The crimson figure stepped in slowly, bringing with her a fragrant breeze as she entered.
Her posture was graceful, her slender waist swaying delicately—just her silhouette alone exuded an alluring charm. As she drew closer, the onlookers noticed that in this early spring, she wore sheer gauze, showcasing her striking figure to the fullest.
Indeed, as Lan Zimu had said, this woman was extraordinarily beautiful—her face like a peach blossom glistening with dew, and her eyes were especially captivating. A single glance from her felt like a feather brushing against one’s heart, stirring an unbearable itch.
Sha Ying inwardly marveled—she truly was a rare beauty, even more enchanting than the Zhu Jin he had once possessed.
Yet, the title of "peerless" still did not quite suit her.
When Lian Ji entered, Lan Zimu had been eagerly anticipating Huo Tingshan’s stunned admiration and the dazed expressions of the Youzhou generals.
After all, when he first laid eyes on her, he had been struck by the thought that such a seductress existed in this world. That she had previously been relegated to the son of a mere provincial governor was nothing short of a waste.
However, to Lan Zimu’s surprise, the man seated at the head of the hall showed little change in expression, his lips still curled in the same faint smile as before.
As for the Youzhou generals, while many did reveal looks of admiration, none were so overcome as to lose their composure.
"Great General, this is Lian Ji. What do you think?" Lan Zimu suppressed his bewilderment and smiled.
By now, Lian Ji had taken her place at the forefront of the lower hall. Hearing Lan Zimu introduce her, her heart pounded like a drum.
This man’s power far surpassed that of Prince Huikang or the Eldest Young Master Shi. Not yet past forty, he already ruled three provinces—You, Ji, and Bing.
Moreover, this Huo Youzhou was broad-shouldered and tall-nosed, undoubtedly a fierce lover in bed. Lian Ji adored such wild men—the fiercer, the better. Those gentle scholars were far too dull for her taste.
Yet when she cast a flirtatious glance his way, the man at the head of the hall remained unmoved, his gaze shifting instead to Lan Zimu below.
"What does Congwei think?" he asked instead, addressing Lan Zimu by his courtesy name.
Lan Zimu smiled. "Naturally, she is stunningly beautiful. To be frank, Great General, she is the most exquisite woman I have ever seen."
There was an unspoken implication here: I’ve offered you the best I have—my loyalty to you is absolute from now on.
Huo Tingshan then turned to Gao Shikai. "What does Nuotai think?"
Gao Shikai, though puzzled, answered truthfully. "Indeed, she is as radiant as peach blossoms in spring—exceptionally beautiful."
Hearing both Gao Shikai and Lan Zimu praise her, Lian Ji’s smile deepened—until the man at the head spoke again.
"Your contributions to my smooth entry into Xiaojiang Commandery are undeniable. Since both Nuotai and Congwei find this woman so captivating, she shall be yours to share."
It was common practice to gift, exchange, or even share concubines among men. As for how the two would divide her—that was their own affair.
Lan Zimu and Gao Shikai were stunned.
What man did not crave beauty? Those who claimed otherwise simply lacked the means. But Huo Youzhou was hardly lacking in that regard.
The only explanation was that he truly valued their service and deemed them worthy of such a reward—hence his willingness to part with such a peerless beauty.
In that moment, Lan Zimu and Gao Shikai were overwhelmed with emotion. From small things, one could glimpse the greater picture—serving under Huo Youzhou would surely be a prosperous path.
Both men expressed their gratitude.
Lian Ji, standing in the center, struggled to maintain her seductive smile. Though the two generals were fine men, neither compared to the one at the head of the hall.
Yet the decision had been made. Reluctantly, she took her seat between Gao Shikai and Lan Zimu.
This minor incident passed without further remark.
Lan Zimu and Gao Shikai resumed their revelry, unaware that among the Youzhou officers, knowing glances were exchanged—just as expected.
The banquet continued, with hosts and guests alike enjoying themselves.
As time slipped by, the evening drew to a close.
Having long resided in Xiaojiang Commandery, Lan Zimu and Gao Shikai had their own residences. Once the festivities ended, they took their leave with Lian Ji in tow.
Huo Tingshan also departed the main hall, returning to his private courtyard.
