Pei Ying stood frozen in place, and after a long pause, she managed to utter stiffly, "This isn't appropriate."
Huo Tingshan's lips curled slightly. "Why not? Wasn't it you, my lady, who agreed to it with your own words?"
Pei Ying's jade-like cheeks flushed, but she couldn't muster a retort. In the end, she simply turned away without another word and strode off in the opposite direction down the street.
Huo Tingshan followed leisurely, when suddenly, a faint murmur—almost like a whisper to herself—drifted toward him from ahead.
Had anyone else dared utter such words, they would have already lost their head. But the man merely deepened his smile and continued trailing the beautiful lady at an unhurried pace.
The city bustled with life. Street vendors lined the roads, their stalls offering an array of goods—snacks, trinkets, and more—too numerous to count.
Earlier, Pei Ying had been delighted by the lively market, but now she resembled a wilted cabbage, parched after days without rain.
As she walked, she stopped in front of a teahouse.
A wooden sign reading "A Sip of Fragrant Tea" hung above the entrance, and the rich aroma of tea wafted out, mingling with the chatter of patrons inside.
"Shall we enter, my lady?" Huo Tingshan asked.
Pei Ying ignored him.
Huo Tingshan continued leisurely, "If my lady has no interest in strolling further, perhaps we should return to the Governor's residence for now. We can always revisit the market another day."
Pei Ying pressed her lips together, still refusing to acknowledge him, but she stepped inside the teahouse.
She didn’t request a private room—being alone with him in such a confined space was the last thing she wanted. Instead, she chose a secluded corner in the main hall.
Tea was a beloved indulgence among the people. Those with means frequented teahouses, while those with empty pockets brewed their own crude blends at home with wild leaves and whatever spices they could spare.
In larger towns and cities, teahouses were abundant, and patrons were never in short supply.
It was just past noon, and the teahouse wasn’t crowded. Pei Ying easily secured the corner spot.
At this time, there were no specialized tea-brewing tools—tea was prepared in cauldrons or tripods. Each table in the teahouse had a hollowed-out center where a small cauldron was embedded, ensuring it didn’t protrude too conspicuously above the surface.
Huo Tingshan ordered the most expensive tea set. Recognizing a wealthy guest, the proprietor instructed the servers to prepare it swiftly.
The tea tray arrived promptly. "Your tea is served," the server announced with a smile. "Please enjoy."
The tray was a flat wooden box divided into compartments of varying sizes, each holding tea leaves, spices, and an assortment of flower petals.
Huo Tingshan reached for the tea leaves. "Allow me to brew a cup for you, my lady."
Pei Ying lowered her gaze, watching as he added the leaves and spices one by one.
Nearby, a group of patrons chatted among themselves.
"My cousin works at the docks. He says the Qiu family has practically monopolized all the fishing boats these past few days, buying up every catch. Such extravagance!"
"All of them? Why?"
"Rumor has it they’re hosting a banquet for the newly arrived Governor. Money flows like water for such affairs!"
"The Qiu family is wealthy, no doubt, but when it comes to true opulence, the Xiao and Hua families still reign supreme. Two months ago, when the Xiao patriarch celebrated his sixtieth birthday, the spectacle was staggering—carriages and fine horses clogged the streets, and gifts poured in from every corner. They say even the servants received tips that day worth more than most earn in two months!"
"Ah, some are simply born under a lucky star. Take that third son of the Xiao family—no talent for scholarship or martial arts, but a master of indulgence. A fortnight ago, he drunkenly beat several commoners to death. By rights, he should’ve paid with his life, but who dares touch a Xiao? Their ancestors’ blessings shield them, allowing their descendants to wreak havoc without consequence."
Pei Ying frowned.
The Xiao family—she did recall them.
She remembered the old man, Xiao Xiong, who had spent the entire banquet earlier that day wearing a mask of humility, as if merely attending was a divine favor. His flattery had been more polished than the others’.
She knew they all wore masks, but the contrast was still staggering.
"Hush, don’t speak so freely. If their ears catch wind of this, you’ll regret it."
