I've Decided To Be This Tyrant's Dark Moonlight - Chapter 76

Night had fallen. A few sparse stars flickered against the pitch-black sky.

Wei Ying pushed the door open and walked into the courtyard. She looked up at the withered yellow branches above her head, where a thin, pale crescent moon hung like it had been caught on the twigs. Its cold white glow coated everything in silver frost, adding to the bleakness of the season. No matter how golden and splendid the forests looked by day, it was still late autumn now.

This was the second autumn she had spent in this world since waking up here.

In the past, when she carried out missions, Wei Ying rarely paid attention to the passage of time—she only kept her eyes on the progress bar.

Once she had completed her objective, she didn’t care whether years or months had passed—she would simply drop everything and leave.

Time flowed differently between the main world and these little worlds. As someone from the main world, she neither needed nor ought to concern herself with the rising and setting of suns, the shifting of stars, within these missions.

Thinking back on it now, she realized she had been arrogant—aloof and condescending—watching the joys and struggles of people in these worlds with cold detachment. Perhaps the male leads in those stories had eventually fallen in love with the heroine, driven by the pull of fate, but that didn’t mean they had never once given a piece of their heart to her.

Wei Ying closed her eyes for a moment and pressed at her brow.

Yet as a mission-taker, she had to keep herself clear-headed—she had to peel apart the distinction between mission worlds and her true world. A fleeting romance beneath a grape arbor could only ever be treated as a casual playthrough of some video game; a heart of flesh and blood was something she had to toss aside as if it were grass or dust.

But after wandering through so many tangled worlds, she had long since become lost among them.

She kept telling herself—this wasn’t wrong.

After all, they would forget her in the end. They would fall in love with someone else.

She had always treated these experiences like game clearances, never thinking much of them—yet, in this world, she had allowed herself to think a little more.

Perhaps it was because the emperor was too devoted, too deeply infatuated. Even after so many years, he could recognize her in a different body. He was also the only one who, when faced with both the heroine and her, had chosen her without the slightest wavering.

A pair of deep black eyes flashed before her mind’s eye—Yun Shao’s—and Wei Ying’s heart skipped two beats. She thought, she truly is different from everyone else.

“Yingying.” Xiao Qianxue pushed open the courtyard gate and entered, smiling. “What are you standing here daydreaming for?”

Wei Ying was startled, then instinctively shook her head. “Nothing.”

Qianxue studied her for a while before smiling. “What’s the matter? Does Yingying have something on her mind?”

Wei Ying turned her head aside, letting Qianxue see the leaves clinging to the branches above. She spoke softly, “It’s been a year.”

Qianxue brightened. “That’s right! We’ve known each other for a year now.” She seized Wei Ying’s hand, her smile radiant. “I never thought you’d remember this too. I thought I was the only one who cared.”

Wei Ying’s lips curved. “Why wouldn’t you think I remembered?”

Qianxue paused, gazing at her. The girl stood there in the bleak autumn wind, layers of soft gauze fluttering around her like petals unfurling. She remembered that first meeting: the pale, frail girl sitting in the carriage, coughing until her eyes turned red, with autumn water welling in her gaze.

A glimpse that stunned her.

From the very first moment, she had felt distance from Wei Ying. The girl seemed too insubstantial, like a wisp of cloud or a trace of wind—something that would slip away the moment she tried to grasp it. At first, Qianxue thought it was because Wei Ying was weak and sickly, giving her that fleeting, unreal air.

But now Wei Ying stood before her, no longer pale or gaunt. Her eyes shone like cold stars, black hair flowing over snowy skin and red lips.

Vibrant, alive, dazzling as a blooming rose.

And yet, Qianxue still felt she could not hold onto her.

After much thought, a line of poetry suddenly leapt into her mind: A beauty like a flower, separated by clouds in the heavens.

Beautiful she was indeed—but always as if separated by a veil of cloud, like someone not of this earth, aloof and indifferent, out of place in this world.

Wei Ying only smiled.

Qianxue tugged her along. “Yingying, what happened in the forest this time? Did Prince Luling bully you?”

Wei Ying glanced at the moon hanging above the branches, then at the heroine’s concerned face. She decided to tell her a little about what happened in the woods. After all, the gift was still there waiting—it wouldn’t run away.

She remembered the guard she had encountered that afternoon, frowned slightly, and after dealing with the heroine, she had run into the imperial consort.

Consort Pei grabbed her sleeve and pulled. “Yingying, I need to speak with you.”

“What is it?” Wei Ying asked.

Pei turned, fixing her with a look. “Something feels wrong.”

Wei Ying tilted her head. “Wrong?”

Xiao Qianxue, who had intended to leave but tagged along instead, chimed in, “Really? Does it?”