Of the two adjacent rooms in the main courtyard, one still had its lamp lit. Huo Tingshan went straight to it, knocked twice, then pushed the door open without waiting for a reply.
Pei Ying sat curled on the divan, a warming pan in her arms, reading a recently delivered letter from the Pei family.
At the sound of his knock, she didn’t bother responding—this man’s knocks were always a formality, never a request for permission.
"Is my lady unwell?" Huo Tingshan asked.
Pei Ying replied, "It’s just my monthly courses. I’m a bit uncomfortable."
Hearing it was her time of the month, Huo Tingshan’s brow relaxed slightly.
A woman’s cycle was natural—she would recover in a few days.
But as he approached, he noticed her pallor. Pei Ying was usually the picture of health—rosy-cheeked, free from ailments, and never one to suffer motion sickness even on long carriage rides.
He reached out to feel her forehead. No fever. Withdrawing his hand, he said, "Shall I summon Physician Feng to examine you and prescribe something?"
Pei Ying sighed. "It’s nothing serious. I just indulged in something cold yesterday, so I’m feeling slightly off today. No need for medicine."
"My lady’s face is as pale as a ghost’s. What, are you planning to outshine the underworld without it?" Huo Tingshan clicked his tongue.
Pei Ying: "..."
If this man didn’t hold military power, he’d have long been killed for his sharp tongue.
"It’s not an illness. At most, I’ll drink some red—" Pei Ying suddenly cut herself off.
Huo Tingshan caught it. "Red what?"
Pei Ying: "Red sugar and ginger tea."
He repeated the phrase—all familiar words. "By ‘red sugar,’ do you mean malt sugar?"
Pei Ying shook her head, then nodded. "In a way, it’s another form of malt sugar."
Due to underdeveloped transportation, salt was a luxury in ancient times, especially inland where its cost was exorbitant. During the Spring and Autumn period, Guan Zhong’s innovative salt monopoly policy had rapidly filled the state coffers, securing Qi’s dominance among the warring states.
If salt was precious, sugar was no less so.
Honey was a luxury item reserved for nobility, seldom used outside of grand feasts.
As recorded in The Book of Rites: "A child serving their parents offers dates, chestnuts, malt sugar, and honey to sweeten their lives."
At its core, this reflected the ancient pursuit of sweetness.
Pei Ying knew that the "malt sugar" Huo Tingshan referred to was primarily cane sugar.
However, sugar in this era was crude—merely concentrated sugarcane juice, faint in flavor, brown in color, and gritty in texture.
"How does my lady’s ‘red sugar’ compare to malt sugar?" Huo Tingshan sat beside her on the divan.
Pei Ying tucked her feet in. "Red sugar is dozens of times sweeter, with a purer taste and almost no grittiness."
As these words fell, Pei Ying noticed a familiar glimmer in Huo Tingshan's eyes—the same light she had seen when she presented the soap to him before.
Pei Ying mused to herself that this man remained as sharp as ever.
The nobles of Chang'an were fond of pursuing a life of comfort, insisting on the finest of everything, preferably luxuries beyond the reach of ordinary wealthy families.
Moreover, sugar wasn’t merely about sweetness—it represented high energy. During covert missions or swift raids, carrying sugar could sustain stamina for long periods.
Huo Tingshan pressed further, "How is this brown sugar made?"
Pei Ying already knew what he was thinking and had no choice but to dampen his enthusiasm. "General, the raw material is the same—sugarcane. Mass-producing sugar isn’t easy because its source isn’t as readily available as soap ingredients like lard and oyster shells. Sugarcane doesn’t grow in the north; it’s currently only cultivated in the southeast."
Zhe—sugarcane.
At present, sugarcane was mainly grown in Jiaozhou, more precisely in the Liangguang region. Traveling from the north to Liangguang spanned thousands of miles.
Huo Tingshan’s brows furrowed.
Simply sending men to the south to retrieve sugarcane would demand immense manpower, resources, and time.
Huo Tingshan asked again, "Madam, can sugarcane be grown in the north? Like cotton, could we bring seeds back for cultivation?"
Jiaozhou’s climate was hot and humid, vastly different from the north. Before Pei Ying could suggest bringing back seeds, Huo Tingshan had already raised the question.