"Relax. I checked carefully—there’s no one from the Xiao family or their lackeys here today. Besides, they’re all occupied. I heard the new Governor is attending the Qiu family’s banquet, so every household is scrambling to attend. They’ve no time to spare for anything else."
Someone lowered their voice. "The new Governor hails from the northern borderlands. What good can come from those barbaric lands? He’ll likely be worse than the last one. Just wait—soon enough, he’ll drown himself in gold and women."
"Gurgle, gurgle." The water in the small cauldron began to boil.
A veil of steam rose between the two, shrouding Huo Tingshan’s features in a hazy mist.
Pei Ying couldn’t make out his expression, but his steady breathing suggested he wasn’t angered.
After the tea water boiled, Huo Tingshan added some flower petals into it, then suddenly remarked, "Madam's brilliance is unmatched—many men in this world could not hold a candle to you."
Pei Ying paused for a moment before realizing his words were likely in response to her earlier suggestions for improving the government gazette.
"You flatter me, General." Pei Ying sighed inwardly.
It wasn’t that she was particularly clever—she was simply standing on the shoulders of giants, having glimpsed thousands of years beyond his time. This man had seized control of two provinces before even reaching middle age. Had he been born in the modern era, he would undoubtedly have been a formidable figure, stirring up storms wherever he went.
...Or perhaps not. He might have ended up behind bars early on, locked away until he mended his ways.
Amused by her own thoughts, Pei Ying curved her lips into a faint smile.
"Happy now?"
Pei Ying looked up, puzzled.
The man set a teacup before her and teased, "So easily pleased. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you, lest some scoundrel sweet-talks you away with just a few words."
Pei Ying couldn’t resist retorting, "A scoundrel? Is there anyone more wicked than you?"
To her surprise, he nodded, fully accepting the label. "True enough. After all, I’m a barbarian from the north—arson, murder, abducting beautiful women, every crime under the sun. And I’ve no intention of repenting."
Pei Ying: "..." Someone send him to modern prison already.
Though the company left much to be desired, the tea house’s brew was excellent. After leisurely sipping a pot of fragrant tea and listening to the latest gossip circulating the city, Pei Ying grew drowsy.
This was usually the hour she took her afternoon nap, and sleepiness tugged at her.
Noticing her press her fingers to her temples, Huo Tingshan set down his cup. "Let’s return. We’ll come out another day."
The carriage rolled leisurely back to the Governor’s mansion.
Pei Ying retreated to her chambers to rest as soon as they arrived, while Huo Tingshan first ordered the guards to summon his advisors. He strode unhurriedly toward his study, arriving just as the assembled strategists did.
The study doors remained shut for over an hour. When they finally opened again, the previously uncertain advisors emerged one by one, faces alight with satisfaction.
Gongsun Liang stroked his goat-like beard as he stepped out, gazing at the distant sky.
The clouds were soft and white, drifting lazily. For a moment, he thought he saw them form the shape of a fierce tiger—one that, as the wind blew, sprouted enormous feathered wings.
Gongsun Liang smiled.
He had once believed it would take another twenty years. Now, it seemed far less time would be needed. Excellent, truly excellent.
Huo Tingshan remained in the study. As his advisors dispersed, he called to the guards outside, "Fetch Chen—"
He cut himself short, remembering Chen Yuan was currently tutoring Meng Ling’er and likely unavailable. Changing his order, he said, "Have Sha Ying come instead."
The guard bowed. "At once."
Sha Ying arrived promptly, finding only himself and Huo Tingshan in the study. "General, what do you require of me?"
Huo Tingshan said, "The third son of the Xiao family recently beat several commoners to death. Investigate this. Pick one of the victims and fabricate a distant familial connection. Then, find a way to let Xiao Xiong catch wind of it—he’ll come to you on his own."
Sha Ying understood immediately.
The General was making his move against the Xiao family.
Huo Tingshan continued, "That third son surely has no shortage of crimes to his name. After Xiao Xiong approaches you, arrange for a stage to be set up outside the Governor’s mansion. Have ‘commoners’ come periodically to air grievances. Keep it discreet at first. Once we’ve dealt with that Xiao brat and his lot, you may drop a few hints to that old fox Xiao Xiong."
