I've Decided To Be This Tyrant's Dark Moonlight - Chapter 105

Wei Ying opened her eyes beneath the shadows of the flowers, let out a soft sigh, and covered them with her hand. Dappled sunlight streamed down, scattering across her body.

By now it was already afternoon; twilight gathered, and rainbow-tinted clouds rolled up at the horizon.

“Why is Yingying sighing?” someone asked softly.

Wei Ying propped herself up halfway, only to see Yue Qinghui sitting nearby on a round-backed chair, chin resting on her hand, quietly watching her.

“Why is Your Majesty the Empress here?” Wei Ying yawned, rubbing her reddened eyes. She had just woken, her gaze still misty and shimmering. Spring light and flower shadows spilled over her face like crushed jade, her skin pale as cream, tinged with a delicate pink glow.

Yue Qinghui smiled, “I came to see you.”

Wei Ying stretched lazily. Having slept too long, her body felt soft and heavy. She collapsed back onto the chair, speaking in a languid voice, “I didn’t keep Your Majesty waiting long, did I?”

Yue Qinghui: “Not long.”

Wei Ying smiled faintly. Last night had been full of ominous winds and whispers. With the empress’s wit, she had surely guessed the truth. Lying across the armrest, Wei Ying tilted her head, her cheek pressed with a faint red mark. “Does Your Majesty have business with me?”

Yue Qinghui was silent for a moment, then slowly said, “It’s not a grave matter.” She paused, then added softly, “Yingying, I’ve come to bid you farewell.”

Wei Ying’s heart lurched, and she sat up. “Your Majesty, where are you going? Back to the Southern Sea?”

Yue Qinghui shook her head. “No. Shengjing.”

Wei Ying: “Right, you came from Shengjing. Farewell? So, where are you headed?”

Yue Qinghui: “…Shengjing.”

Wei Ying: “…”

Yue Qinghui: “…”

Both fell silent. After a while, Wei Ying gave two awkward chuckles. “That’s really far away then. Lǜla, dig up last year’s osmanthus wine—we must send Her Majesty off properly! ‘Fear not that the road ahead is lonely; for in all the world, who does not know you?’”

Yue Qinghui pressed her forehead with a hand, smiling faintly. “Yingying, no need to trouble yourself.”

Wei Ying waved her hand. “How can you call it trouble?” She glanced at Lǜla, who was already huffing away with a hoe, digging for the wine jar, then asked: “Is Your Majesty leaving because of what happened at the palace gates this morning?”

Yue Qinghui nodded, then shook her head. She only said, “Soon, you’ll understand, Yingying.”

Wei Ying asked again, “Then when will Your Majesty return?”

Yue Qinghui thought for a moment. “Most likely… I won’t return.”

She lifted her gaze to the vermilion palace walls, the glazed tiles curving upward, eaves gilded by a slant of light. The palace stood like a delicate prison, locking away countless souls yearning for freedom.

Wei Ying’s eyes lit up. “What? Your Majesty won’t be coming back?”

Yue Qinghui lowered her gaze, fearing Wei Ying’s disappointment. She quickly added, “But Yingying, if you miss me, you can—”

Before she finished, Wei Ying clapped her hands in delight. “Doesn’t that mean I can be the empress then?”

Yue Qinghui: ???

A strange pang hit her chest.

Wei Ying, brimming with dreams of a blissful future as empress, grinned widely. “Oh, this is wonderful! I can rise at last.”

Yue Qinghui: …an even sharper pang.

Wei Ying tilted her head, eyes sparkling. “Why not go somewhere farther instead? The Southern Sea would be perfect—you can eat seafood, feel the sea breeze, even collect seashells on the beach.”

Yue Qinghui: “Yingying. Stop.”

Wei Ying shut her mouth, eyes wide and round, staring at her.

Yue Qinghui gave a helpless laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t come back to snatch away the empress’s seat. Relax… work hard and climb up to it yourself. I have faith in you.”

Wei Ying gave a big thumbs-up. “No wonder you’re the empress—what vision! Don’t worry, I’ll definitely become empress and not let you down!”

