"Crackle."
The flame licked at the wick, and soon the dim room gradually brightened.
In that flickering light, Pei Ying saw a long, distorted shadow creeping toward her from the side—sinister and silent, like a stalking predator.
She knew he was approaching from behind the screen.
Pei Ying's breath hitched slightly. After a pause, she slowly lifted her head. "You... why have you come?"
The man stood beside the screen, a few steps away from the bed. The lantern behind him cast his face in shadow, obscured by the carved screen, leaving only his eyes gleaming like a lone wolf in the night.
Pei Ying's heart trembled.
Huo Tingshan stepped forward. "My lady is unwell. I’ve come to deliver medicine."
At his approach, Pei Ying tensed, but upon hearing he remembered her discomfort, her unease ebbed away like a receding tide.
So he hadn’t forgotten. Then surely he wouldn’t do anything tonight.
Her rigid spine relaxed.
Huo Tingshan sat at the edge of her bed without hesitation, then produced a small silver box from seemingly nowhere.
The box was no larger than half a lady’s palm, round and bottle-shaped, its lid and body intricately engraved and studded with colored gemstones.
Pei Ying frowned. "Medicine?"
Huo Tingshan hummed in affirmation and opened the box.
Indeed, it was medicine—an ointment, though its vivid green hue made it look more like paint. Only the faint herbal scent confirmed its purpose.
Despite the awkwardness, Pei Ying forced a smile. "Thank you, General."
Yet after her gratitude, he remained seated on her bed, showing no intention to leave.
Her brow twitched. "It’s late, and you must be weary from the banquet. Shouldn’t you retire for the night?"
Huo Tingshan’s tone was earnest. "Rest can wait. My negligence caused your discomfort—I cannot leave until I ensure the medicine is applied."
Pei Ying’s fingers tightened on the brocade quilt before loosening. She reached out for the silver box.
Huo Tingshan let her take it.
Once it was in her hands, she feigned composure. "I’ll apply it later."
Leaning lazily against the bedpost, he countered, "I’ll leave once you’ve finished."
"Huo Tingshan!" Pei Ying’s cheeks flushed with indignation.
He smirked, oddly accustomed to her using his full name when vexed. "Calling for my help? I don’t mind assisting."
He reached for the box, but Pei Ying dodged, scooting deeper into the bed.
"No need! I’ll do it myself," she insisted.
Huo Tingshan withdrew his hand, amused by how she huddled like a startled rabbit, her clear almond eyes wary.
"Very well. Take your time," he said, making no move to press further.
Pei Ying waited, but he simply watched, true to his word—he wouldn’t leave until she complied.
"My lady?"
She ignored him.
"You have one minute. If the medicine remains untouched by then, I’ll take over," Huo Tingshan declared, leaning against the bedpost.
Pei Ying shot him a fleeting glance before lowering her eyes. After a pause, she slowly pulled the quilt over her lap.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional rustle beneath the covers.
The stillness was suffocating.
As the minute neared its end, Pei Ying withdrew her hand, fingertips tinged green. She waved them before him. "Done. You may go now."
Huo Tingshan said nothing. Instead, he leaned in, retrieved the box, and reopened it.
Pei Ying’s fingers turned icy. "What are you doing?"
In one swift motion, he pulled her into his arms, trapping her against his chest while inspecting the ointment.
The lid popped open.
Earlier, the medicine had been filled to the brim. Now, though still full, a shallow dip marred its surface.
Huo Tingshan interlaced his fingers with hers, forcing her hand flat.
Pei Ying’s pulse spiked. She tried to pull free, but his grip was unyielding.
Guiding her hand over the box, he hovered her fingers above the indentation—a perfect match.
She had barely skimmed the surface, just enough to deceive him.
"Seems my lady requires assistance after all," Huo Tingshan mused darkly.
Pei Ying shivered. Pressed against him, his warmth seeped into her, dizzying as a furnace.
"I’ll do it properly this time," she bargained, squirming.
Huo Tingshan pinned her to the bed. "Waiting for you would leave the medicine untouched till dawn."
Spotting a hair ribbon nearby, he smirked and wound it around her wrists. "Be still. Neglecting such an injury risks lasting harm."
"I wasn’t neglecting it! Let me go—I’ll do it myself!" Her struggles faltered as he secured the ribbon to the bed’s carved headboard.
"Huo Tingshan, how dare you!"
