his eyes on her for a long while.

Suddenly, he struck the bed with a not-too-heavy punch.

Tomorrow he must kill enough in one go!

•—–٠✤٠—–•

When Lizhu woke the next day, not only was Pei Zhaoye no longer in her tent, but upon asking around, she learned that just as dawn had barely broken, Pei Zhaoye and Wu Yan had each led their men into the mountains.

“…It was supposed to be only a hunt, but word is there are still remnants of Li Da’s troops deep in Yanshan. General Pei and Commander Wu discussed it and decided to take the chance to scout their numbers, so they set out before daylight.”

So said Chang Jun.

Lizhu nodded in understanding.

With both Pei Zhaoye and Wu Yan present, these matters did not fall under her concern. What she needed to worry about now was the army’s pay.

Last night, together with Xuan Ying and Gu Bing’an, she had calculated that, adding in the chest of silver Pei Zhaoye had taken from the Tan family, the current funds and supplies could sustain the refugee army through this winter.

However, Luoyang had yet to give a definite notice on how much military pay would be sent.

Lizhu thought for a moment and asked Chang Jun, “How many days remain until the first day of next month?”

Chang Jun said, “There should be… five days left.”

Lizhu took up a wooden tablet and marked it.

Two days until Pei Zhaoye’s birthday, and five days until the famed Monthly Appraisal of the Southern Yong.

Xuan Ying, seeing the look in her eyes, said, “The princess wishes to go to the Monthly Appraisal in Suinan Prefecture?”

Lizhu smiled and gave a soft hum of assent.

The Xue Clan’s home, Suinan Prefecture, was a great and prosperous prefecture.

It gathered scholars and noble families alike; that renowned scholar Xie Ji, who was on good terms with the Grand Preceptor, resided there as well.

The Xie Clan was a family of classical learning. Their younger generations had established a lecture hall, opening the forum on the first day of each month—not only to critique poetry, prose, and painting, but also to evaluate the famous figures of the time.

There had been unknown men who, after being praised by the Xie Clan’s forum, leapt overnight into fame; the scale of its influence was clear to see.

As Xuan Ying presented her the morning meal, she sighed with admiration:

“The princess’s calligraphy, inherited from the late emperor, is unmatched in this age. Were it not that a lady’s ink works cannot leave the inner chambers, the princess’s renown would be no less than that of the great masters of the time…”

Lizhu seemed lost in thought.

When she had once been unable to leave Luoyang, she had begged the Grand Preceptor to secretly take her brush and ink to the Monthly Appraisal. After being reviewed by the Xie brothers, her work had indeed caused a brief sensation.

But that was all it amounted to.

With war raging across the land, such flowery, poetic pursuits had become soft and weightless—without the slightest value in this world.

Her concern for the Monthly Appraisal now was simply because, when the gentry of Suinan gathered there, it would be an opportunity to win over the noble clans.

If the court’s military pay and supplies proved insufficient, they would have to find ways to raise their own.

Lizhu had seen Pei Zhaoye in battle; even for one blessed as a heaven-sent general, without adequate rations and pay, victory was difficult. In her previous life, Pei Zhaoye had suffered greatly for this very reason.

It had seemed as though he was only a step away from reclaiming the northern lands, yet by the time he reached that step, his strength and life had already been exhausted.

So he could only stand and gaze upon that stretch of mountains and rivers—powerless to take them back.

A general isolated and unaided could not win a war.

They had to secure more allies.

From dawn until dusk that day, while Pei Zhaoye and his men entered Yanshan, Lizhu spent the entire day in the camp practicing her calligraphy.

Not until dusk did someone come to report that General Pei and Commander Wu had returned and added, after a pause—both of them were covered in blood.

Lizhu hurried out at once to check.

Wu Yan looked somewhat weary, but Pei Zhaoye was filled with killing intent from head to toe.

Fortunately, upon questioning, she learned that the blood wasn’t theirs; neither had suffered any serious wounds.

Wu Yan said, “…Commander Pei entered the mountain from the east, and we from the south. We hadn’t expected Commander Pei to encounter the remaining troops of Li Da within Yanshan. Fortunately, Commander Pei fought bravely, charged straight through with fifty men, and wiped out Li Da’s leftover forces. Now, Yanshan finally belongs entirely to us.”

Wu Yan glanced at Pei Zhaoye.

“However, as for the hunt itself, the Hongye Army gained nothing this time. But to have captured Yanshan is still a great achievement. As for how to judge victory or defeat, we leave it to the princess’s decision.”

Gu Bing’an brought clear water for everyone to wash away the blood. Once Lizhu confirmed that Pei Zhaoye was unhurt, she withdrew her gaze.

“The hunt, of course, is to be judged by numbers, while the annihilation of the remnant troops is another merit altogether. Each is counted separately. Commander Wu, you have also worked hard today.”

Wu Yan nodded, raising his hand and saying:

“Then, from this hunt, the seventy sheep we brought down—let’s add them to everyone’s meal tonight… Princess?”

He seemed to see the princess’s figure sway slightly.

“…How many?”

Wu Yan hesitated for a moment:

“Seventy. Many were livestock raised by those remnants for food. We know well the areas where they grazed their herds, so we hunted them all at once. Is there something wrong?”

Before Lizhu could speak, Pei Zhaoye, who had just finished wiping the blood from his face, lifted his eyes and said:

“No problem.”

He smiled sincerely. “Commander Wu, this time, you’ve earned my full respect.”

Wu Yan nodded slightly, not fully understanding.

Lizhu: “……”

That night, bonfires were lit, and the entire army was busy slaughtering sheep.

Having only just come out of famine, not a single part of the sheep—from the meat to the entrails—would be wasted. The Yanshan Army was in charge of butchering, while Pei Zhaoye had the Hongye Army handle the offal.

When Lizhu went down to the stream below, she indeed saw Pei Zhaoye crouching by the water with a wooden bucket in hand, cheerfully washing something.

“…I heard you spent the whole afternoon practicing calligraphy today? What made you suddenly want to do that?”

Lizhu’s expression was complicated. She moved over slowly and told him about the Monthly Appraisal.

“There’s something like that?”

Pei Zhaoye rolled up his sleeves. The water splashed over his wheat-colored arms as he gave a cold laugh:

“The well-fed nobles really have endless amusements, building a stage out of gossip and turning it into such a grand affair.”

Then, Pei Zhaoye suddenly thought of something.

“This Monthly Appraisal… a lot of people attend?”

“Of course. Which of the famous scholars in Suinan Prefecture wouldn’t join in on the excitement?”

Pei Zhaoye fell into thought.

Many people.

And all of them were gossip-loving scholars.

If that Young Master Xue…

Lizhu had no idea what trouble he was scheming. She could hardly help noticing what he was washing.

“You… you actually brought all of these back?”

“Mm. Seventy in total, not one missing. I asked around—these need to be soaked in herbs, then dried. If handled properly, one can be used five or six times.”

“…That complicated?”

Lizhu squatted by the water, wanting nothing more than to bury her head in it.

But afraid someone passing by might see, she could only keep watch for him, her expression guilty and furtive—clearly someone who had never done anything this suspicious before.

“…Can’t you hurry up a little? What if someone sees?”

Her voice was very quiet.

Pei Zhaoye glanced at her, a teasing smile in his eyes.

“No helping it. The princess is so fond of cleanliness, how could I not make sure they’re perfectly clean?”