I've Decided To Be This Tyrant's Dark Moonlight - Chapter 112

Outside the tent, Pei Jian and Pei Que, the brother and sister, were staring at each other with deep, complicated looks.

Pei Jian: “?”

Pei Que: “??”

Pei Jian: “???”

Pei Que was the first to lose patience. “What are you staring at? Haven’t you seen your general before?”

Pei Jian said, “No, it’s just—sis…”

“Get lost! Who’s your sister!” Pei Que turned on her heel and left.

Seeing this, Pei Jian hurried after her, chattering away. The surrounding soldiers spotted Pei Jian and greeted him warmly, but he wasn’t in the mood to respond. He lowered his voice and asked, “Sis, why did you come here? Weren’t you supposed to be at the temple?”

Pei Que gave him a cold glare, too lazy to answer.

Pei Jian, long used to his sister’s indifference, carried on babbling. “Does His Majesty know? Does Father know? How long have you been here? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hmph. His Majesty already told you I was at Yunwai Temple. If you had actually gone to look for me, you’d have known whether I was there or not.” Pei Que shot back sharply, “So clearly, you never went looking for me.”

Pei Jian quickly explained, “I did! The first time I went, they told me there were wild boars in the mountains, and you’d gone hunting them. The second time, they said there were tigers, and you’d gone after those. The third time I went, they told me there was an evil flood dragon in the river, and you’d taken people to slay it.” He pulled a notebook from his robe. “I even drew you a picture. Look, doesn’t it capture the spirit?”

Pei Que glanced sideways. On the page was a little stick figure with bean-sized eyes and drooping brows, holding a sword. On the tip of the sword was skewered a black squiggly worm, its head crowned with two tufts of grass.

Pei Jian exclaimed, “Tsk, tsk, that’s no worm! That’s clearly a dragon! I’ve decided to name this masterpiece Little Que’s Dragon-Slaying Legend. I’ll hang it in the entry hall for everyone to admire. What do you—ah! Why are you hitting me!”

The two of them scuffled, just like when they were children.

Back then, General Pei had named his son and daughter Jian and Que, meaning “to cut down treachery, to guard the palace gates.” Later, they had followed him on campaigns, learning the art of war and honing their skills.

Pei Que had won battle honors again and again, shattering people’s prejudice against women. But all her glory had ended six years ago. During a night battle, she was gravely injured, hovered on the brink of death several times, and barely pulled through.

That day had been torment for General Pei as well.

As a general, he wanted to defend the empire. As a father, he wanted to protect his children. The mission of “cutting down treachery, guarding the palace” was too perilous, a road paved with blood.

After keeping vigil by his daughter’s bedside for an entire night, the iron-willed general made his decision: he sent both children back to the capital. Pei Que entered the palace and became a lofty imperial consort; Pei Jian entered the Ministry of War to take up a civil post far from the battlefield.

As for himself, he remained like an iron fortress at the frontier, fulfilling his duty to guard Great Sheng.

Pei Jian suddenly thought of something and grabbed his sister’s sleeve. “Where’s Father?”

Pei Que replied, “Father led troops to defend Zhanghuai, in case the Beijue forces bypass Yunzhou to strike Qingzhou.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Pei Jian hesitated, then raised his eyes to hers. “You came here… Father didn’t beat you half to death?”

Pei Que snorted, face proud as she turned away. “No!”

Pei Jian pressed, “Then what did he say?”

After a long silence, Pei Que’s hand rested on her sword hilt. She lifted her face to the sky, where the blue expanse was gilded with gold by the sunlit clouds. A sharp, proud smile spread across her lips, making her seem once again like the young general on a white horse.

“He said I can make my own choices now, that he won’t decide my life for me anymore. And…” Pei Que’s face flushed slightly, and she boasted to her brother, “See? Daddy loves me best!”

Pei Jian snapped back, “Nonsense! I’m the one he loves most!”

Wei Ying drew two cards—one a modification card, the other a golden legendary card.

[Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix]: Phenomenon card. A phoenix descends, a hundred birds gather, the realm prospers, and hearts turn in loyalty.

Wei Ying scratched her cheek in puzzlement. The card looked powerful, but also strangely useless. She tucked it away, then rummaged through her stash for a few low-level cards like Heart-Pounding First Love, and slipped them into her robe just in case.

But something felt wrong. Her chest was heavy, almost suffocating. The emperor had gone off with Pei Que and the others to discuss military matters, leaving her bored in the tent. So she pulled out the book again.

Her face darkened as she saw it.

The cover was blurred, the whole book distorted and crumbling, on the verge of falling apart.

Wei Ying: …

So this is the “power of the plot”?

Palace-Fight Assistant: It’s trying its best.

Even through the pages, you could feel how hard it was struggling!

But really—one character had killed off the real male lead out of nowhere, and another kept twisting the story until it bent in circles. The poor little plot-thread had really done all it could!

Wei Ying flipped quickly to the last page. The earlier ones were broken and unreadable, words twisted. Only the final page remained, and even that was different from the original ending. Most of it was blurred into mosaic, except for five stark characters:

The Emperor dies at Changhe Valley.

Wei Ying’s heart sank. She stared at those words in silence for a long time, then slowly closed the book, her eyes narrowing. Her fingers rubbed lightly against the desk as the wind rattled the tent flap.

At some point, rain began to fall. It pattered hard against the tent roof, gusting through the flapping curtains, snuffing out the lamp on the table. Darkness closed in.

Wei Ying curled up in bed like a cocoon, feeling unmoored and helpless for the first time. She shut her eyes, and memories came flooding back.

Years ago, there had been another cold, rainy night like this.

It was her birthday. The little girl sat obediently in front of her cake, waiting.