He tied a firm knot. "I gave you a chance. But deception forfeits trust. Once the medicine’s applied, you’re free."
Bound and helpless, Pei Ying’s defiance wavered. "General, I won’t lie again. Release me, and I’ll tend to it properly."
From "Huo Tingshan" to "General" in a breath—she knew when to yield.
But he shook his head. "No. I don’t trust you."
Seeing no compromise, Pei Ying thrashed anew.
Huo Tingshan watched the restless beauty beside him, his gaze deepening.
When he arrived, she was about to retire for the night, her hair ribbon already undone, her dark tresses cascading loosely. She had hastily thrown on only an inner robe and trousers, likely in her flustered state, as the sash of her robe remained untied.
After struggling fruitlessly against the restraints binding her wrists, the collar of her inner robe had slipped open, revealing a glimpse of the embroidered peony-patterned undergarment beneath.
Perhaps because it was nighttime and she had loosened it for comfort, the ties of the undergarment were somewhat slack. As she twisted onto her side, attempting to prop herself up with her elbows, the plush, snow-white curves of her bosom were nearly exposed.
The faint glow from the screen slipped in, partially obscured by the bedpost and its gauzy drapery, casting only a soft, muted light. The voluptuous beauty on the bed seemed bathed in vivid contrasts—her crimson lips, porcelain skin, the blue silk wrapped around her wrists, and the dark cascade of her hair.
At this moment, she resembled a bewitching spirit born of the night, one who would vanish without a trace after ensnaring hearts.
The elusive fragrance that had lingered in the air that night seemed to resurface. Huo Tingshan’s fingers twitched slightly, the phantom sensation of silken skin slipping from his grasp.
Pei Ying heard a crisp sound, like the clinking of a small silver vial against its lid. Her pupils contracted slightly, and she abandoned formalities entirely. "Huo Tingshan, what do you plan to use to apply it?"
"Physician Feng was negligent and did not prepare any tools," Huo Tingshan replied.
Pei Ying nearly fainted at his words. "No, you can’t use your hands. They’re dirty."
Huo Tingshan’s brows furrowed. She was criticizing him again. Rarely bothering to explain himself, he said, "They’re clean. I washed them before coming."
Yet Pei Ying had no faith in his hygiene habits and countered with flawless logic, "They’re dirty. You don’t even change the bedding afterward, nor do you wash properly. That’s just filthy."
Huo Tingshan: "I wiped them."
Pei Ying remained thoroughly disgusted. "You need to wash. Wiping isn’t enough, and you didn’t even do that thoroughly."
Huo Tingshan fell silent for a moment before rising from the bed.
Pei Ying knew he was going to wash his hands. Seizing the opportunity, she wriggled forward, intending to undo the hair ribbon binding her wrists.
The dim light inside the bed made it difficult to see. Pei Ying studied the knot for a while before finally discerning its structure.
With her hands immobilized, she leaned in, attempting to tug one end of the ribbon loose with her teeth. But the strands were tightly pressed together, and once she got close, she could no longer see. After several failed attempts, she still hadn’t managed to grasp it.
"Stop struggling, Madam. I’ll untie you shortly."
Every footstep that drew nearer sent Pei Ying’s heart trembling like cotton floss caught in a storm, tossed into disarray.
A shadow loomed over her, enveloping the figure on the bed completely.
......
Xin Jin had just begun her monthly courses that day, so she took a little longer than usual to tend to her personal needs. Once everything was settled, she prepared to enter Pei Ying’s chambers as usual to collect the laundry.
Her hand pressed against the door, she had only pushed it open a crack when she heard an unusual sound from within.
A muffled moan, trembling with suppressed emotion.
Xin Jin hesitated. Madam was always silent when asleep, never making a sound.
Could she be having a nightmare?
Just as Xin Jin was about to step inside to check, a low, amused sigh reached her ears.
"It is a bit swollen. You’ve endured much, Madam."
Xin Jin recoiled as if burned, grateful she had paused. Otherwise, she might have interrupted something she shouldn’t have.
She carefully closed the door and retreated to the courtyard entrance to stand guard.
Inside the room.
"Madam must have been a deity in your past life, presiding over the rivers and lakes of the nine provinces, commanding the winds and rains, dispensing blessings at your whim."
Pei Ying lay on the bed, eyes tightly shut. At his words, her lashes fluttered even more violently, and she wished she could sew his mouth shut with a needle.