Sha Ying clasped his hands and bowed. "Understood."
With his orders received, Sha Ying departed to carry them out.
Huo Tingshan walked to the cabinet beside the bookshelf, pulling out a short dagger.
Shing. The blade slid free of its sheath, its thin edge gleaming coldly as he tilted it slightly.
"Yuan Ding’s lost his spine in his old age. Can’t even find decent treasures in his entire estate." With a click, Huo Tingshan sheathed the dagger again.
After her lessons, Meng Ling’er headed to Pei Ying’s courtyard, planning to have dinner there. Though her own quarters had a kitchen, only her mother’s residence in the entire mansion had an iron wok—and she was craving stir-fried pork.
"Mother, Instructor Chen said my archery has improved," Meng Ling’er announced cheerfully.
Pei Ying poured her daughter a cup of tea. "My clever girl."
As she praised her, Pei Ying recalled something. "Ah, Ling’er, do you remember that young girl you met the other day? When the General and I attended the Qiu family’s banquet today, I saw her. She asked when you’d be free—she wants to spar with you in archery."
Meng Ling’er wasn’t sure what surprised her more: that her mother had gone to a banquet with him, or that her new friend had reached out just as she’d been wondering how to arrange another meeting.
"What did you tell her, Mother?" Meng Ling’er counted on her fingers. "There are still four days until my day off. What if plans change?"
Pei Ying smiled. "I said I’d ask you first, then let you send someone to arrange it yourself."
Meng Ling'er clung to Pei Ying's arm, "Mother is the best."
Dinner was served shortly after.
Having indulged in a lavish midday meal, Pei Ying had little appetite for rich dishes in the evening.
But while she couldn't eat much, Meng Ling'er devoured everything with gusto. Her martial arts training had recently intensified, boosting her appetite and even making her grow a little taller.
Once Pei Ying stopped eating, Meng Ling'er polished off the stir-fried pork without hesitation.
After dinner, Meng Ling'er lingered with Pei Ying for half an hour before finally leaving. Aside from martial arts, her other classes all had assignments, and she needed to return to complete them.
Once her daughter was gone, Pei Ying settled onto the soft couch by the window.
Twilight had faded, the last faint glow vanishing without a trace as night draped the sky, dotted with scattered stars.
Evening had arrived.
Pei Ying's fingers tightened around the embroidered handkerchief in her hand.
She wished she could treat the matter as something ordinary—something to close her eyes and endure, or perhaps experience gently, like a soft drizzle.
But Huo Tingshan was wild in bed. He neither took direction nor compromise, acting entirely on his own whims.
"Click."
Pei Ying startled, quickly turning toward the sound.
Xin Jin withdrew the flint, meeting Pei Ying's slightly flustered gaze with confusion. "Madam?"
Pei Ying's heart pounded. "...It's nothing."
Xin Jin offered, "Madam, the Shu brocade from the other day has been made into dresses—they're exquisite. Would you like to see them?"
Shu brocade was renowned across the land, so precious that it was said, "A single bolt of fine yellow silk is worth a fortune." After the Silk Road opened, the imperial court sometimes even traded it for warhorses and military supplies.
The Shu brocade used for Pei Ying's dresses had originally been stored in the governor's treasury, all of it later given to her. She had shared some with Meng Ling'er as well.
Pei Ying had no interest in admiring the brocade, but Xin Jin's words led her to another thought.
Changing clothes.
Yes, she should bathe, change, and retire early.
Today was not a day for conflict—it was best to sleep early.
"Xin Jin, I don’t need to see the dresses. I’d like to bathe instead," Pei Ying said, rising from the couch.
Xin Jin felt a pang of regret—the Shu brocade gowns were stunning and would look even more breathtaking on her mistress. But since her lady intended to bathe and rest, she couldn’t argue.
After her bath, Pei Ying climbed into bed and pulled the covers up.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.
Xin Jin gathered Pei Ying’s discarded clothes into a basin, intending to take them to the laundry. As she stepped out of the side chamber, she noticed the main room was already dark—a flicker of surprise passing through her.
Madam had retired much earlier than usual.
Xin Jin carried the basin out and had just shut the door when she spotted a tall figure approaching.
