Chapter Ten: Who Exactly Are You?

“I… I…”

Liu Fuying looked as though she were about to cry, lowering her head as her brows drew tightly together.

“I know I shouldn’t have come again. Coming here just irritates you. I know that. But I couldn’t help myself—I just wanted to see how you were doing. I’ll go now.”

As soon as she finished, she really did turn to leave, preparing to walk past Pei Zhouwu.

But just as she expected, he didn’t let her go so easily—his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“Miss Yueying, I was wrong last time.”

Though he didn’t want to admit it, a quiet voice deep within kept reminding him of the truth: while he couldn’t stand being pitied, he feared even more the boundless loneliness.

Even when a bird paused at his window and flew away again, he would sink into a daze of disappointment.

In the past, he had legions under his command, family and friends always nearby—he never understood what it meant to be truly alone. But in just half a year, this silence, this helplessness, had nearly driven him insane.

He needed something—someone.

Even if it was just a bird. Even a single glowing firefly.

“Imperial Uncle Pei?”

Liu Fuying looked up at him with a surprised expression.

Inside, she was thrilled.

She loved nothing more than when she had everything firmly within her grasp.

Pei Zhouwu didn’t explain anything further. He let go of her hand and passed her the iron chain that dangled between his wrists, gesturing for her to follow him.

Gripping that chain again, Liu Fuying’s mindset was entirely different from the first time.

Then, she’d still had doubts and hesitation.

Now, she could face her ambition without flinching.

Inside the room, she released the chain.

Pei Zhouwu went to the rack by his bed, picked up a towel, and handed it to her. “I don’t have anything else. But this one is clean.”

“Thank you, Imperial Uncle.”

Liu Fuying accepted it without the slightest hint of disdain. The towel wasn’t soft, but it was clean and stiff, clearly sun-dried and well-washed.

As she turned away to dry her hair, other thoughts stirred.

Pei Zhouwu was shackled all year, both wrists bound by chains. Without taking them off, he couldn’t put on or remove clothes. Yet he didn’t have even a trace of body odor. How did he bathe?

Her gaze flicked casually toward the window.

And in that instant—she understood.

That pond.

He must simply immerse himself there, clothes and all. Quick, rough, efficient.

The image popped into her mind unbidden: the man undressing and stepping into the water, exposing his chest and shoulders.

Now that was a sight worth seeing.

She quickly reined in her thoughts. By the time she turned back around, there was no trace of her distraction.

“Thank you, Imperial Uncle.”

She handed the towel back, then paused and took it again.

“Actually… would you like me to wash this for you?”

“No need.” Pei Zhouwu’s eyelids fluttered slightly as he accepted it. “Just leave it—it’s fine.”

“Well then…”

She glanced at the bedding, walked over, and bent down to lift it.

“I’ll wash your sheets for you. The sun’s strong today—they’ll dry in no time.”

“You don’t have to.” Pei Zhouwu set the towel aside and rushed to stop her. “I’m a criminal. There’s no reason for you to serve me like this. You really don’t—”

“It’s nothing. I’m used to doing this kind of work.”

“Miss Su!”

He grabbed her wrist again, his voice suddenly firm.

He had deliberately avoided dwelling on the questions surrounding her identity, but her attire today reignited his suspicions. She wore a light green gauzy gown, the fabric luxurious—something only nobles could afford. Far finer than what she’d worn the last two times.

If she were merely a servant…

He couldn’t believe it.

But if she were a noble daughter, there was even less reason she should suffer through such hardship for his sake.

“Miss Su, if you keep doing this… then I really won’t let you come again.”

“I… I just wanted to help you.”

“These things aren’t—”

Pei Zhouwu suddenly fell silent, his eyes dropping to her hand where he held her wrist.

Her palm and fingers were covered in layers of calluses, at different stages of healing.

Calluses like that only formed from years of hard labor.

No noble young lady would have hands like these.

Could it be that she really…

Liu Fuying subtly tugged her hand free, her expression unaffected. She had meant for him to notice those calluses.

She had spent so many years in the Liu family treated worse than an animal, chopping wood and washing clothes in freezing water. Her hands had suffered frostbite over and over, healing and cracking again. They had only improved a little after two years of better care in the Shen household.

“Please don’t laugh, Your Grace. A servant’s hands are naturally unsightly.”

Afraid she might misunderstand him again, Pei Zhouwu quickly tried to explain, “That’s not what I meant. I just…”

Once, he had led vast armies. He’d thought himself articulate and commanding.

But now, he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

His feelings were as conflicted as her identity was puzzling.

Just as he was about to speak again, a sudden noise came from outside.

Before Liu Fuying could even react, she saw Pei Zhouwu pick a fallen bamboo leaf from the bed, pinch it between his fingers, and flick it toward the door.

A cry rang out immediately.

“My hair!”

“Pei Zhouwu, you bastard! You dare act arrogant in your state? Let’s see how long you can keep breathing!”

It was likely one of the guards.

Pei Zhouwu had told her before—they came by multiple times a day to check in.

Even Liu Fuying was startled by that move. She’d known he was skilled in martial arts, but not to this extent. Using only sound to locate a target, and wielding a bamboo leaf like a weapon—what terrifying strength he had.

Clearly, he truly had no intention of leaving this place.

Otherwise, no number of guards would be able to stop him.

“Did I… cause you trouble?” Liu Fuying asked softly, pressing down the complicated swirl of feelings in her chest as she continued her performance.

“It’s fine,” Pei Zhouwu shook his head. “They’re used to it. If not, they’d have barged in already.”

They probably had tried to rush in before—and paid for it. Over time, they must have grown afraid, now only daring to shout threats from outside, never entering again.

As long as he was still alive, still inside—that was enough for them.

Pei Zhouwu turned back to Liu Fuying. He had wanted to say something before, but the interruption had thrown him off. Now he couldn’t find the words.

He just stared at her soaked figure, frowning slightly.

“It’s fine. I’ll dry off by the window,” Liu Fuying said, ever the gentle and sensible one, stepping toward the sunlight by the window.

Pei Zhouwu was a prisoner. With those chains on, he couldn’t change clothes. There were no spare garments in his room for her to change into.

“You… whose maid are you, exactly?”