Strictly speaking, this person’s name was Pei Shao, courtesy name Yinzhi. Those close to him mostly called him by his courtesy name. She, upon opening her mouth, called him Pei Yinzhi directly—it must mean they shared quite a close relationship.
Only…
Graceful and intelligent? Talented and brilliant?
Which of those two words did that dog of a man, Pei Yinzhi, deserve?
He quietly looked at Lizhu.
“Oh? And what’s your relationship with him?”
He really knew Yinzhi!
Lizhu’s eyes instantly brimmed with tears.
From last night to this very moment, Lizhu had brushed past the gates of hell several times. Now, upon meeting someone who knew Pei Yinzhi, it felt no different from grasping a life-saving straw.
Even though she knew that at this point in time, Pei Yinzhi did not yet know her.
But even if they were strangers, Lizhu believed Pei Yinzhi would not turn a blind eye to a woman who had fallen into bandits’ hands—he would surely save her.
Tears pattered down. As she wiped them away, Lizhu said:
“I and he…”
Yet then again—
Pei Yinzhi might save her, but this dangerous bandit leader before her might not.
If she honestly said she merely knew Pei Yinzhi, that there was nothing else between them, that Pei Yinzhi didn’t even know who she was—would he still be willing to send someone to take her away?
“I am his fiancée.”
Within two breaths, Lizhu had fabricated an identity out of thin air.
The man lifted his hand to half-cover his face, the base of his thumb pressing against his nose, letting out a short, mocking laugh.
Lizhu finally realized why she had found this man so familiar.
Although the mask covered most of his face—revealing only his thin lips and jawline—Lizhu still recognized a familiar shadow.
When he smiled, he looked a little like Yinzhi.
The difference was, Pei Yinzhi’s smile was warm, gentle, full of deep affection.
This man’s smile, however, was open and unrestrained, laced with mockery—and even a faint trace of dangerous charm, hard to detect yet impossible to ignore.
Could he be related to Pei Yinzhi by blood?
Lizhu’s heart skipped, she hadn’t considered that possibility.
She only knew Pei Yinzhi was the son of the Pei family’s second branch. The main branch had a cousin sister; aside from that, she had never heard him mention any other siblings.
…Perhaps, because this person had become a bandit, he had avoided speaking of him?
It wasn’t impossible.
Lizhu felt a pang of guilt.
But since the lie had already been spoken, there was no taking it back. She could only brace herself and meet that unreadable smile head-on.
“You don’t believe me?”
He turned sideways and closed the chest of gold and silver, then sat on its lid with composure, lifting his gaze.
“Believe you, of course,” he said, lips curving slightly. “I just don’t understand—when a lady’s family is so wealthy, why would she take a liking to the humble Pei clan of Yiling? And even more so… to that plain-looking Pei Yinzhi?”
Plain-looking?
She might not be deaf, but he was definitely blind!
“That’s none of your concern. In any case, I am his fiancée—his destined match!”
Her words rang out, firm and resolute.
The gray-robed man beside them, who knew the inside story, felt his heart leap in alarm. He couldn’t help glancing toward the young mountain lord’s expression.
In Hongye Stronghold, only he and Danzhu knew of the mountain lord’s relationship with the Pei clan of Yiling.
This young lady who claimed to be Pei Yinzhi’s fiancée, her luck truly couldn’t be worse. Of all people to encounter, she had to run into the mountain lord, who had been at odds with Pei Yinzhi since childhood. Now she was doomed…
“That little bastard counts as a damn good match?”
The sudden change in tone caught Lizhu completely off guard.
Then she saw the man sitting on the chest rise to his feet and approach her.
It was their first time facing each other directly.
Lizhu suddenly realized that not only the lower half of his face resembled Pei Yinzhi’s, even his height was nearly the same.
He stood just one step away from her—one step, then another—unhurried, steady, until her entire figure was swallowed by his shadow.
From his body emanated a heat, and an elusive yet inescapable sense of dominance and claim.
That feeling was far too familiar to Lizhu.
As he drew closer, her body trembled slightly—not out of fear, but because a certain premonition, long dormant, had been ignited by his nearness.
“You…”
Lizhu’s lips parted slightly as she stared, dazed, at the young bandit chief slowly removing his mask.
It was as if an unseen hand had brushed away the fog.
Beyond the mist appeared a man’s lightly raised brows, his dark, tranquil eyes, and the faint, teasing curve at the corner of his lips.
That familiar, dazzling air of effortless charm and roguish grace presented itself so vividly before her.
Hooking a finger around the strap of the monkey-faced mask, he drawled lazily: “I look much better than he does, little lady. Marrying him… wouldn’t it be better to marry me?”
For a moment, the world fell utterly silent.
Lizhu’s pale lips moved, but no words came out.
It was instead the bandits gathered by the shallows who reacted first—after a brief stunned pause, they erupted into a rowdy chorus of whistles and jeers.
“Carry her off, carry her off!”
