“Don’t tell him. I’m pawning this not for military funds, but to give him—”

Before she could finish speaking, seven or eight maidservants and elderly attendants surrounded two noblewomen as they gracefully entered the jewelry shop.

The moment Lizhu saw one of the women, her expression changed.

“…If you want to choose jewelry, just have the shopkeepers send things to the house for selection. For people of our standing, what need is there to come to the shop personally?”

After the older woman finished speaking, the younger woman beside her clung to her arm and said coquettishly:

“How can choosing at home be the same as strolling about and browsing ourselves? Aunt, it’s been so long since you returned to Yedu. I just wanted to accompany you and see how the streets have changed.”

The older woman patted her hand fondly, her eyes full of affection.

“Our Xiwen is still the most filial—not like your cousin, who’s been away in Wanjun for over half a year and only sends a few perfunctory letters…”

Standing behind Lizhu, Xuan Ying recognized the woman, lowered her head, and whispered in surprise to Lizhu:

“Princess, isn’t that…”

Lizhu nodded slowly. Beneath the white veil, her almond eyes watched in calm stillness.

That woman was none other than the wife of the current Minister of State, Tan Jing—Tan Xun’s mother—and a daughter of the Xue family of Suinan, Xue Daorong.

Wanju and Suinan were not far from each other. Twenty years ago, both the Tan and Xue families had already been prominent clans in the region—intermarriage between them was only natural.

Lizhu sat quietly in the corner, watching the aunt and niece strolling leisurely through the shop, chatting idly as they went.

“…Aunt, is it true or false that Cousin’s engagement to Princess Qinghe has been called off?”

Xue Daorong’s gaze flickered; soon, a faint smile rose on her face.

“The princess is a talented woman of the age, and also born of noble blood. I heard she came here recently to form some kind of refugee army… So capable—our Tan family’s temple is too small to house such a great Buddha.”

She turned and brushed a lock of Xue Xiwen’s hair aside.

“Aunt doesn’t hope for Yuhui to climb any lofty branches. If Yuhui’s future wife could be as obedient and sensible as our Xiwen, Aunt would be overjoyed.”

Hearing that in her aunt’s eyes she was even better than the princess, Xue Xiwen’s smile deepened at the corners of her lips.

Xue Xiwen said: “Could it be that the princess even looks down on someone as outstanding as Cousin—graceful and refined as jade and orchid? I wonder what kind of consort she’s searching for. If someone more exceptional than Cousin exists, perhaps he wouldn’t even care to marry the princess…”

“Do not speak nonsense.”

Xue Daorong interrupted coolly, picking up a bejeweled hairpin and examining it, her tone carrying subtle meaning:

“Princess Qinghe never learned women’s work since childhood; she went to attend lectures at the Lantai Academy instead. So unconventional, refusing to mingle with us women of the inner chambers—perhaps her ambitions lie elsewhere. Maybe she intends to compete with her brother.”

As she spoke, she casually tossed the hairpin aside, open disdain showing on her face.

Her husband hid things from her, her son hid things from her—did they think she couldn’t guess?

That Princess Qinghe, her birth mother was nothing but a laundry maid! To be matched with her Yuhui was already fortune bestowed by having an emperor for a father!

And yet the princess dared to look down on Yuhui, forcing him to threaten his family into canceling the engagement.

Yuhui was useless too.

So many noble girls in the world, why must he fall for that little wench?

If only Yuhui could be married into her own natal family…

Xue Daorong looked toward the girl beside her.

Though Xiwen’s looks were not as striking as Princess Qinghe’s, in family background and temperament—how was she in any way inferior?

Why was it that the Tan family refused to accept Xiwen as their daughter-in-law?

“Oh my, Third Young Lady, what an honor to have you visit today!”

The shopkeeper, holding a jewelry box, came out grinning from ear to ear. His fawning smile was so eager one might think he’d bow and knock his head to the God of Wealth right there on the floor.

He said, “Third Young Lady, you’ve come at just the right time. I just received a golden hairpin, top-quality work! I’d say its craftsmanship is not inferior even to that from the palace. I was just planning to save it for you.”