The candles melted slowly, dripping multicolored wax onto the cream.

Outside, rain lashed the windows so hard it seemed the glass would shatter.

She curled into the sofa and asked the household robot, “When will Mom and Dad come home?”

The robot answered in her mother’s gentle voice: ‘We’ll be back soon. Happy birthday, sweetheart.’

“When will Mom and Dad come home?”

‘We’ll be back soon. Happy birthday, sweetheart.’

“Mom and Dad… my birthday is already over.”

The clock hands pointed to midnight. The little girl lowered her head in disappointment. Her parents never came home. Instead, a tape arrived: footage of them completing a mission in some S-class world, only to be lost in a space-time rift on their return. They never came back.

She was abandoned.

The child who once had a whole planet and was spoiled like a princess lost everything overnight. She was sent to an orphanage on another planet, even parted from her little robot.

After that, she drifted through many worlds, never daring to love anyone from them—but still longing for someone who would never, ever leave her behind.

Wei Ying huddled in the corner of the bed, head buried in her knees, once again that child waiting for parents who would never return. She had thought herself grown, strong, and independent, knowing only she could rely on herself. But some nights, in the cold rain, she fell back into that endless nightmare.

Palace-Fight Assistant: “Host? Are you okay?”

Wei Ying: “I’m fine. Just remembering. The emperor isn’t back yet… Chickie, why don’t you tell me a story?”

Palace-Fight Assistant thought, then asked: “The Princess and the Pea? The Little Mermaid?”

Wei Ying laughed. “What do you take me for, a little kid?”

“My program has lots of children’s books loaded. But you’ve probably heard them all.”

Wei Ying raised a brow. “Wait, even mission systems have to come with bedtime stories now? What are you, a nanny bot?”

After a pause, it said seriously: “I used to be a household robot, retrofitted.”

Wei Ying’s curiosity was piqued. She sat up cross-legged. “Oh? Didn’t you say you were the latest model? Aren’t household robots usually scrapped directly? Why would anyone spend big money to refit you?”

“I’m different.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know why. But the people who refitted me said—I was different.”

Wei Ying asked, “What did you do that made you so different?”

After a long pause, it said, “After I was discarded, I was sent to the scrapyard planet for destruction.”

Wei Ying nodded. That was standard. Old or irreparable household robots were all shipped off to be dismantled.

“On the scrapyard planet, I found an abandoned spaceship. It took me years to find the parts and repair it, but I did. Then I flew away.”

Wei Ying’s jaw dropped. She clapped. “Amazing! My system is incredible! But why did you want to leave the scrapyard planet?”

Robots weren’t supposed to have desires or needs. They were programs, not people. For one to repair a ship and escape was as absurd as a washing machine reassembling itself and running away from a garbage truck.

Its voice carried a strange undertone: “I wanted to find my little master.”

Wei Ying blinked. “Huh?”

“When I was bought, my mission was to stay by her side, make her happy. But when she left me, she wasn’t happy. So I wanted to find her, to keep her company.”

Wei Ying asked softly, “Then how did you become a system? Did you find her?”

After a pause: “…In the end, I did.”

Wei Ying smiled at the happy ending. “And did she find happiness?”

“She was always loved, never abandoned. She just never realized it. But if she keeps her heart shut, sinking into the sea, then she’ll never see the seasons again.”

At that moment, the tent flap was thrown open. Yunshao entered, shedding her rain-soaked cloak and the chill with it.

She asked, “Yingying, who were you talking to?”

Wei Ying straightened up and smiled sweetly. “An old friend. Your Majesty, have you decided how to fight the Beijue?”

Yunshao sat beside her. “When the skies clear in a couple of days, we’ll march into Changhe Valley.”

Even Wei Ying, who knew nothing of warfare, could tell this was unwise.

“Your Majesty, are you really set on this? What if it’s an ambush? Did Pei Que and Pei Jian agree?”

Yunshao’s eyes clouded with doubt and struggle. At length she murmured, “It’s reckless, but… but… I must go to Changhe Valley.” Her brows knitted tighter. “I must go. And the two ministers… they agreed.”

Wei Ying leaned back slightly. It felt as though countless invisible threads were pulling at the emperor, manipulating her actions. Unaware she was under the control of the plot, Yunshao smiled faintly. “I just can’t wait anymore. I need to settle this. Once I kill him, Yingying, we’ll return to Shengjing together. Then we’ll—”

Wei Ying pressed a hand to her lips. “Your Majesty, don’t jinx it!”

Her lips were warm and soft beneath Wei Ying’s palm. Stroking them absentmindedly, Wei Ying sighed.

The plot was making its final desperate attempt, trying to wrench the story back on track, to replace this emperor who had been a stand-in for six years. Its influence was subtle but pervasive—so much so that even Pei Que and Pei Jian, who should have opposed the emperor’s rash march, had agreed without protest.

Wei Ying clasped Yunshao’s icy hand.

The emperor, sensing her unease, squeezed back and tilted her head. “Yingying?”

Wei Ying rested her head on Yunshao’s shoulder, uncharacteristically soft. “Your Majesty, I’m coming with you. You must never leave me behind again.”

Even under the plot’s sway, Yunshao instinctively resisted when it came to Wei Ying. “No. Too dangerous. You must stay here.”

Wei Ying sighed, cupping Yunshao’s face in both hands, and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips.

The emperor’s eyes widened, quickly misting over.

Wei Ying thought: all along, she had been like a greedy child hoarding candy, never satisfied no matter how much love she received. But now, at last, she wanted to loosen her grip, to hand that treasured candy to someone else.

I’ll share my love with you. Don’t cry anymore.

I love you.

I want to stay with you.

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