I've Decided To Be This Tyrant's Dark Moonlight - Chapter 111

Pei Que realized she truly couldn’t figure out the emperor and Yingying.

It seemed that the gloomy, ruthless young sovereign she knew was, in Yingying’s eyes, someone completely different.

Perhaps… really another person.

She scratched her head, watching as the emperor swung down from her horse and slowly walked toward Yingying, the harsh autumn wind of the northern frontier whipping the great banners behind her.

Pei Que had never much liked the emperor’s black eyes. They were dark and heavy, always seeming to look at people with aloof scrutiny. But now, standing by Yingying’s side and gazing at the sovereign, she saw for the first time that those eyes could brim with tears, turning soft and humble.

Yunshao’s eyes were tinged red at the corners; she looked uneasily at the woman before her, clutching her sleeves in nervousness and fear. Compared to all the shock and disbelief, the emotions that overwhelmed her were hesitation and panic.

Yingying coughed lightly, her eyes curving in amusement. At just one look from Yunshao, she immediately tugged Pei Que down to kneel together.

At the moment, both Yingying and Pei Que were clad in armor; unless one knew them well, no one would have recognized them as palace consorts.

When they returned to camp, Yunshao performed the necessary formalities, but before long, she dragged Yingying impatiently into her own tent. Pei Jian and Pei Que exchanged a look and tactfully dispersed the surrounding soldiers.

Yingying removed her armor, the pieces clashing together with a crisp metallic sound.

Yunshao leaned against the table, quietly staring at her, saying nothing.

Yingying laughed, tossing the armor onto a nearby weapon rack. Dressed in her black training clothes, her tall, jade-like frame looked sharp and striking, her long hair tied back at the waist. The tightened fabric gave her eyes a faint upward slant, full of sharpness, like a blade drawn from its sheath.

Yunshao’s heart skipped two beats. She stared blankly, utterly dazed, forgetting the time and place.

Thump, thump.

She pressed her chest, unable to stop murmuring: “Yingying, you’re so beautiful…”

Even more beautiful—more like in that former life—gentle yet edged with brilliance.

Yingying shook her head. She thought: The emperor really is such a hopeless pervert. Any moment is enough to leave her staring like a fool. She leaned back against the long table, arms crossed, eyebrows arched, smiling lazily. “Doesn’t Your Majesty have something to say to me?”

Yunshao opened her mouth, her face pale as she stared at her miserably. After a long while, she softly asked: “Yingying… how did you get here? How long have you been here?”

Yingying shrugged. “Not long, just half a month.”

Yunshao tried to speak, lips trembling, but only let out a sharp, ragged breath, like a trapped beast at death’s door. She wanted to ask whether Yingying resented her; whether Yingying, staying at the frontier so long, had seen that man again; whether she remembered the past.

But in the end, the emperor closed her weary eyes, not daring to meet Yingying’s clear gaze. She whispered: “Go back, won’t you?”

Yingying walked slowly toward her. “I’ve already come to the frontier. Do you really think you can send me back?”

Yunshao: “…You won’t go back?”

Yingying said nothing.

Yunshao opened her eyes, staring at her, rims reddened. She asked: “You’ve already seen him, haven’t you?”

Yingying thought for a moment, then nodded. “The prince consort of Beijue? Yes, I just met him.”

Yunshao’s gaze gradually cooled. “So you’ve remembered.”

Yingying: “More or less.”

Ten points short of full integration—not a complete return of memory, but close enough. What the emperor had tried so hard to conceal had already laid itself bare before her eyes.

The maple leaves, the plunge into the lake, the summer fireflies, the autumn grapes…

It was nothing more than a neglected child envying another kind of life. Perhaps she envied too much, until even she believed it was true.

Yunshao looked into Yingying’s eyes and seemed to realize she knew everything. She lowered her head and gave a faint laugh. Covering her lips, her eyes swollen and red, her dark hair falling over her pale cheeks, her shoulders trembled as if in laughter, as if in sobs.

After a while, she lifted her gaze to Yingying, a fire of desperate, unrepentant resolve burning in her dark eyes. She whispered:

“But I will not let go.”

“Even if you wish to leave, I will cage you at my side. Break your wings, forge you a golden prison—it doesn’t matter. Yingying, I won’t let you fly away again.”

Between heaven and earth, she would forge a cage solely for Yingying.

Ascending the throne of nine and five—all of it was only to clutch this person tightly in her grasp.

She was despicable, selfish, cruel; every word was a lie. She stitched together a crumbling illusion, a mirage, only so that in this world, Yingying belonged solely to her and looked only at her.

She murmured: “It’s too late… Even if you want to run to him, it’s no longer possible. I killed my father, killed my brother, clawed my way here. Do you think I’d let you leave me again?”

Yingying tilted her head like a little bird, then suddenly asked: “If I’m caged at your side… will I get meals?”

Yunshao froze, her tear-bright eyes widening. The fierce hostility in them dissipated instantly. She nodded blankly. “Yes… meals.”

Yingying: “And lodging?”

Yunshao, dazed, nodded again. “Lodging.”

Yingying: “And support in old age?”

Yunshao blinked. “Yes.”

Yingying clapped her hands, laughing. “Meals, lodging, and lifelong support? What a bargain!”

Palace System Spirit: … As expected of you.

Yunshao just stared at her blankly, her long lashes trembling, clearly bewildered. Yingying leaned close, tilting her head, and planted a kiss on Yunshao’s pale cheek. She whispered softly: “Your Majesty didn’t misunderstand, did you?”

Yunshao: “…Misunderstand?”

Yingying: “The Beijue prince consort—the enemy’s commander. To win against Beijue, of course we must try to capture the commander. I not only met him, I even ambushed him with arrows from the shadows. Sadly, not a single one hit.”