"Huo Tingshan, stop spouting nonsense!"
With her vision blocked, her other senses sharpened, as though deliberately amplifying every sensation.
It was unbearable.
So Pei Ying opened her eyes again.
The bedchamber was dim, most of the light blocked by the figure seated beside the bed. She could see the vast shadow he cast—like a towering mountain or a coiled dragon with a sinuous tail.
No one spoke. The room was filled only with the rhythm of two breaths—one slightly hurried, the other deep and measured.
Beneath the breathing, there were other faint sounds, like sticky rice cake slipping into syrup, then being lifted again, trailing delicate, clinging strands.
Pei Ying couldn’t help but urge, "Are you done yet?"
Huo Tingshan: "Done."
Pei Ying tensed, realizing he had lied. "Huo Tingshan."
"Don’t be angry, Madam. It’s truly done this time. Just relax." Huo Tingshan slowly withdrew his right hand, then used his left to adjust her trousers back into place.
Only when she felt the fabric settle properly did Pei Ying exhale, the heat in her face and ears finally subsiding slightly. She turned her head, about to demand he untie the ribbon, when she caught him studying his hand.
His gaze was lowered, scrutinizing it with the focus of a scholar examining a map.
The light from the bedside fell across his fingers, revealing a faint green tint—though far paler than the ointment from the silver vial.
Sensing her stare, Huo Tingshan lifted his eyes, a knowing glint in them as he wiggled his fingers at her. "Now you see, Madam, it wasn’t that I wished to take my time. The medicine simply required thorough application."
......
Thud.
The door slammed shut behind him, nearly hitting Huo Tingshan in the face.
He stood motionless for a breath before turning away.
Xin Jin, startled by the noise, looked up and accidentally met Huo Tingshan’s gaze.
The man who had emerged from the room had already schooled his expression back into its usual stern authority, once more the formidable Lord of Huo Prefecture.
Xin Jin quickly lowered her head, not daring to look further. It was impossible to reconcile this man with the one who had uttered that amused sigh moments ago.
Huo Tingshan headed to his study.
Pei Ying had expected to toss and turn all night, but surprisingly, she didn’t.
The ointment, whatever herbs it contained, was gentle yet effective. Her discomfort soon faded entirely. Nestled in the brocade quilts, the beautiful woman’s brow smoothed, and she drifted into peaceful slumber.
......
The morning sun rose, rousing the quiet town with its light. As always, Meng Ling'er woke early.
Life was different now—she had a tutor and lessons to attend. Though she missed lazy mornings, she much preferred this new routine.
But today was unlike the others. When she saw Pei Ying in her room, Meng Ling'er blinked in surprise. "Mother, why are you here?"
She had to rise early for studies, but her mother had no such obligations, so they rarely shared breakfast.
"It’s been too long since we ate together, so I came," Pei Ying said with a smile.
A twinge of guilt pricked at her.
Only she knew the real reason—she was hiding from Huo Tingshan, afraid he’d drag her off to dine with him.
The little girl, unaware of the truth, was delighted and immediately asked Shui Su to prepare the meal.
The morning meal had not yet been served, so Pei Ying idly glanced around and noticed that compared to her last visit, the little girl’s room had acquired even more items.
Among them were numerous clothing chests, tables laden with jewelry boxes, and an assortment of peculiar trinkets on display.
Meng Ling'er blushed slightly and pointed at the oddities on the table. "Mother, these were given by the tutors."
She then gestured toward the piles of jewelry boxes. "These were sent by Captain Chen. He said there wasn’t space at your place and asked if they could be stored here. I… thought they were quite lovely, so I agreed."
Meng Ling'er nervously peered at Pei Ying. "Mother, did I take too much?"
Pei Ying was aware of this.
Most of these jewels had come from the treasure vault of the Dream Fulfillment Master. After Huo Tingshan had slipped a yellow jade bracelet onto her wrist, he had also ordered entire shelves of jewelry boxes to be delivered.
Uninterested in such adornments, she had declined when Chen Yuan offered them, only for him to later send them to her daughter instead.
But since the girl delighted in them, she saw no harm in letting her keep them.
"It’s fine. You may play with them as you like," Pei Ying said, gently patting Meng Ling'er’s head.
Mother and daughter shared breakfast, after which Meng Ling'er departed for her studies.