“Our mountain lord’s rich as a king—you won’t lose out, little lady!”
“Eh, what do you mean only that? Our mountain lord’s got the looks of an immortal and a man’s strength like a mule! Follow our lord, little lady, and you’ll never look at another man again for the rest of your life!”
“Why pick another day? Best seize the moment, let’s have the bridal chamber tonight!”
The bandits burst into raucous laughter, leaping about like a flock of monkeys.
The gray-robed scholar’s eyes widened too.
But soon after, he seemed to realize something, and glanced helplessly at the mountain lord.
“……”
Lizhu paid no attention to their noisy clamor.
She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again.
“You—tell me first, what’s your name?”
The girl’s composure caught him off guard.
He looked at her for a moment, half-smiling. “Truly willing to marry me?”
“Your. Name.”
Lizhu asked, one word at a time.
His expression turned slightly strange.
Because the way she looked at him was unusual.
That poised, braced look, as if a single wrong answer from him would bring about some dreadful consequence.
But she was just a delicate, frail little lady—what could she possibly do to him?
Meeting her gaze, he replied with lazy indifference:
“Pei Zhaoye. ‘Zhao’ as in ‘according to order,’ ‘Ye’ as in ‘a wild horse without reins.’ Born poor, with no money to buy books—and even if I weren’t poor, I wouldn’t care to read. No talent, no virtue, turned to the life of a bandit. On the roads, they call me the Mountain Goblin. I am the lord of this Hongye Stronghold on Yushan, its one and only chief.”
Lizhu felt the world spin.
Absurdly, she thought—
Those people in her past life who criticized Pei Yinzhi for being born too low should come hear this self-introduction.
Only then would they realize that his background could indeed sink lower still!
In comparison, at least the Pei family of Yiling had once been prosperous.
Oh, wait—
He wasn’t called Pei Yinzhi anymore.
“Pei Zhaoye.”
Lizhu murmured the name softly, looking at him, then at the bandits around them—each one as unruly and wild as monkeys in the hills.
She nodded. “Pei Zhaoye, so that’s your name.”
Pei Zhaoye gazed at her dazed, faintly bewildered face.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“I…”
“Hey!”
From the forest, Danzhu’s loud voice rang out:
“She’s about to faint!”
No sooner had the words fallen than the dirt-streaked girl pitched forward, straight into the man’s arms.
•—–٠✤٠—–•
The noise faded away with the river’s current, and Lizhu’s consciousness sank into a muddled haze.
Excessive blood loss and fright left her mind unsteady—at one moment she thought she was still fleeing through the crimson woods of Hongye, and the next, as if she had returned to her previous life.
It was winter. Within the inner courtyard of the Princess’s residence, came the soft sound of falling snow.
“Your Highness, this sword stroke bears too much of a craftsman’s rigidity.”
A slender hand broke off a branch of pale pink plum blossoms. Meeting the edge of her sword, snow fell fine as salt.
“When you truly encounter a villain, Your Highness should not think about how to receive his attack, but how to make sure he cannot strike again. For example, like this.”
The plum branch brushed along the blade and looped around Lizhu’s wrist bone, tapping her lightly—not too hard, not too soft.
“Break his wrist so he cannot raise his weapon again. Only then can Your Highness protect yourself. Do you understand? When the female martial instructor arrives later, remember to practice once more.”
Lizhu stared at him.
“You’re not going to court?”
“Leaving in a moment.”
“Oh? Then I’ll go with you. Didn’t they say the border lacks a commander? How about me?”
“Your Highness jests.”
“Jest? I’m not jesting! You make me practice again at night and again in the morning. You’ve trained me so sturdily, you might as well drag me onto the battlefield!”
Lizhu, fuming, rammed her head against him.
He deliberately lost balance, and the two of them tumbled into the snow-covered courtyard. The passing servants covered their mouths, snickering.
“Your Highness, be merciful,” he said, lying beneath her, smiling. “How could I bear to let you go to war? With your courage on the bedchamber’s battlefield, wouldn’t you surrender the moment you saw the enemy?”
Lizhu hastily clapped a hand over his lips, ears flushing crimson, teeth gritted.
“Then why did you hire me a female instructor and make me rise early to train every day?”
“Ah, Your Highness…”
He was pinned beneath her in the snow, yet his long legs bent slightly, quietly locking her in place.
Snowflakes landed on his eyelashes. His eyes—dark, clear, and steady—gazed up at her.
“If everything in this world could go my way, I would never let Your Highness endure the slightest unhappiness. But alas, my power is weak, and I am but a common man, unable to set everything right. There will always be things I cannot make whole.”
“When that time comes, I can only hope Your Highness will protect my wife for me.”
What had she said back then?
Amid the fog of half-dreamed fragments came a woman’s carefree laughter—
—My Yinzhi is a hero unmatched in all the world. As long as you are here, no one can harm me.
