I've Decided To Be This Tyrant's Dark Moonlight - Chapter 90

Wei Ying glanced sideways at the Emperor seated beside her.

The beauty kept her head lowered, her gauze hat hiding her face so that no expression could be seen. Only her hand, tightly gripping Wei Ying’s, betrayed a hint of displeasure as she squeezed harder.

Wei Ying: …

These ancestors—could they stop talking already? Some things simply mustn’t be spoken aloud! You’ll get us beheaded, you know!

But those women had no idea what kind of trouble they were courting. Carefree, they went from “execution of the whole family” to “extermination of nine generations” in the blink of an eye, spilling palace secrets and gossip about His Majesty with their chattering mouths.

Xiao Qianxue said, “You can’t put it like that about His Majesty. The Emperor is very diligent. Every time we’re summoned, His Majesty is always reading memorials.”

Consort Xian nodded. “Indeed. His Majesty is truly hard-working, staying up late into the night with documents. Much more diligent than the late Emperor ever was.”

Pei Que folded her arms disdainfully. “If he’s just reading documents every night, then why call you over?”

Xiao Qianxue, simple and guileless, sold the Emperor out without hesitation. “We grind ink for His Majesty! Yingying said this also counts as serving the country. The Empress and Consort Xian even help him review documents. Sometimes I read a little too. I can handle small matters, but I don’t really understand the big ones.”

Pei Que sneered. “So all he has you do is read documents?”

Xiao Qianxue nodded. “We also organize them, sweep the floor, wipe the tables, and make him midnight snacks…”

Pei Que cut her off. “Are you concubines or cleaning maids? His Majesty summons you so often at night, I thought you had his favor. Now it seems—heh.” She threw out a soul-piercing question: “Could it be that His Majesty… isn’t capable?”

Xiao Qianxue’s eyes went round. “W-what?”

Pei Que said bluntly, “I’ve long suspected it. The men of this imperial line—generation after generation—have always been… peculiar. Look at Prince of Luling. The way he dances with a sword, does he look like a proper man to you? And His Majesty—he’s supposed to be a man, yet he looks more beautiful than most women. With so many beauties in the harem, still no heirs. Clearly,” she paused for effect, “clearly His Majesty is incapable.”

Xiao Qianxue nodded slowly, dazed. “Consort, you’re amazing! You guessed it right away. So His Majesty really can’t…”

Consort Xian’s expression grew troubled. She sneaked a glance at the veiled woman beside them, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Pei Que, however, found confirmation in Xiao Qianxue’s agreement. “Exactly. The men of the imperial house—none of them are capable. Why was the late Emperor’s line of heirs so thin? Why do you think?”

Xiao Qianxue’s eyes lit up. “Because the late Emperor wasn’t capable either!”

Pei Que nodded with satisfaction. “The child can be taught.”

Wei Ying: …

She had no choice but to hold tightly onto the Emperor’s hand, afraid this particular ancestor would suddenly lift her veil to assert her imperial dignity.

Luckily, the Emperor twisted her hand only a little, and once Wei Ying gripped her tightly, she obediently leaned against her again.

Wei Ying coughed twice, trying to defend the Emperor. “Don’t say that.”

Pei Que pressed, “So what we said was wrong?”

Wei Ying: …Well, technically, not wrong.

Xiao Qianxue blinked innocently. “Yingying, you’ve shared a bed with His Majesty, haven’t you? Tell us—can His Majesty… or can’t he?”

Wei Ying clasped the Emperor’s hand, interlacing their fingers.

Her Majesty’s hand was soft, skin as smooth and pale as jade, warm to the touch like polished stone.

As soon as Xiao Qianxue asked, the hand Wei Ying held tried to pull away twice, then pinched her lightly on the arm.

Wei Ying immediately seized it again to keep her from moving, and answered candidly, “She can’t.”

Yun Shao tilted her head under the gauze hat, which swayed like flowing water: ???

Wei Ying pressed a hand to her chest. “I can’t betray my conscience.”

That settled it. Xiao Qianxue and Pei Que were utterly convinced. Even Consort Xian was shaken, pulling her sisters close to whisper urgently, “This must never be repeated. Above all, His Majesty must never hear of it. The Emperor has a reputation to maintain!”

Xiao Qianxue nodded vigorously, patting her chest in promise. “We understand! Absolutely no one will know except Heaven, Earth, you, me, Consort, Yingying—and this beauty sitting next to Yingying!” She glanced over. “Yingying, who is she? She won’t tell His Majesty, will she?”

Wei Ying just smiled and shook her head.

Yun Shao slipped free of her grasp and pinched her again. Wei Ying patted the back of her hand, soothing her with a playful scratch, murmuring softly, “Be good, don’t fuss.”

The carriage rolled out of the palace and onto the bustling Zhuque Avenue.

The street was strung with brilliant lanterns. Passersby carried sparklers, strolling with laughter in the festive air.