Chang’an.
As the imperial capital, Chang’an’s splendor seemed eternal. Here, beneath the Son of Heaven’s gaze, no matter how desolate or famine-stricken the lands beyond might be, the city remained a realm of opulence—where noble carriages and adorned steeds never ceased their flow.
"Shengjing Pavilion" ranked among Chang’an’s foremost treasure houses, housing the rarest and most exquisite curiosities.
Items deemed insufficiently unique, refined, or striking—even those forged of gold and studded with gems—were unworthy of entry.
Only treasures of exorbitant value, each priced beyond what common folk could save in years, even decades, of frugality, graced its halls. Some were one-of-a-kind, never to be replicated.
Yet despite their staggering prices, Shengjing Pavilion thrived, a favored haunt of the elite.
Silver meant little to them; they sought the extraordinary, the unconventional—mundanity held no appeal.
"Shopkeeper Rong, has the pavilion any new arrivals today?" called a young woman adorned with a white jade bracelet.
Her silk dress was of the finest weave, surpassing even the finery of county gentry—yet she was merely a maidservant of a noble household.
Shopkeeper Rong recognized her and smiled. "Young Miss Wan Jiang, your timing is impeccable. We do indeed have a new offering today."
Wan Jiang, dispatched by her mistress to inquire, brightened. "What is it? Show me quickly. If it suits, my lady will surely purchase it."
Shopkeeper Rong gestured. "This way, please."
No sooner had he spoken than another entered—a servant from a different noble house, similarly seeking news of recent acquisitions.
The shopkeeper ushered both into an inner chamber.
Shengjing Pavilion’s layout was deliberate: the most prominently displayed seasonal treasures adorned the front, while deeper within lay the rarest prizes.
Inside, Shopkeeper Rong retrieved a wooden box from a cabinet, his eyes alight with fervor. "This is today’s novelty—the Pei Family’s scented soap. This box belongs to the 'Floral Collection,' specifically the peony variant."
The box was finely crafted, its surface etched with lifelike peony motifs dusted in silver powder, and a stylized "Pei" character engraved at the corner.
Yet to the discerning eyes of the two maids, such a container was merely passable—hardly exceptional.
"Shopkeeper Rong, is this scented soap truly as remarkable as you claim? It seems rather ordinary," Wan Jiang remarked.
The shopkeeper chuckled. "Patience. This is a treasure beyond compare. For now, purchases are unrestricted, but in a few days, only one hundred fifty boxes will be sold daily—no more."
The maids exchanged glances.
"Unrestricted purchases?"
"Later limited to a hundred fifty daily?"
Rarity dictated value. If this "soap" was so plentiful, how could it be deemed precious?
Shopkeeper Rong, however, only smiled wider. "The Pei Family’s soap is consumable. Once used, it’s gone. Observe, young misses."
He brought forth a small silver basin and, under their watchful eyes, opened the peony box. Nestled within yellow silk lay a white, jade-like block.
As they leaned in, the maids saw intricate carvings mirroring the box’s peony design.
With great care, Shopkeeper Rong lifted the soap, dipped it into water, and rubbed it between his palms. Almost instantly, rich lather bubbled forth.
After a brief demonstration, he dried and returned the soap to its box. "The Pei Family’s soap replaces soapberries. It cleanses skin and fabric with ease, leaving behind a fresh, enduring fragrance."
The maids were enthralled.
"May I try it, Shopkeeper Rong?"
"I’d like to as well."
He refused without hesitation.
Murong Shu had declared this sample his to keep after demonstrations. How could he let others waste it?
Wan Jiang sniffed the soap and indeed caught its pleasant aroma—far superior to the pungent soapberry solutions. "How much for a box?"
"Ten taels of silver."
"I’ll inform my mistress at once," Wan Jiang declared.
The other maid likewise hurried off to report.
Shopkeeper Rong nodded, pleased.
Wan Jiang served Shangguan Ping'an, the prime minister’s eldest granddaughter.
In the capital’s elite circles, Shangguan Ping'an was legendary—a jewel of her lineage, doted upon since birth, whose luxuries outshone even those of lesser princesses.
A Shengjing Pavilion regular, she spent lavishly. Upon hearing her maid’s account, Shangguan Ping'an promptly produced fifty taels. "Buy five boxes first. Let’s see if they’re truly as wondrous as claimed."
