I've Decided To Be This Tyrant's Dark Moonlight - Chapter 108

After sending off the Gong Beinu sisters, Wei Ying took good care of the Emperor, finally coaxing her into a better mood.

Yunshao: “You even bought them an estate outside Shengjing, and so close to our residence too. You don’t go secretly visiting them, do you?”

Wei Ying smiled as she massaged the Emperor’s temples. “How could I? Does your head still hurt?”

Yunshao pouted, mumbled a few more complaints, then glanced at Wei Ying. Draped in an outer robe, she was smiling warmly, looking more and more like the person Yunshao remembered. Suddenly, all of Yunshao’s words of grievance dissolved. She buried her head in Wei Ying’s shoulder, fingers threading through her satin-like black hair, rubbing against her neck.

Wei Ying felt ticklish from her rubbing, chuckled, and pulled Yunshao’s hand. “That’s enough, my hand’s going numb from patting. If I keep this up, tomorrow when Your Majesty sits on the dragon throne, you’ll still be sore.”

Yunshao flushed and muttered defensively, “That’s not what I meant.”

Wei Ying reached out to ruffle her hair, smiling. “Go to sleep. You’ve been worrying too much about military affairs. There’s really nothing to fret over—Bei Jue isn’t much of a threat.”

At the mention of Bei Jue, the blush faded from Yunshao’s face, replaced by a sickly pallor. She gazed at Wei Ying, her black eyes like sparks bursting into fire, full of pain and inner struggle.

Wei Ying: “Your Majesty? Looking at me like that… am I flattering you too much?”

Yunshao pulled her gaze away, lay down on her side facing the wall. “No, Yingying. I’m just tired. Let’s sleep early.”

Hearing the steady breaths beside her, Wei Ying still couldn’t fall asleep. In the middle of the night, she sat up, draped on an outer robe, lifted the lamp, and stepped outside the palace. The night air on the stone steps was cool as water, the black sky glittering with stars.

She sat on the steps, head tilted back, staring at the Milky Way spanning the heavens. In this age, the stars were still bright, not dimmed by the gray haze of the world she once came from.

Wei Ying mulled over the plot ahead, but… everything was already in shambles, the storyline diverging miles away from the original.

Now the empress’ seat stood vacant, the noble consort was gone, and the main protagonist was absent from the palace. This was her golden opportunity to rise.

As long as she finished her task and walked through the coming story, she could safely leave. But the rest of the plot was also the ending—the Emperor’s death.

Xiao Qianxue would, in the end, kill the Emperor with her own hands. A curse, a fate written in stone.

At the thought, Wei Ying’s heart thudded faster, filled with unease. Ever since Yunshao took full control of power, she had sensed a change in her—growing restless, irritable, violent, especially impatient with military affairs in the north.

She was becoming more and more like the tyrant from the original story.

Every time Wei Ying tried to admonish her, Yunshao would lean close, acting coquettish, her pale little face whispering of headaches. Out of idle concern, Wei Ying had even learned massage techniques from the Imperial Physicians, often giving her massages, though inwardly, her worry only deepened.

In the book, the protagonist had poisoned the Emperor with a slow-acting toxin. The symptoms—headaches, irritability, unstable temper—led to death.

The more Wei Ying thought, the more uneasy she felt.

But the protagonist was gone—surely the plot wouldn’t repeat itself? She had dragged the Emperor to the Imperial Physicians many times. Each time they said the same: the Emperor was simply overworked, troubled in mind, nothing at all related to poison.

Wei Ying didn’t believe it. She rotated through every physician in the court hospital, only to hear the same conclusion each time. By then, even the parrots in the hospital had memorized their conversations.

Parrot 1: “Your Ladyship, His Majesty is only fatigued, a calming tonic will suffice.”
Parrot 2: “Really? I don’t believe it. Really? I don’t believe it. Really? I don’t believe it…”
Parrot 3: “Your Ladyship, His Majesty is perfectly healthy, not poisoned!”
Parrot 2: “Really? I don’t believe it. Really? I don’t believe it. Really? I don’t believe it…”

…

On her last visit, the physicians practically scattered at the sight of her. Those who couldn’t escape wailed, “Your Ladyship, His Majesty truly isn’t ill!”

Wei Ying: “Really? I don’t believe it.”

Beside her, the parrot chirped on: “Really? I don’t believe it. Really? I don’t believe it…”

The eighty-year-old head physician cried like a child. “Your Ladyship, please, spare us!”

Wei Ying realized no more answers could be found here. She had no choice but to seek clues in the Empress Dowager’s old residence.

After the Eastern Dowager Empress’ fall, her maid Dong’e had quickly pledged loyalty to Wei Ying. Wei Ying accepted it, letting her guide her through the Dowager’s secret storeroom.