•—–٠✤٠—–•·
“All done! Don’t worry,” Danzhu’s voice rang out. “The dirty clothes are changed, the body wiped clean, and the wound dressed by my own hand—not a bit of rot. It’ll be sealed up nicely within seven days!”
Coming out from the inner room, Danzhu seized a water jug and took a long swig.
She had just sat down when, unable to hold it in, she exclaimed with excitement:
“But this little lady is so fair! Her skin’s smooth as silk, there’s not a single scar on her body. She’s like a celestial consort carved from gold and jade. When she wakes, I have to ask what kind of ointment she uses on her skin.”
The gray-robed scholar flushed bright red and hurriedly said, “All right, all right—there’s no need to talk about that.”
“Gu Bing’an, there you go pretending again! Think you’re the only one who knows propriety? If you’re so proper, why are you blushing just because I said her skin’s fair and smooth? What filthy thoughts are you having in that head of yours?”
“I—I… Mountain Lord, do you hear her twisting words like that?”
Gu Bing’an turned indignantly toward the figure under the nine-branched lamp.
That man was reading a letter, one that had been found among the cargo from the canal ship’s chest.
He was completely absorbed, and only when Gu Bing’an’s voice interrupted did he slowly lift his head.
“You do act like quite the gentleman,” he drawled, then glanced toward Danzhu.
“How smooth?”
Danzhu grinned. “Hehe, smoother than that piece of mutton-fat jade we snatched from the rich merchant of Shuozhou last year!”
Gu Bing’an nearly choked on his own fury.
“But I’m guessing this will interest you more,” Pei Zhaoye said, tossing the letter into Gu Bing’an’s arms.
At first, Gu Bing’an didn’t understand, but when he read the words carefully, his hands trembled in shock.
“…A letter of recommendation from Grand Preceptor Zheng Ci to the great scholar Xie Ji?”
The man propped his chin on his hand. “Read the contents more closely.”
“…Pei Yinzhi!?”
Gu Bing’an’s voice shot up an octave.
“What—why him? That’s Xie Ji! The Xie family are the foremost lineage of classical scholars. They’ve taught hundreds of disciples, the entire ceremonial system of Great Yong was drafted by Xie Ji’s grandfather! That sickly Pei Yinzhi, with his conduct—how could he be fit to become Xie Ji’s student? Can he even comprehend what’s taught there?”
Any scholar knew the weight of such a recommendation.
The refined scholar’s eyes reddened, as if he wanted to scrape off the name “Pei Yinzhi” from the letter and replace it with his own.
He shut his eyes and, defeated, shoved the letter toward Danzhu.
“Take it away. I can’t look at it.”
Danzhu laughed. “What, jealous that he’s got such a fine fiancée?”
“I can’t stand people that lucky.”
Danzhu laughed so hard she bent double.
While the two bantered, Pei Zhaoye silently rose and walked toward the inner room.
Lizhu, deep in sleep, was completely unaware that the man who once held her tenderly in dreams was now standing by her bedside—looking down at her from above, his expression unreadable.
She really was Pei Yinzhi’s fiancée.
If she weren’t his fiancée, who else would have been able to obtain such a weighty letter of recommendation for him, or bring chests of precious medicinal herbs across thousands of li just to find him?
But then—why had there been not the slightest whisper from the Pei family?
Gu Bing’an wasn’t wrong.
That dog of a man, Pei Yinzhi, truly had heaven’s luck on his side.
Even with one leg already broken, somehow the Pei family still managed to swindle for him a beautiful woman carrying her own fortune, rare medicines, and a future laid out before him.
Pei Zhaoye half-knelt beside her bed.
The soft orange candlelight wrapped the sleeping girl in its gentle glow.
He had always liked glittering, beautiful things—but even he had to admit that this tear-stained sleeping face seemed more exquisite, more precious than any gold or jade he had ever stolen.
His fingers tapped idly against the edge of the bed.
If he let her go, she would surely walk straight into that demonic pit that was the Pei household, be devoured clean, and still help her devourers without even realizing it.
Propping his cheek on one hand, he quietly pondered how he should deal with her.
That talk of marriage earlier had only been a jest, but he hadn’t expected it to frighten her into fainting.
Was she really so terrified of bandits?
He wasn’t that frightening to look at, was he?
Unwilling to marry him, yet planning to run back to the Pei family, to help that dog Pei Yinzhi apprentice under a great master and become a grand official.
That wouldn’t do.
Perhaps… he should just break her leg as well.
Just as that thought arose, from beneath the brocade robe, a small hand suddenly reached out—and held his.
Lizhu, under the effects of the pain-relieving decoction, drifted half-conscious, unable to tell where she was. Yet the moment her fingers closed around that rough, calloused hand, she knew instantly who it belonged to.
This was her husband.
Without hesitation, she pulled the hand toward her, rubbing her tear-streaked face against the back of it in a messy, childlike gesture.
In his eyes, the candlelight flickered—like a tongue of flame leaping suddenly alive.
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