Similar scenes soon unfolded across noble households:
"A new treasure at Shengjing Pavilion? Truly that remarkable? Fetch me a box."
"Ten taels isn’t dear. I’ll take two to test."
"What? They’ll impose limits soon? Then bring three."
"The Pei Family’s soap? Who is this 'Pei'? Why have I never heard of them?"
Servants bearing silver flocked to Shengjing Pavilion. One by one, Shopkeeper Rong accepted payment and handed over exquisitely packaged boxes.
The servant who had retrieved the soap returned to report his task completed. Soon after, the most influential nobles who favored Shengjing Pavilion found themselves in possession of elegant wooden boxes.
To their discerning eyes, such finely crafted boxes were merely passable—nothing particularly striking. But when they opened them—
Shangguan Ping'an took out the soap inside, finding it slightly firm yet smooth to the touch, almost like a balm. She brought it to her nose and inhaled lightly.
Though the soap had yet to touch water, its fragrance was already noticeable up close. The intricate peony design on its surface bloomed vividly, so lifelike it seemed ready to burst forth.
"Milady, the water is ready," Wan Jiang brought over a basin.
Shangguan Ping'an dipped the soap into the water, and as she rubbed it between her hands, bubbles began to form.
"How extraordinary!" Her eyes widened in delight. She lifted her hands from the water and sniffed again.
A delicate aroma lingered, smooth and rich against her skin.
"Wan Jiang, quickly—go buy thirty more boxes. No, make it twenty for now," Shangguan Ping'an amended her order.
Her household was large—grandparents, parents, younger siblings, uncles, and aunts. At first, she hadn’t thought ten taels per box was too expensive, but after tallying up the number of people, she winced at the cost.
If she couldn’t afford it all at once, she’d buy in batches.
At Shengjing Pavilion, Shopkeeper Rong beamed as he watched the wealthy servants return that very same day—some even replaced by young noble ladies and gentlemen who had come in person.
All of them were here for the soap.
They shopped as if stocking up for a siege, hauling in chests of silver and leaving with boxes of soap.
Word spread like wildfire.
Before long, Pei’s soap had taken flight, sweeping through all of Chang’an.
What, you’ve never heard of Pei’s soap?
How dreadfully outdated. If you don’t even know about this novelty, how can you show your face at our tea gatherings?
What, you’re still using soapberries instead of Pei’s soap?
Oh, you poor thing—never even touched it? Someone, fetch my soap! Let me enlighten you today.
What? Pei’s soap is now limited? Only a hundred and fifty boxes a day?
Shopkeeper Rong, explain yourself! It’s not as if we can’t pay!
To such stormy demands, Shopkeeper Rong could only offer a helpless smile. "My apologies, but this isn’t about unwillingness to sell. The craftsmanship behind Pei’s soap is intricate—far from something that can be made overnight. The supply is simply limited."
The nobles found this explanation somewhat soothing.
If the process was complex, then owning it became a mark of status—something only those of their standing could afford.
As Shopkeeper Rong bid farewell to wave after wave of customers, he marveled inwardly.
As the consignment seller for Pei’s soap, he knew exactly how many boxes had been sold—and just how much silver had been made.
The soap had been brought by Murong Shu. If he recalled correctly, this Murong Shu hailed from Youzhou…
Shopkeeper Rong gazed thoughtfully in the direction of Youzhou.
Jizhou, Governor’s Manor.
When Xin Jin informed Pei Ying that Huo Tingshan had summoned her to his study, her first instinct was refusal—she wasn’t ready to face him yet.
But Xin Jin added, "Madam, the General mentioned it concerns the soap."
Pei Ying paused, realizing then that some time had passed. The first batch of soap must have already been sold in Chang’an, and now there were results to discuss.
Rising from her couch, she made her way to the study.
This was Pei Ying’s first time entering Huo Tingshan’s study. Previously, it had been the office of the Jizhou Governor. Yuan Ding, never one to deny himself comforts, had furnished it elegantly—flooded with sunlight and spacious. A pity it now served Huo Tingshan instead.
Upon entering, she found the vast study occupied by only one man.
Her steps faltered, tension coiling within her.
Ever since that night when he had applied medicine to her wounds, she had avoided him, spending her days with her daughter instead. He seemed aware of her evasion, never forcing an encounter when she declined his invitations.
This was their first meeting since that evening.
"Madam, you’ve arrived. Please, sit."