Dong’e explained the jars and vials as they passed.

Wei Ying soon realized the late Dowager had been a genius at making poisons—if she had lived in modern times, she’d have excelled in chemistry or biology. The collection contained all kinds of strange, terrifying toxins. The most dreadful of all was the infamous “Jianhuan” (Ecstasy).

Dong’e: “After drinking Jianhuan, the victim shows no obvious changes outwardly, but the poison rapidly corrodes the internal organs. Many couldn’t bear the pain and killed themselves. The Dowager once used it to eliminate a beauty newly favored by the late Emperor.”

Wei Ying clicked her tongue twice in awe. After listening, she asked: “Is there anything here that causes chronic headaches?”

Dong’e thought, then pulled out a drawer and took out three porcelain boxes.

“You mean this? This poison is colorless and tasteless. Once afflicted, the victim suffers unbearable headaches.”

Wei Ying’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Anything else?”

Dong’e: “Their temperament changes—violent, erratic, easily angered.”

Wei Ying clapped her hands. “Exactly, that’s it! And then?”

Dong’e grew more animated. “Sometimes they suffer insomnia, paranoia, even self-harm.”

Wei Ying leaned closer, even more excited. “Yes, yes, that’s it!”

Dong’e blinked. “My lady, who do you want to poison?”

Wei Ying coughed. “Ahem, no one. I’m not planning to harm anyone.” She noticed Dong’e’s skeptical look, turned her head guiltily, then forced herself to glare back. “Fine then—tell me, is there an antidote?”

Dong’e blinked innocently. “There isn’t one.”

Wei Ying froze. “What?”

Dong’e: “The Dowager never made antidotes. She said if there’s an antidote, then the poison isn’t truly flawless.”

Wei Ying: ???

Finally stumbling upon a lead to the original story, only to be crushed again. She sighed, still decided to take the three bottles to have them studied. Before picking them up, she asked: “What’s the difference between these three?”

Dong’e: “Oh, just the speed. The rightmost works fastest—three hours to death. The left one is slower—five hours. The middle one is the slowest—it can take a full day.”

Wei Ying: “… So the Dowager was impatient, huh.”

Dong’e gasped. “My lady is truly perceptive! You even guessed her short temper!”

Wei Ying gave a weary sigh, putting the bottles back. Her heart told her this wasn’t related after all—the Emperor had been suffering headaches for months. Clearly, not the Dowager’s poisons.

But then… who else in the palace could be poisoning her? Could it really be, as the physicians said, only overwork?

As long as the death flag from the original story wasn’t triggered, Wei Ying was relieved. She turned to leave, then glanced back at the poison trove.

Such fine poisons—what a waste not to take them.

She pointed at them. “Pack these three. And this one—Hemlock? Good, pack it. Oh, this one—kills grass instantly? Hah, that’ll make great pesticide. Pack it. All of them—pack everything!”

Dong’e staggered out carrying bundles of poison jars. Looking back at the nearly emptied storeroom, she sighed. Her new mistress clearly wasn’t kindhearted either—carting away all of the Dowager’s precious poisons. Would she, like her predecessor, one day use them against concubines, wiping out rivals?

Alas, perhaps even the most cheerful and innocent woman couldn’t escape corruption in the palace, becoming what she once despised.

Dong’e lifted her eyes to the sky, a heavy feeling in her chest. Surely, the shadow of a demon consort was once again descending upon the palace.

Wei Ying, oblivious to Dong’e’s thoughts, happily skipped back to Yulu Hall with her spoils, humming a tune. She stored the poisons in a cool chamber, ready for use if ever needed.

Time trickled by. With Xiao Qianxue, Gong Beinu, and others gone, the palace grew increasingly desolate.

Autumn winds turned cold, leaves yellowed, geese shifted in the skies.

Wei Ying pulled her robe tight and busied herself like the virtuous consort—making osmanthus cakes from fresh blossoms in the imperial garden, or tending the old grapevine in the golden chamber, watering it, pruning shoots, plucking jeweled purple grapes.

She was good at entertaining herself, even without company, playing with the palace maids. But always, before long, the virtuous Consort dragged her to Changchun Palace.

Consort Xian: “You’ve got time to water grapes, but the palace is drowning in work. Here—deal with this.”

Wei Ying pouted miserably. “Sister Xian~”

Once soft and gentle, Consort Xian had turned into a cold, strict woman. “Go work.”

Wei Ying had no choice but to hang her head and squeeze in with pitiful Lady Li to handle the affairs of the Six Palaces.

Lady Li cast her a resentful glance. “Finally you came.”