She immediately bowed, assuming he was merely returning to his own quarters—their rooms were adjacent, the doors close together.
But then—
"Is Madam asleep?"
Xin Jin answered promptly, "Yes, she just retired."
The moment the words left her lips, she heard a low chuckle.
Puzzled, she watched as the man strode past her—straight toward Pei Ying’s room.
He knocked once, then pushed the door open without waiting.
"Creak—"
As the door swung wide, moonlight spilled into the room, painting the floor in silver.
That silvery glow illuminated the beautiful woman standing just two paces away, as if dressing her in the moon goddess’s own radiance—her skin like snow, her hair like satin, breathtakingly lovely.
Their eyes met across the short distance.
Pei Ying was stunned.
She had just lain down when she realized—she hadn’t locked the door.
Even if she had, he could force it open if he wished. But after he had explicitly stated his intention to "discuss matters by candlelight" with her, she thought it best to lock it anyway.
So after Xin Jin left, she had gotten up—only for him to arrive at that exact moment.
Today was truly an ill-fated day.
Huo Tingshan stood backlit, his expression unreadable, but the amusement in his voice was unmistakable. "Did Madam come to welcome me? I’m delighted."
Pei Ying frowned. "I wasn’t welcoming you."
"Then what? Guarding against thieves?" He stepped forward.
Pei Ying retreated, her expression complicated. "You’re quite self-aware."
Huo Tingshan entered the room, lighting every lamp before turning back to Pei Ying, who still stood frozen. From his waist, he drew a dagger and placed it on the table.
"Madam, come shave me."
Pei Ying didn’t move. "Your hands and feet are perfectly functional."
"Fine, I won’t shave then." He made as if to take the dagger back.
The memory of that prickly, ticklish pain from last time flashed through Pei Ying’s mind, and her expression shifted. Reluctantly, she stepped forward.
Seeing her approach, Huo Tingshan grinned and set the dagger back down. "Much obliged, Madam."
Pei Ying stared at the blade in surprise. "You use this?"
"Is there a problem?" Huo Tingshan arched a brow.
Pei Ying lifted the dagger in her hand. To her, the blade wasn’t exactly light—longer than her palm—but compared to other daggers she’d seen, this one was relatively delicate.
She weighed it in her grip. "Aren’t you afraid I might not hold back?"
Huo Tingshan gave her a once-over. "No offense, Madam, but someone like you—I could take down several with one hand." He paused, the corner of his eyes curling with amusement. "No, scratch that. One would be enough."
The candlelight in the room flickered quietly. As Huo Tingshan watched the blush creeping up the fair curve of her ear, a few indecent memories flashed through his mind. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
The night after he’d treated her wounds, he’d already wanted to seek her out.
But by then, she’d stopped acknowledging him entirely—no shared meals, no conversation. Like a startled rabbit, she’d bolt at the slightest rustle. Though they lived in the same courtyard, she somehow managed to evade him for days, leaving him with nothing but her absence.
Only after he’d given her that run-down house in Beichuan County did she finally brighten up a little, no longer dodging him.
Time dragged on until this afternoon, when he’d watched her standing by the wooden shelf, earnestly discussing improvements to the gazette and public sentiment. Suddenly, the urge had overwhelmed him.
Greed drowned out caution in an instant.
The dagger was cold, its weight solid in her grip. Pei Ying stared at it as if willing the blade to sprout flowers. "I’ve never shaved anyone before. If I slip, you can’t hold it against me."
Huo Tingshan picked up the lamp and walked toward the daybed. "I won’t."
Pei Ying followed, then abruptly remembered something. "Your soap—go fetch it."
"Why do you need soap?" Huo Tingshan set the lamp on the side table.
"For shaving, obviously," she said matter-of-factly.
His brow twitched, but he still went to his room to retrieve it. Seizing the moment, Pei Ying filled a small basin with warm water from the spring in the side chamber. When her fingers brushed against the towel, she recoiled instinctively.
No. Not that one.
So when Huo Tingshan returned, she told him, "General, I’ll need a towel too."
His eyes narrowed, tone unreadable. "Madam, your stalling tactics aren’t particularly subtle."