Pei Ying pondered for a moment. "Sugarcane can grow in the north, but its seeds have a short lifespan—often losing viability within three months. Moreover, sugarcane stalks yield sturdier seedlings, so people usually propagate new plants using cuttings."
Ultimately, the issue boiled down to one thing: the vast distance between north and south made the journey too long.
So long that the sugarcane might die before arriving.
Hearing that sugarcane could be grown in the north, Huo Tingshan’s expression eased. "If it can be planted, that’s enough. I’ll find a way to handle the rest."
At worst, he would mobilize all his covert operatives in the south—sugarcane must be brought back and cultivated in the north.
Pei Ying covered a yawn with her hand. "Does the General have other matters?"
Noticing her weariness, Huo Tingshan said, "Since Madam isn’t feeling well, you should retire early."
Pei Ying nodded.
After he left, her gaze returned to the family letter.
The Pei family had moved back to Jizhou, though not to their old hometown but to Yuanshan County.
In the letter, Pei's Father mentioned that their new residence was in an excellent location. Shortly after settling in, Chen Zan, the acting governor, paid them a visit—twice.
On the second visit, Chen Zan even brought several merchants to introduce to the Pei family.
With connections established and circumstances favorable, Pei's Father, who had initially planned to rest, found himself itching to restart their business ventures. He sought Pei Ying’s opinion.
At the end of the letter, he cautiously broached another topic—her relationship with Huo Tingshan. Clearly, the previous letter, which Huo Tingshan had personally helped her write, had startled the family.
Holding the letter, Pei Ying couldn’t deny the complexity of her emotions.
These were her kin in this era, and Huo Tingshan’s interference had bound them inextricably together.
By next year—no, it was already early spring—in a few months, she would have to marry him.
Then, like the women of this time, she would have to integrate into her husband’s family, facing all manner of unavoidable social obligations.
Perhaps due to her menstrual cycle affecting her mood, a sudden wave of dread washed over her.
She felt as though an invisible hand had seized her mid-flight, forcing her down onto unfamiliar soil.
And that hand wasn’t satisfied—it pushed her forward step by step, pressing her deeper into a swamp ahead.
A swamp named "Three Obediences and Four Virtues," where a woman’s duty was to submit to her husband and raise his children.
Knock knock.
A soft rapping sounded at the door.
Pei Ying snapped out of her thoughts. "Come in."
Xin Jin entered, carrying a small jar. "Madam, Squad Leader Guo just delivered this jar of honey."
Pei Ying blinked in surprise. "Honey?"
Xin Jin nodded. "He said it was on his orders."
Pei Ying recalled their earlier conversation about "brown sugar ginger tea." Brown sugar wasn’t available yet, and malt sugar wasn’t as sweet.
In terms of sweetness, honey was a perfect substitute.
The beautiful woman sighed softly. "Xin Jin, prepare me a cup of honey water, please."
After drinking the honey water, Pei Ying retired to bed.
The former governor of Bingzhou had known how to live comfortably—the room had a heated kang (bed-stove). Bundled under the covers, Pei Ying soon drifted into slumber on this chilly spring night.
Two days later, Pei Ying felt much lighter. After her menstrual cycle ended completely, she grew restless staying in the governor’s residence.
She informed Huo Tingshan before setting out with Xin Jin and a few guards, including Squad Leader Guo Dajiang.
Xiaojiang County was as bustling as Yuanshan, with streets crowded with carriages and pedestrians. Among the throngs, curly-haired Western Region merchants were a common sight.
Pei Ying, wearing a veil hat, strolled leisurely down the street, Xin Jin by her side and Guo Dajiang’s squad following at a distance.
She paused occasionally at interesting shops and stalls.
Western merchants typically sold spices and perfumed oils, the latter being particularly popular among women.
"Strange, where did Squad Leader Guo go?" Xin Jin muttered.
At first, she only noticed Guo Dajiang’s absence. But after Pei Ying bought an exotic amber-inlaid hat and a few accessories for her daughter, she turned to hand them to the guards—only to find all of them gone.
Not just Guo Dajiang—every Youzhou soldier had vanished.
Not a single familiar face remained.
Pei Ying froze.
The streets were still lively, filled with Western merchants and common folk. Everything seemed normal, yet Pei Ying couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
"Madam, the guards are all missing," Xin Jin said uneasily.
