30 Upstream

In truth, it was hardly a surprise that A-Cuo had picked up some skewed habits. Lingbo’s own style of conduct always skirted the edges of propriety. In settings like today’s, she knew well that she was not in the Madam’s good graces, and that sitting through a play was a waste of time. So, the moment Xiao Liu’er brought word from Liu Ji that Pei Zhao had arrived, she seized the chance to slip away.

Had she not slipped out, she never would have witnessed that scene.

She had been trailing behind when she emerged, seeing Pei Zhao standing in the alleyway. Someone half a head shorter than him seemed to have argued with him, then raised a hand and punched him. The assailant, likely shocked that Pei Zhao hadn’t dodged, had stumbled away in a huff. As she approached, she caught a glimpse of the man’s face—it was none other than Zhao the Equerry, who was always by Prince Ping’s side. He was a common sycophant, kept around at banquets to tell jokes and amuse others, while occupying himself with predatory lending and gambling rings. Among the capital’s officials, he was held in contempt, to say nothing of the high-born princes, who treated him as a mere plaything to be summoned or dismissed at will.

Yet, Pei Zhao had simply stood there and taken the punch without moving an inch.

"Seize him," Lingbo commanded, taking advantage of the dim alley and the cover of her cloak. She ordered Liu Ji, "Give him a beating first, then toss him to the Magistrate of Jingzhao."

Zhao the Equerry, still tipsy, was terrified by the sound of a noblewoman’s voice. His drunkenness vanished, and he opened his mouth to plead for mercy, only to hear Pei Zhao speak from behind him: "Let him go."

Had they not been in the presence of others, Lingbo would have scolded him for his frustrating lack of backbone.

Lingbo clicked her tongue. Liu Ji understood and had no choice but to release the man. Zhao, a veteran of the social circles of the elite, knew when to be afraid; he didn't dare even glance at Xiao Liu’er, let alone the mistress, Lingbo. He staggered away, reeking of alcohol.

"My Lady," Xiao Liu’er reminded her softly.

Lingbo stole a glance at Pei Zhao. She didn't need to look to know what the girl was implying. Pei Zhao was born with a beautiful face, though it didn't suit a martial officer. Someone like Cui Jingyu was a born general—tough, resilient, and seemingly impervious to injury, like a beast of prey. Pei Zhao, however, was like a bird of flight: swift and sharp, capable in a fight, but fragile. As someone to whom Shen Biwei had gifted hundreds of birds, Lingbo understood this better than anyone.

If a comparison were needed, he was a bird of prey with magnificent plumage, soaring through the forest with a brilliant, long tail. While his display was undeniably beautiful, what truly softened a girl's heart was seeing him stand quietly in a dark alley, injured like this.

Seeing Xiao Liu’er’s concern, Lingbo couldn't help but feel a prickle of vigilance.

Lingbo had always treated Xiao Liu’er like a younger