Yunshao: “…You didn’t want to leave with him?”

Yingying shrugged. “What are you thinking, silly? I was trying to send him away.”

Yunshao seemed relieved, lowering her reddened eyes—then immediately widened them again, staring at her nervously. “But you said you remembered—you’ve met him, he—”

Yingying smiled, her eyes curving. “What about him? He’s just a traitor, a rebel who dragged the realm into war for selfish gain. Our task is simple: defeat the villain and protect peace!”

Yunshao bit her lip, hesitated, then forced herself to ask: “You remember him… You’re lying to me, aren’t you? Do you want to go with him?”

Yingying rubbed her forehead, exasperated. How could she explain to the emperor that she really didn’t want to follow Yunshan—she only wanted to send him away?

She had long since figured it out. In all her past missions, she had rarely been fond of the supposed protagonists. No wonder the story kept glitching—when the main characters themselves had changed.

As a mere cannon fodder with no name, Yunshao should have died in that inferno, taking her brother’s place. But reality had diverged: Yunshao broke free of her fate and escaped from the flames.

Yingying guessed the plot, and she was likely right.

Her mission had failed back then because she only realized after drinking the poison that the protagonist had been replaced. In a way, Yunshao’s survival had indirectly caused her death.

But Yingying had long resolved to bury that secret in her heart.

Across all the worlds she had experienced, she had never encountered such a thing—a character so insignificant in the original story breaking free of fate itself, accomplishing what many dazzling protagonists could not.

She thought: If she died again, she wouldn’t feel resentment at all. On the contrary, she’d be grateful to that young girl from six years ago, who had escaped the flames of fate, knocked on her door, and let her see another possibility of life.

So it was true—someone could escape destiny’s net, break free of the story’s force. And it was true—her pursuit of love wasn’t futile.

Yingying looked at Yunshao, head lowered, eyes reddened at the corners. Her heart softened to the point of aching. She sighed gently. “Your Majesty, you really are such a silly little fool.”

So clever and cunning, yet when it came to this, hopelessly foolish.

From the very beginning, the emperor had spoken strangely—about great birds and fleeting insects, about bright moons and moths. Yet even great birds grow weary, wanting to fall into the sea one day; the moon is always vast, cold, lifeless.

What was so special about her?

Just a woman who lived in another age, who knew a little more, saw a little farther—but who wandered alone from world to world, weary and chilled. While this emperor was pure, fervent, untainted—far more than she could ever be.

Yingying turned the words over and over in her heart. There were so many things she wanted to say, but when they reached her lips, she couldn’t.

She was usually glib and silver-tongued, able to coax anyone. Yet now, seeing the young sovereign silently weeping, all her words turned to silence.

She knew the little emperor was easy to console—a casual compliment would make her beam with joy. But for that very reason, Yingying couldn’t bring herself to say it lightly, afraid that careless words would belittle her true feelings.

After a long while, the sound of muffled sobs filled the tent. The emperor bit her lip, shedding tears quietly.

Yingying felt her own heart ache, and said softly: “Your Majesty, I don’t care about him.”

If she really had, she would not have nearly pieced together all her past memories before even remembering there was once such a male lead. After all her failed missions, after seeing the fickleness of human hearts, she had never developed genuine feelings for her so-called targets.

Protagonists might shine brightly, dazzling and unmatched—but they had nothing to do with her. She was merely a forgotten shadow in their story, a memory of blood and pain, beautiful only because it could never be touched, mourned only because it was forever past.

And if she had lived, would she have been cherished?

She had already found the answer back in her first world, when she watched the two protagonists enter the wedding hall together.

She had never hoped for true love within those little worlds. And yet now, with this blazing sincerity before her, she didn’t know how to handle it.

Yingying: “I never meant to go back to Yunshan. I’ve wandered too long—I just want a place to rest.” Her eyes curved with a smile. “Until I met you. Then I thought… I could stop, and stay by your side. We could wander through the deep mountains, lose ourselves in hidden valleys.”

Yunshao stared wide-eyed, stunned, then drew closer and closer until she finally wrapped her arms around her.

Yingying braced herself and asked: “Do you believe me?”

Yunshao, smiling through tears: “I believe you. I’ll believe anything you say.”

Yingying patted her back, smiling as well.

The truth was, she didn’t even know what “I return to Yunshan” truly meant. Maybe it was just a little ploy to complete her task. Maybe it was simply her mission. After all, the past Yingying was already dead—she could say whatever she wanted now. A dead “white moonlight” could never compete with the living.

Yingying planted her fists on her hips confidently, suddenly thinking the words sounded familiar. Who betrayed whom? Who got betrayed by me?

But no matter. At least she had untied the knot in the emperor’s heart.

She hugged Yunshao and took a deep breath. “Alright, alright—give me some luck, let me draw a good card.”

Yunshao still didn’t understand what “luck” or “drawing cards” meant, but she could vaguely guess. She lifted her watery eyes from Yingying’s embrace and asked: “Is Yunshan more important… or me?”

Yingying didn’t hesitate. “Don’t overthink it, of course you’re more important!”

Yunshao bit her lip. “Then… is luck more important, or me?”

Yingying fell silent, then gave a sheepish smile. “Why ask something like that?”

Yunshao: “Which one is more important?”

Yingying steeled herself. Even without luck, I can always draw strength from her. She said firmly: “Of course you’re more important!”

Yunshao’s lips curved. “Then… is drawing cards more important, or me?”

Yingying fell completely silent.

Yunshao: “Yingying?”

Yingying: …

Yunshao: “Yingying, I’m going to overthink again…”

Yingying lowered her head and silenced her with a kiss.

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