Pei said, “Haven’t you noticed? There are more guards patrolling the summer palace than usual.” Since Wei Ying had never joined an autumn hunt, she explained, “I come every year. It’s never been like this before.”

“And what’s more,” she added, “we were attacked by assassins earlier today. With so many guards present, how could assassins still manage to reach your carriage? Either they’re all useless—or this was deliberate.”

Wei Ying nodded.

In the original story, the heroine blocked a blade for the emperor and was then sent back home, so this whole autumn hunt arc hadn’t been described. In the end, the emperor returned safely to the palace.

Logically, even if something odd was afoot, it shouldn’t turn into a true disaster.

Qianxue’s eyes widened. “So what you’re saying, Consort, is… it’s not safe here?”

Pei spared her a glance but didn’t bother with the title “Consort Sister.” Pressing at the hilt of her sword, she said, “Normally my men would be among the escorts, but this time they’re all unfamiliar faces. I heard this hunt was arranged by Minister Zhang Ke.”

Wei Ying: “Ah, one of my unfilial descendants.”

Qianxue nearly choked. “What?! Yingying, you have grandchildren?!”

Pei chuckled. “These traitors call the emperor their lord and father. By seniority, they are unfilial descendants. And this one—he belongs to the Empress Dowager’s faction.”

Wei Ying pressed her lips together, catching the scent of some IQ-burning conspiracy.

Pei invited, “Come walk with me?”

“Where to?” Wei Ying asked.

“To Prince Luling’s quarters. He’s close to the Empress Dowager. And… if anything happens to His Majesty during the hunt, Prince Luling would naturally be the next emperor.” Pei’s face twisted with distaste. “That effeminate creature as emperor? Great Sheng would be doomed.”

Wei Ying thought—the emperor is still waiting for her to open his gift.

But her situation now was like being invited by an important NPC. If she refused, she might miss a crucial clue. And this clue was tied to the emperor’s very life. So without further hesitation, she nodded and followed the consort to sneak near Prince Luling’s residence.

Qianxue tagged along happily.

They crouched under the window, listening as Prince Luling whined inside.

Prince Luling was miserable.

“Commander Wei, do you think when His Majesty sliced that venison for me, he meant something else?” He touched his head, making sure it was still attached to his neck before sighing in relief. “Do you think His Majesty wants to kill me?”

Commander Wei glanced at him, lowering his eyes to conceal his scorn.

He had thought Prince Luling would be a heroic figure. Instead, he was nothing but a coward.

His Majesty had merely cut a piece of meat for him—why was he so terrified? Like a mouse catching sight of a cat!

Wei thought of his own mission and sighed inwardly. “Your Highness, you’re overthinking.”

Prince Luling whimpered, “What do you know?”

Wei considered explaining further, but seeing the prince’s pitiful state, he swallowed the words. There was no point. Instead, he said, “It’s late, Your Highness. Best to rest early.”

Prince Luling clutched his blanket and whimpered again. “Then don’t leave! Stay here to protect me!”

Commander Wei: ???

Prince Luling shuddered. “You don’t know how terrifying His Majesty’s women are.”

Commander Wei: ???

What—he was actually afraid of the emperor’s women?

Thinking back on the delicate concubines, Commander Wei shook his head. “Yes, even the noble consort—she might once have been a general, but she’s still just a woman. How much strength could a woman possibly have? What’s there to fear?”

Prince Luling gripped the quilt tighter and cursed. “You fool, what do you know! Are they even women? They’re not human at all!”

Outside the window, Wei Ying and Qianxue desperately held down Consort Pei’s shoulders.

“Consort, deep breaths! Don’t get angry!”

“Yes, the bigger picture matters!”

Pei gritted her teeth. “I swear I’ll cut down those two freaks right now.”

Wei Ying said, “Oh, we’ll cut them eventually. Just not now.” She patted the consort’s back in a whisper. “Don’t be mad. It doesn’t seem like anything major is happening. I’ll leave you to it.”

Pei clenched her fists. “I still feel something’s wrong!”

Wei Ying waved a hand, deciding to leave this “wrongness” investigation to the heroine and the consort. After all, in the original story nothing truly bad happened. And even if something did… it wouldn’t matter. Plot armor would keep them safe.

Pei chose to stay and keep watch, and Qianxue remained loyally at her side.

Once she’d finished dealing with the emperor’s women, Wei Ying looked up at the waning moon above—it was already late.

She thought about what the emperor had said earlier at the hunting grounds, wondering whether there was still any need to go.

If His Majesty truly wanted her to have the gift, opening it tomorrow wouldn’t be too late. Besides, it was so late now—he might already be asleep, and she didn’t want to disturb him.

But after some thought, she decided to go anyway—just quietly, so as not to wake him. After all, standing him up like this, even with reason, felt wrong.