She remembered the danger they’d faced at the meat market in Yanmen County. Were they ambushed by scouts from another province again?
Xin Jin grew increasingly agitated. "Could it be enemy scouts?"
Pei Ying thought for a moment, then shook her head. Unlikely.
Six guards had accompanied her, spread out rather than clustered together. Even if assailants struck, it would be near impossible to eliminate all of them simultaneously.
"Madam, should we keep shopping… or return?" Xin Jin whispered.
Pei Ying gazed at the bustling pedestrians on the street before turning her eyes toward a nearby teahouse. "Xin Jin, let's go to the teahouse."
Though privately, Xin Jin believed they should hurry back to the Governor's residence, since Pei Ying insisted, she had no choice but to follow.
Upon entering the teahouse, Pei Ying requested a private room.
Once inside, she removed her veil hat and set it aside, motioning for Xin Jin to take a seat as well.
"My lady," Xin Jin said hesitantly, her tone uneasy.
Pei Ying smiled faintly. "Sit. It's just tea. I don’t stand on ceremony here."
Knowing her temperament, Xin Jin hesitated but eventually complied.
The ordered tea and snacks arrived swiftly, and Pei Ying began brewing the tea.
Just as the pot was ready, a knock sounded at the door.
Pei Ying had only ordered tea, nothing else, so there should have been no reason for further disturbance.
"My lady, outside…" Ever since discovering that Guo Dajiang and the others had gone missing, Xin Jin had been on edge.
Now, this unexpected knocking only heightened her nerves.
Before Pei Ying could respond, the door swung open.
A young man strode in—no older than sixteen or seventeen, not yet of age to wear a guan, so his dark hair was half-loose. He wore a black quju robe, a jade pendant hanging from his waist, his fair complexion giving him a strikingly handsome appearance.
His steps were purposeful, his brow furrowed with displeasure.
Pei Ying had removed her veil upon entering, so the moment he stepped inside, the young man’s eyes locked onto her face—delicate as a lotus, her lips like vermilion, her beauty radiant yet composed, every feature exquisitely balanced.
He paused, scrutinizing her, his gaze growing darker the longer he looked until his frown deepened. "Are you Pei, the creator of the scented soap? Did you really invent it?"
While he studied her, Pei Ying also assessed him, her attention lingering on his eyes.
"No," she replied.
The young man blinked, clearly taken aback by her denial. "But everyone says it was you."
Pei Ying’s tone remained indifferent. "I merely found the method in an ancient text. I can’t take credit for its creation. And you are? Why have you barged into my room?"
"My father is the Heavenly Strategy General," the young man declared, lifting his chin with pride.
Pei Ying wasn’t particularly surprised.
In this era, people married young—girls often wed right after their coming-of-age ceremony, and boys frequently took wives before their own adulthood.
Huo Tingshan had already risen to the position of Youzhou Governor, effectively the highest authority in the region. It was likely he also led the Huo clan.
A man steering such a powerful family wouldn’t reach his thirties without heirs—his followers would grow restless, fearing instability should he pass without a successor.
Pei Ying had assumed Huo Tingshan had children; the only question was how many.
Seeing her calm expression—devoid of shock or fear at his revelation—Huo Zhizhang clenched his jaw, staring at her as if trying to unravel her secrets.
His mother had died shortly after his birth, and though his father had taken other women over the years, only he and his elder brother had been born. No half-siblings had emerged to compete for resources.
Moreover, his father had never shown interest in remarrying.
Huo Zhizhang had assumed this arrangement would last forever—until his father returned from a military campaign laden with expensive trinkets and rare flowers, all meant for an unknown woman.
At first, he dismissed it as a passing infatuation—perhaps a concubine to be tucked away in some corner of the estate.
But then came the announcement: his father intended to marry.
The dowry list far exceeded the standard for a Governor’s wedding. The main residence was renovated, and scouts were dispatched to find a spring for a new mansion.
Rumors of a peerless beauty swirled, and Huo Zhizhang could no longer stay idle in Youzhou.
A new wife meant new heirs—legitimate sons with a mother to whisper in their father’s ear.
That alone would eclipse whatever standing he and his brother had.
Better to act now, before the wedding. Once she became his stepmother, filial piety would bind his hands.
So, leaving a note for his brother, Huo Zhizhang had slipped away with guards to Bingzhou.