Xue Daorong didn’t believe there could be any truly fine jewelry in Yedu.

But when she saw the shopkeeper carrying the box toward the corner, his gaze landing on the figure in the white veiled hat, she suddenly noticed that the maid standing beside that woman carried herself with uncommon poise—not at all like a servant from an ordinary household.

Lizhu, however, felt no worry that Xue Daorong might recognize either her or Xuan Ying.

This Madam Xue was a minister’s wife, and only had the chance to enter the palace during court banquets. When Lizhu left the palace to view flowers or go on outings in Luoyang City, she would only summon Tan Xun to accompany her—she would never visit the Tan residence alone.

Xue Xiwen said, “What hairpin is that? Let me see! If I like it, there will be a handsome reward!”

The shopkeeper was just about to take the hairpin from Lizhu’s hand when she turned her wrist slightly, evading his touch.

Lizhu asked, “The Third Young Lady of the Xue clan of Suinan?”

Xue Xiwen said, “That’s me. Is this golden hairpin yours?”

Even from a distance, Xue Xiwen’s eyes went wide with amazement.

The golden hairpin was shaped like a flowering tree, its form resembling a deer’s head. When it swayed, the golden leaves trembled and shimmered brilliantly—one could easily imagine how beautiful it would look pinned in a woman’s hair.

“How much?” Xue Daorong said calmly. “We’ll take this golden hairpin. Name your price.”

Through the white veil, Lizhu fixed her gaze on Xue Daorong.

This noblewoman, just past forty, was not particularly beautiful. Because she had spent years accustomed to commanding others, deep lines etched her brows, and when her sharp eyes swept across someone, it gave an intensely uncomfortable feeling of being scrutinized.

It was no illusion. Lizhu had known in her previous life that this former mother-in-law of hers was an extremely difficult person to deal with.

Xue Daorong was born to nobility and had only one son, Tan Xun. Yet her son had married a princess. For the rest of her life, she could not act with a mother-in-law’s authority—she even had to bow and greet her own daughter-in-law.

So, from the very beginning of the marriage, Xue Daorong had made things hard for Lizhu.

After Lizhu and Tan Xun wed, Xue Daorong often found excuses to keep Tan Xun confined at the Tan residence.

She also spied on Lizhu for Empress Tan, reporting her every move back to the palace.

The moment Lizhu saw this woman, countless dark and suffocating memories surged through her mind.

Among them, there was one sentence she had once spoken behind Lizhu’s back—one that Lizhu could never forget.

Beneath the white veiled hat, Lizhu’s chest rose and fell, her eyes blazing with fury.

But the two women before her could not see it.

After a long pause—when they nearly thought this person had changed her mind and decided not to sell the golden hairpin—they finally heard her say:

“Seven hundred gold. Not a coin less.”

A short while later, Lizhu stormed out of the jewelry shop, clutching her pitiful payment.

From the sound of her footsteps, Xuan Ying could hear her reluctance.

“If the princess truly can’t bear to part with it, why sell it at all? Even if you want to buy a birthday gift for General Pei, you can’t be that short of funds.”

Lizhu kicked a pebble by the roadside with force.

“…Who told them to actually pay seven hundred gold! That’s seven hundred gold! Enough for any birthday gift—and still plenty left over… If I’d known, I should’ve asked for eight hundred! They probably would’ve bought it all the same.”

Gu Bing’an sighed.

Their general truly had good fortune.

With the seven hundred gold from selling the golden hairpin, along with the money Pei Zhaoye had given her, the three of them went first to the clothing and footwear stalls to purchase the Yanshan Army’s winter supplies.

After that, Lizhu wandered from the East Market to the West Market, carefully visiting several shops before finally deciding on what to give Pei Zhaoye as his birthday gift.

“—Please have it delivered to this post station.”

Lizhu left the address on the counter. The shopkeeper glanced at it and said:

“Alright… This item is the treasure of our store. May I ask if the lady intends it as a gift for her father or brother at home, or for her husband?”