Would the emperor be angry?

Wei Ying pictured his sulky, furious face and nervously touched her lips—yet they couldn’t help but curve upward again.

Truth be told, she was also a little curious about this so-called gift he had prepared for her.

When she reached the doors of his quarters, she saw Eunuch Fushou standing outside with a troubled face, head bowed.

Wei Ying approached with a smile. “Eunuch, why are you still out here so late?”

Fushou, who had just endured the emperor’s wrath, forced a smile uglier than crying. “Your Ladyship, why are you only coming now?”

Wei Ying felt another pang of guilt, brushing at her lips. “Something came up.”

The eunuch sighed. “Ah, Your Ladyship… you’d best not go in right now. His Majesty is furious. He just had a great outburst of anger, and even said, said…”

Wei Ying tilted her head. “Said he didn’t want to see me?”

Fushou dared not answer.

Seeing his expression, Wei Ying turned to leave—but after two steps, she stopped and looked back. “Did His Majesty forbid me to enter?”

The eunuch wiped the sweat from his brow. “Not exactly, but… His Majesty is in a terrible mood. If you go in now, you’ll be walking straight into the fire.”

Wei Ying smiled, turned back, and breezily pushed open the doors.

“No decree means no problem,” she said shamelessly. “I think His Majesty does want to see me.”

The palace attendants on either side gaped in shock.

Never before had they seen someone so eager to shove their own head under the executioner’s blade!

Fushou hesitated, torn between fearing the emperor might lash out at her, or fearing she might lash out at the emperor instead. In the end, he could only step aside. “Then go in, Your Ladyship. His Majesty…”

Surely His Majesty wouldn’t truly be angry with her.

Inside, the lamps glowed dimly, the light hazy.

Wei Ying had taken only a few steps when her foot crunched on shards of porcelain scattered across the floor. She quietly shifted aside, recognizing the remains of a flower vase once kept by the wall.

The farther she went, the stranger the objects strewn about became.

At first, one might say it was simply the emperor smashing things in anger—but then—

She bent down and picked up a long strip of red silk ribbon, frowning. What on earth is this?

A few steps more, she found a dragon robe, inner garments, and even a perfumed chest wrap, all discarded on the ground.

And these?

Had His Majesty just put on some kind of striptease performance?

From beneath the quilt on the bed, the emperor’s voice growled, back turned to her: “Who let you in? Didn’t I say everyone was to leave?”

Wei Ying asked, “Did that include me?”

Yun Shao recognized her voice, clenched her hands, nearly turned around—but stopped herself, burying her head deeper under the covers. Her muffled reply came: “Yingying, why are you here so late?”

“…Is Your Majesty angry with me?” Wei Ying asked.

Yun Shao hid even further, dark curls spilling over the black silk quilt, gleaming in the candlelight.

Wei Ying walked closer and bent down. “If Your Majesty is angry, shall I go back?”

Yun Shao instantly thrust out a hand from under the quilt. “Yingying, don’t go!” She pouted, sulky. “Why did you only come now?”

Wei Ying ruffled her hair. “I was caught up with something.”

Yun Shao was still displeased.

Wei Ying asked, “So… is Your Majesty going to unwrap the gift for me?”

Yun Shao murmured, “It’s already unwrapped.”

Wei Ying frowned in confusion, staring at her. “Where is it?”

Yun Shao lowered her head, a faint blush rising on her pale cheeks. Softly, she said, “Right before your eyes.”

Wei Ying blinked, puzzled. “What?”

Yun Shao slowly sat up, quilt clutched around her. She stole a glance at Wei Ying, eyes misted with unshed tears, lips bitten pink beneath her teeth. The lamp by the bed cast a gentle glow, painting her in delicate beauty.

Only now did Wei Ying notice the carefully painted makeup—the pearl adornments below her eyes like twin teardrops, the crimson at the corners of her eyes both exquisite and alluring.

The beauty lowered her head slightly, long curled hair falling to one side, bound loosely by a peacock hairpin inlaid with sapphires, the dangling tassels shimmering.

Her grip on the quilt loosened. The covers slid to her waist, revealing skin as flawless as carved white jade.

Wei Ying’s eyes widened. She strode forward and abruptly pushed the emperor back onto the bed.

Yun Shao gasped in surprise, then her expression lit with anticipation. She smiled. “So eager?”

But Wei Ying only yanked the quilt up over her, then grabbed the red ribbon from earlier and tied both emperor and blanket into a tight bundle—wrapping her up like a zongzi. Once the knot was secure, she clapped her hands, bent to trim the lamp wick, and hid her frantic heartbeat behind the casual gesture.

Yun Shao: …

The red ribbon had indeed been put to use on her body—but the method of use was worlds apart from what she had imagined.

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