Pei Ying knit her brows and turned the accusation back on him. "You’ve used soap before. When I asked you to bring it, you should’ve known a towel was needed. Why blame me now?"
Huo Tingshan said nothing, just gave her a long look before turning on his heel and leaving again.
The moment he was gone, Pei Ying froze in place.
She suddenly remembered that night—when she’d asked if he’d bathed, and he’d taken it as her finding him unclean. The look he’d given her before leaving then wasn’t so different from the one just now.
Goosebumps prickled the nape of her neck. Then another thought struck her.
Right. Bathing.
At this hour, he probably hadn’t washed yet.
Like a condemned prisoner granted a reprieve, Pei Ying exhaled slowly.
Huo Tingshan returned swiftly. She soaked the towel and soap together, working up a lather before wringing it halfway dry and handing it to him. "Rub it on first, then let it sit for a moment."
He complied without protest.
The man leaned back into the cushioned seat. His frame was broad and towering, making the spacious chair—plenty roomy for Pei Ying—seem cramped in an instant.
Huo Tingshan lounged with casual ease, limbs sprawled, but his dark, fathomless eyes fixed on her like a hawk sighting prey.
Pei Ying kept her gaze down, avoiding his.
Click. The dagger left its sheath.
Her hand trembled slightly around the hilt. She couldn’t help reiterating, "If you bleed, don’t blame me."
Huo Tingshan: "If it’s a reasonable mistake, I won’t."
A beat of silence passed before she asked, "And if it’s unreasonable?"
The corner of his mouth hooked up. "Then you’ll find out later."
Her lashes fluttered rapidly. Slowly, she raised the blade. "Sit up straight."
Huo Tingshan tossed the towel aside and straightened. Just as he seemed about to speak, Pei Ying cut in, "Don’t talk. Or else even unreasonable mistakes won’t be my fault."
His words had a way of grating on her—and now she held a knife. She might genuinely lose her temper. If it were just her, fine, but she still had Nannan to think about.
Huo Tingshan chuckled but stayed silent.
Pei Ying wasn’t one to multitask. Though initially tense from their proximity, her focus soon narrowed entirely to his stubble.
His hair was anything but soft, and his beard was even coarser. But the dagger in her hand was razor-sharp—keen enough to split a hair midair.
Pei Ying carefully scraped the razor, removing a section of stubble before wiping it away with a silk cloth and applying more scented soap. She worked with focused precision, occasionally furrowing her delicate brows as if silently complaining about the tedious task. Every now and then, she would take a damp cloth and press it against Huo Tingshan’s jaw, her fingertips brushing against his skin—brief but lingering like an ember sparking to life.
A drop of fragrant oil fell onto the fire, and the smoldering flame in the man’s eyes flared hotter.
Pei Ying remained absorbed in shaving him.
If I don’t do this properly, I’ll be the one suffering later.
“Madam…”
Even though Pei Ying withdrew her hand quickly, a thin inch-long cut had already appeared on his jaw.
Her breath hitched as she hurriedly dabbed the blood with the silk cloth. “I told you not to talk!”
The man, now sporting a small wound, seemed entirely unbothered. “It’s nothing.”
Pei Ying gave him a pointed look. “...Then by all means, keep talking while I shave you.”
See if I don’t carve a crosshatch of cuts into your face.
Huo Tingshan raised a hand to touch his jaw.
Most of the stubble was already gone, and he had to admit—she was meticulous. He couldn’t feel a single stray hair left.
“Good job,” he remarked.
Pei Ying nearly rolled her eyes. He called me just to say that? His timing was as terrible as ever—no wonder he ended up with a cut.
She finished the remaining patch, wiped his jaw clean with the cloth, and admired her work. The man’s face was now smooth, save for that little nick—which she conveniently ignored.
Not my fault anyway.
After cleaning the blade and sheathing it, she set the knife aside on the nearby table.
Then, without warning, an arm tightened around her waist, pulling her forward until she was seated on his lap.
Pei Ying gasped. “You haven’t even—” washed yet.
The last two words never left her lips. A large hand cradled the back of her head, holding her firmly in place as he leaned in.