Lizhu’s voice was barely louder than a mosquito’s:

“…Husband.”

Xuan Ying and Gu Bing’an turned away, pretending not to have heard.

The shopkeeper lifted his head with a smile.

“Rest assured, lady—once your husband receives this, it will surely keep him safe and sound!”

Lizhu smiled brightly.

But before she had taken more than a few steps out of the shop, she caught sight of Pei Zhaoye’s figure.

Amid the bustling crowd, he stood before a clothing shop as though waiting for someone. Lizhu spotted him at once.

He seemed to sense her gaze and turned his head.

“What are you all doing here?”

Gu Bing’an said, “I was just about to ask you that. You didn’t go with the Yanshan Army to scout near the Xue family’s fortress, what are you doing wandering the streets?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. I’m handling business, I—”

Pei Zhaoye had only spoken halfway when he suddenly saw the figure in the snow-white veiled hat rush straight into his arms.

All three onlookers froze.

Xuan Ying opened her mouth but said nothing. Still keeping a serious face, she turned the utterly stunned Gu Bing’an around, forcing him to face the other way with her.

“…Though it’s true that being apart from the princess even half a day feels like living through a year, I thought only a lust-driven man like me would behave so. How is it that even the princess—”

Pei Zhaoye paused, seeming to realize something was wrong in her demeanor, and his teasing tone disappeared.

“What’s the matter?”

Before leaving, she’d been perfectly fine. It hadn’t been long at all, why was she suddenly like this?

Lizhu slowly released him.

“Pei Zhaoye, once everything’s settled, let’s go find a great shaman and have our birth dates and eight characters matched.”

Her words came out of nowhere, making Pei Zhaoye frown.

“I don’t believe in those things, and I don’t believe you do either… Why bring this up all of a sudden? Princess, did someone say something to you?”

Lizhu lowered her head and said nothing.

Of course she didn’t believe in it either.

Only—

A year after Pei Zhaoye’s death in her previous life, at a palace banquet, she had walked along the long palace corridor and faintly caught the familiar scent of bergamot—only to be stopped by someone.

She heard Xue Daorong say:

“Her mother died so strangely. After you married her, you’ve met nothing but misfortune, and now even that Pei Yinzhi has died violently outside. Maybe she’s the one bringing the curse, yet you still dare to seek her out?”

Her steps had faltered. At that time, Lizhu had only stared at her own solitary shadow, without turning back.

The scent of bergamot had slowly faded away.

Lizhu pulled herself from the memory and looked at the man before her, murmuring softly:

“What if… I truly bring misfortune…”

The hand holding hers suddenly tightened.

“Bring misfortune to what?”

He lifted the edge of her veiled hat slightly. Lizhu raised her head and met a pair of eyes filled with a smiling glimmer.

“Afraid you’ll curse me? Then next time we have someone read our fates, I think my features… no matter how you look at them, must be those of a man destined to bring prosperity to his wife.”

Lizhu gazed at him, saying nothing.

A moment later, from behind came Xuan Ying’s startled voice:

“Chang Jun! What are you—”

Pei Zhaoye turned his eyes toward the shop, and Lizhu followed his gaze.

That glance made Lizhu’s soul almost leave her body.

“Chang Jun! What’s happened to you!”

She stared wide-eyed at the little eunuch before her—now dressed in women’s attire, with rouge on his cheeks, his figure graceful and his face delicate as jade.

How…

How was he dressed like this? He truly looked like a small beauty whose gender could not be told at a glance.

Especially with Danzhu beside him, dressed in men’s clothes and standing carelessly—the contrast made Chang Jun’s fair skin and refined features seem all the more striking.

Pei Zhaoye covered his lips and turned away, laughing for quite some time before taking Lizhu’s hand.

“Let’s go.”

His brows and eyes carried a smile; without looking back, he held her hand—his palm broad and burning hot.

“To the Xue family’s fortress. Let’s deliver to their Second Young Master the little beauty he’s been longing for.”