Yue Qinghui sighed, but couldn’t help smiling again.

That night, they drank together under the moon. Afterward, as Yue Qinghui walked to the doorway, she turned back to look at Wei Ying, then stopped in her tracks.

Wei Ying leaned against the railing, holding a wine jug in her hand. Languidly, she lowered her gaze, black hair cascading against her pale cheek, her white slender neck curving with quiet grace. She stood there with a faint smile on her lips—but it didn’t seem like a smile from the heart.

It was as though the upward curve of her lips was just a habit, not genuine joy.

Yue Qinghui sighed inwardly, then walked back to stand before her under the eaves. Resting her hand on the jade railing, she asked, “Yingying, what are you thinking about?”

Wei Ying glanced at her. She still remembered the defiant little girl who refused to bow her head, now grown into this proper, composed figure. Yet Wei Ying could still see it—the same pride and stubbornness remained.

The empress was like snow atop a lofty peak: cold, untouchable, yet beautiful, proud without arrogance. It was exactly the kind of person Wei Ying admired.

She thought to herself: this was also a child she had once raised, more obedient than the young emperor. Looking back on all the worlds she had crossed, every protagonist had been a dazzling figure, crafted of every finest word—more radiant, beautiful, and brilliant than the emperor.

And yet she could barely remember their faces anymore. When she did, they blurred into the same mask. But her emperor—her little liar of an emperor—was so vivid. The one who always pinched her sleeve when telling lies, those deep dark eyes damp with guilt, the little mole by the corner of her eye, the way she lowered her head in shame.

So alive, so real.

Wei Ying was starting to believe what the emperor once said: when you truly care for someone, you can’t help but notice every little detail. Even if one day she wore another face, came to stand in the crowd, you would still recognize her at a glance.

Wei Ying smiled, stroking the railing. She thought: she had walked across so many worlds, wandered through the galaxies, passed by countless dazzling stars—yet it was before the dimmest, most unremarkable one that she chose to stop.

That little star was clumsy and sly, forever lying—nine out of ten words false. In the past, when faced with such deceitful protagonists, she would never have liked them.

What she loved were the proud, radiant ones, noble and sincere, as flawless as Yue Qinghui.

And yet, she still thought that little star was the best of all.

Like the tiny planet her parents had once gifted her on her birthday—it was small, dusty, shabby, but among the vast heavens she could always spot it instantly.

Because it was hers, and hers alone. In this world, there was only this one star—for her to shine, to dim, to burn out.

Wei Ying gradually realized: she loved that little planet because it carried her parents’ affection, and her attachment to them. It was emotion that made an otherwise ordinary star so precious, so radiant.

Before love, every flaw is overlooked, every worldly measure meaningless. In her eyes, that star outshone the moon.

Wei Ying chuckled. “I was thinking, that year when Your Majesty went to honor the dead… were you close to him?”

Yue Qinghui shook her head. “Not close. But better than with the present emperor.”

Wei Ying asked, “Then why do you help the emperor?”

Yue Qinghui considered, then said, “I’ve never seen anyone so cruel and venomous, yet so pathetically foolish. Yingying, don’t doubt too much. Perhaps every word the emperor speaks is a lie—but her heart that loves you is truer than anything.”

That night, Yue Qinghui departed. After that, the doors of Changchun Palace remained shut, and the emperor rarely came looking for Wei Ying.

Leaning alone on the railing, Wei Ying thought, exams were nearing, and palace factions needed managing—no wonder the emperor was so busy. When the sun finally dipped, she stretched and prepared for her nightly wander, deciding to visit the emperor at the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

But she arrived to find it empty. The guards told her the emperor had left the palace after court and had yet to return.

Left the palace?

Wei Ying blinked in surprise. She almost turned back, but then thought better of it. Why not go search for her? With her clever little head, she quickly guessed her way toward a residence outside the city.

Beyond the palace, crowds surged. Young scholars in white filled the streets, savoring Shengjing’s prosperity, praising the emperor’s benevolence.