Before meeting Pei Ying, he’d imagined a seductress—someone who’d ensnared his father with charms.
Yet the reality was different. Still, one thing matched the rumors: she was undeniably beautiful.
"Why have you sought me out?" Pei Ying cut straight to the point.
Huo Zhizhang shut the door and stepped closer.
Since she wasn’t yet his stepmother, he saw no need for excessive courtesy. "How did you convince my father to marry you? Was it the soap method or those fabricated auspicious omens?"
"I didn’t convince him," Pei Ying sighed, recognizing his resistance—much like her own daughter’s reluctance toward her remarriage.
Huo Zhizhang’s frown deepened, skepticism plain.
"If I had a choice, I wouldn’t marry your father," she admitted bluntly.
She’d known this union would bring complications. How many more children would come knocking after this one?
The thought alone made her head throb.
Huo Zhizhang’s eyes widened at the hint of disdain in her words.
Was she feigning reluctance? How dare she look down on his father?
"If you’re unwilling, why stay? Wouldn’t leaving be simpler?" His voice dripped with doubt.
He knew his father never kept women who wished to depart—some were even sent away if they grew too ambitious.
Pei Ying poured herself tea. "He won’t let me go."
She’d tried fleeing once, only to be dragged back. Now, her ties to Huo Tingshan were too entangled to sever.
To Huo Zhizhang, her words sounded absurd—an outright lie.
She must be staying willingly, he decided. After all, his father’s wealth ensured a life of luxury.
A surge of anger—whether from feeling deceived or slighted—rushed to Huo Zhizhang’s head, and he couldn’t help but snap, "If you want to leave, it’s not difficult. I’ll send you away myself."
Pei Ying paused, studying Huo Zhizhang for a moment before suddenly smiling, her eyes curving. "Alright, then I’ll leave it to you to arrange. When can I go?"
"Right now," Huo Zhizhang answered without hesitation.
Pei Ying arched a delicate brow. "Now?"
"What, have you changed your mind and decided not to leave?" Huo Zhizhang retorted impatiently.
Pei Ying admitted frankly, "I still have a daughter in the Governor’s residence."
Huo Zhizhang was taken aback. "You have a daughter?"
His own father barely had time to manage him, yet now he was raising someone else’s child. The thought left a bitter taste in Huo Zhizhang’s mouth.
Pei Ying guessed this young man wasn’t Huo Tingshan’s eldest son, nor was he being groomed as the heir. "Your father has sons. Why shouldn’t I have a daughter?"
Huo Zhizhang had no reply.
After a moment’s thought, Pei Ying decided to warn him. "The soldiers who escorted me out of the residence saw you. If I leave with you directly, they’ll know."
"I’ll handle it. Just come with me," Huo Zhizhang said irritably.
Pei Ying remained seated, unmoving.
Huo Zhizhang scoffed. "Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. After all, you’ve served the Youzhou Army. If I were that heartless—repaying kindness with cruelty—I wouldn’t deserve to be the Governor’s son."
Finishing the tea in her cup, the beautiful woman rose from her seat.
Very well. She might as well take this chance to leave and breathe freely somewhere far away.
Governor’s Residence, Study.
Huo Tingshan set down a letter and glanced out the window. The sun was nearly setting, yet there was still no report from the guards.
He summoned the sentry and ordered him to check the main courtyard, only to confirm Pei Ying had not returned.
The man’s brows furrowed. "What’s so fascinating about a rundown city with a few extra barbarians?"
To stay out until dark—her heart had truly grown wild.
...
Half an hour later, night fell.
Huo Tingshan strode out of the study with a cold expression. Just as he stepped beyond the courtyard, a guard hurried over with news.
His expression softened slightly.
"General, a letter from the Eldest Young Master," the guard announced.
Huo Tingshan paused, took the letter expressionlessly, and broke the wax seal right there. His eyes scanned the contents rapidly.
"Outrageous!" A storm gathered in Huo Tingshan’s gaze.
The guard flinched, not daring to look up. Soon, an icy voice drifted down from above. "Prepare my horse."
The sound of retreating footsteps halted after a few steps, followed by another command, cold as winter wind: "Pass the order—from this moment onward, tighten surveillance on Linglong Courtyard. That girl is not to set foot outside its gates."