Wei Ying was startled. Up close, Lady Li’s face was pale, haggard, dark circles under her eyes. “Sister, are you sick?”

Lady Li sniffled. “I just miss the Empress… the noble consort, the gentle consort, everyone…” She dabbed tears with a handkerchief, whispering, “Tell me, why are weak little concubines like us stuck managing the Six Palaces’ work?”

Her voice broke. “My parents said entering the palace was to enjoy a life of ease. If I had known it would be this hard, I would never have come.”

Consort Xian cleared her throat and gave them both a sharp look. “Sisters, don’t lose focus. There’s still much to do.”

Lady Li nearly fainted, slumping over the desk, trembling as she picked up a brush to scrawl across the papers.

Consort Xian turned her gaze on Wei Ying, smiling sweetly, but with a chill that made Wei Ying’s hair stand on end. “Yingying, I’ve had the doors locked. Don’t even think of sneaking away. Until two hours pass, no one is opening them.”

Wei Ying stared wide-eyed. Her once-gentle sister now looked terrifying.

A devil.

The “devil’s” smile twisted, stabbing the brush down on the memorials like a knife, red cinnabar splattering like blood. Then she lifted the phoenix seal and slammed it down, the thud echoing through the hall.

Lady Li shrank back, trembling against Wei Ying. “Waaah, Consort Xian is getting scarier and scarier.”

Wei Ying: “…She is.”

Indeed, overwork could drive anyone insane. At this rate, Consort Xian might break down, leaving only Wei Ying and Lady Li to collapse next.

Shuddering, Wei Ying resigned herself to the pile of tasks.

Reform of the Six Palaces’ system must happen—she refused to keep working like this!

Two hours later, Wei Ying staggered out of Changchun Palace, clinging to the wall, her face haggard. The little eunuch guarding the gate looked embarrassed. “Your Ladyship, you’ve worked hard.”

Wei Ying: “…”

She leaned on the jade railing, taking a deep breath of freedom.

Lady Li followed, even weaker, gasping by her side. Then Consort Xian emerged, equally exhausted, staring dazedly at the night sky.

“Sisters,” Consort Xian suddenly said. “This year’s selection of new concubines hasn’t started yet. Once it does, we’ll be even busier.”

Lady Li’s eyes rolled back. “What? Even busier?”

Wei Ying’s face went blank. “What? There’s a selection coming up?”

Consort Xian nodded. “According to precedent, there will be an autumn selection. But don’t despair. When new sisters arrive, they’ll share our workload.”

Lady Li: “Great! Let them work, we’ll rest!”

Consort Xian’s face grew solemn. “Exactly.”

Wei Ying: …

Noticing her silence, Consort Xian tilted her head. “Yingying, aren’t you glad?”

Wei Ying shook her head. “Not really.”

Consort Xian narrowed her eyes, but said no more. She leaned on the railing, murmuring, “I’m so tired. If only the Empress were still here.”

Lady Li sighed. “Yes, if only the Empress were still here.”

With the Empress—the ultimate workhorse—things would never have come to this.

Wei Ying: “Sigh.”

The three of them sighed together, leaning on the railing, thinking of the absent mistress of the harem.

As autumn deepened, news of repeated victories over Bei Jue arrived. The Emperor finally showed a smile, her headaches easing.

That night, Wei Ying, after reading a play, rose to grind ink for the Emperor.

Yunshao looked up at her with a smile, face glowing in the lamplight, tender and beautiful.

Wei Ying bent her eyes in a smile. “Your Majesty, hurry and read the memorials. Once you’re done, the night is still long.”

Yunshao lowered her head, picked up a memorial on military affairs. As she read, her lips curved higher. Wei Ying leaned close to read with her.

General Pei Que reported a decisive victory in Changhe Valley, crippling the enemy’s morale. Bei Jue’s forces, low on provisions, were no longer able to fight.

Wei Ying laughed. “Wonderful! Now the war is truly over. Qianxue can return, and they can help me with all this work. Ah—what else does the memorial say? Did Noble Consort criticize me again?”

Yunshao chuckled helplessly. “This memorial from Pei Que was written for me, not you.”

Wei Ying: “Nonsense. Noble Consort always thinks you’re both man and woman… well, not entirely wrong.”

Yunshao glared. “If I’m yin and yang, then you’re yang and yin—we’re a perfect pair.”

They teased each other, flipping the page. But when Yunshao saw the next part, her smile froze. Hastily, she folded the paper away. Too late—Wei Ying had already glimpsed it.

Her eyes lowered, brows drawing together. From that glance, she had caught the gist.

The latter page said: the Prince Consort of Bei Jue had invited the Great Sheng Emperor to Changhe Valley for peace talks. If the Emperor refused, they would expose what she had done back then to the world.

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