Wei Ying strolled leisurely among them, taking in the bustling vitality. At last, the city seemed to have shaken off its long illness, showing faint signs of spring.

Meanwhile, Yun Shao sat in a chair, pondering how Gong Hongbo should die.

Resting her chin on her hand, she accepted a teacup. Her gaze fell on the once-arrogant man before her. After a while, she suddenly smiled. “When I first entered the palace, if not for my teacher’s protection, I would have been buried long ago and never seen this day.”

Gong Hongbo sat with his head bowed, sighing. “Your Majesty…”

Yun Shao tilted her head. “Why did Teacher commit such a grave mistake?”

She smiled again. “Was it the Empress Dowager who forced you? And back then, the fire at the summer palace—was that her forcing you as well?”

Gong Hongbo’s face turned ashen. He collapsed into the chair.

So the emperor had known everything all along—these years had only been an act. He, a veteran of the court, had lost to a child who played at acting. He trembled inwardly. If both old and new debts were tallied, how many heads would it take to appease her wrath?

But then the emperor’s smile deepened. She clapped her hands. “That fire was well set!”

Gong Hongbo: ???

Yun Shao: “If not for that fire, I wouldn’t be here today. Truly, Uncle, you are my lucky star.”

Gong Hongbo stared in blank confusion.

Yun Shao sipped her tea, then added, “But you should not have killed Teacher.”

Gong Hongbo narrowed his eyes and lowered his head further.

Yun Shao sighed softly. “That too was the Empress Dowager, wasn’t it? You should not have done it. If Teacher had lived, I would never have ascended the throne. I would have ridden freely with him, while the Empress Dowager could enthrone Prince Luling, and you, Uncle, could finally wield your grand ambitions. A perfect outcome, wouldn’t it have been?”

Gong Hongbo couldn’t understand why she said such things, sitting as if on thorns, listening in dread.

Yun Shao went on slowly: “I once imagined, when I gained power, how I would deal with you. The poison that killed Teacher was called ‘Parting Joy.’ It corrodes the organs, agony burning to the bone, while outwardly the victim seems unchanged. I have always wanted to taste it myself, to know my teacher’s suffering. But Teacher asked me to live on…”

Her eyes curved in a smile, gentle as a spring breeze, as she looked at Gong Hongbo. “So, Uncle, why not drink a cup for me? Tell me afterward—just how much it hurts.”

Gong Hongbo looked at the wine brought before him, gave a bitter smile, and nodded. “Your servant obeys.”

The emperor picked up the cup, preparing to hand it to him, when Fushou came running in breathlessly. “Your Majesty, Your Majesty!”

Yun Shao frowned at him. “Did I not say, I am discussing state matters with the Imperial Uncle? No one is to enter.”

Fushou waved frantically. “No, it’s not that—Her Ladyship has come to see Your Majesty.”

At the sound of that familiar voice outside, Yun Shao’s hand shook. The spring-green poison wine spilled across the floor. In panic, she flung the rest out the window, cup and all. Where it splashed, a patch of grass withered and died.

“Is Your Majesty meeting with the Imperial Uncle?” Wei Ying asked with a lilting smile, walking in and taking hold of the emperor’s arm.

Yun Shao: “Mm, nothing important.”

Wei Ying glanced out the open window, spotting the withered clump of grass, stark against the surrounding green, and the overturned wine cup beside it. She looked back at the damp marks on the stone floor, understanding at once, though she pretended not to know. “Your Majesty, why is that patch of grass yellow?”

Yun Shao stiffened, her face hardening as she clenched her sleeves.

If Yingying realized she had tried to poison Gong Hongbo… if Yingying saw her as ruthless…

She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

Wei Ying leaned out further. “Strange. Looks like it was drugged with something.”

Yun Shao said quickly, “Surely the Imperial Uncle has been secretly dosing his garden.”

Gong Hongbo: …

Wei Ying: “Grass.”

Meeting both their gazes, she smiled. “Grass is so cute—how could anyone poison it?”

Gong Hongbo: …Grass.

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