The customs of the Great Sheng dynasty differed from the places Wei Ying had known. On this day, everyone left their homes to admire the fireworks in the sky. Street vendors sold ornate masks and radiant lanterns.

The Pei family’s mansion was on South Xuanwu Street. Pei Que was eager to return home; the moment the carriage stopped at the crossroads, she lifted the curtain and jumped down.

Xiao Qianxue called after her, “Consort, wait for me!”

Pei Que turned back. “You all go play. I’ll head home first. When you’re done, come find me—we’ll meet up then.”

But Xiao Qianxue quickly lifted her skirts and hopped down too, chasing after her.

Pei Que frowned. “Why are you following me?”

Xiao Qianxue beamed. “I’ll keep you company, of course. I don’t feel safe leaving you alone.”

Pei Que snorted. “Suit yourself.”

Yet they hadn’t gone far before Xiao Qianxue was distracted by the dazzling array of lanterns.

“Wow—that one’s so pretty!”

“Look, this one has the Seven Fairies painted on it—it’s gorgeous!”

…

Pei Que, exasperated, grabbed her and dragged her to a lantern shop.

The shopkeeper looked up to see two celestial-looking young women and immediately brightened. “Which one would the young ladies like?”

Pei Que scowled. “Just pick one. Stop gawking at everything.”

Xiao Qianxue bent down happily to study the designs. Shengjing lanterns were exquisitely made—delicate wooden frames, silk threads forming colorful patterns, and within, candles set inside octagonal glass so that each panel reflected a fine painting.

“Shengjing’s so nice. We don’t have such beautiful lanterns back home,” she murmured softly.

Pei Que had been impatient, but hearing that, her brow furrowed slightly, and she held her tongue, waiting quietly instead.

Xiao Qianxue kept looking until a unique lantern caught her eye. She asked the shopkeeper to take it down with a bamboo pole.

Unlike the others, this one didn’t show auspicious birds or heavenly maidens, but instead depicted a series of battle scenes—an illustrated tale of a general riding to war.

Xiao Qianxue froze. “This is…”

The shopkeeper chuckled. “Ah, that’s General Pei leading the troops to save Yunzhou back then. The neighborhood made it into a story scroll, and I turned it into a lantern. Many boys who dream of making their mark buy this one. Does the young lady want it too?”

Xiao Qianxue nodded firmly. “Yes—I want this one!”

She held the lantern, watching the painted general charge across the panels, almost coming to life in the flickering light.

She spun it again and again, delighting in the shifting images. “Consort, look! Isn’t this general magnificent?”

Pei Que gave it a glance and sniffed. “Not bad. Better looking than my brother, at least.”

Xiao Qianxue’s smile deepened as she peered at the panels. “Hmm? Why isn’t Consort on here?”

Of course, in that war Pei Que had still been young. No one thought to connect her with the campaign of that year.

Pei Que raised a brow, snatching the lantern away. “Of course I’m not on it. I was just a kid then. Don’t look for me. Come on—let’s go eat dumplings.”

Xiao Qianxue chirped, “Yay!”

She trotted after her, then suddenly added, “But Consort, I really did see you guard Yunzhou back then. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Pei Que turned sharply. “What?”

Xiao Qianxue lifted her little chin, smiling brightly. “I really saw it. A little general, with a tiny iron sword, riding a little horse—charging into the Northern Jue army. I saw it with my very own eyes!”

Back then, every able man had taken to the battlefield to defend their home. Xiao Qianxue had followed her mother to the city walls to bring food to the soldiers. Below, the Northern Jue army looked like wolves and tigers, fierce and unstoppable.

Then suddenly—the ground thundered. A column of iron cavalry swept across the endless plain.

It was as if Heaven’s soldiers had descended.

She had crouched behind the parapet, her father shielding her, and glimpsed black-armored riders tearing through enemy ranks like a storm, scattering them into chaos. And among those tall, mighty warhorses—there was a little girl.

Riding a small colt, sword in hand, she galloped fearlessly through the fray.

Xiao Qianxue had strained her eyes to see that tiny figure, somewhere between child and youth, though the swirling smoke had blurred her face.

Later, when Northern Jue was defeated, the old General Pei led his victorious troops into Yunzhou, greeted as heroes.

The streets were lined with cheering people, showering them with dried fruits and flowers. Every general on horseback received blossoms—except the young girl trailing behind on her small mount.

Understandably—at her age, no one thought she’d truly fought.

But Xiao Qianxue had seen her—majestic and brave.

So she had run up with the flowers in her hand, lifted them toward the girl, and gazed up at her little general.

Her little hero.

Shengjing’s night was bright as day, lanterns glowing, crowds bustling.

Xiao Qianxue tilted her head to look at Pei Que. The fireworks on either side faded into insignificance—only the woman before her shone with light.

She smiled and said, “My father always told me: if the sky falls, there will always be someone tall enough to hold it up. But I thought—that’s not fair. Just because someone is taller, must they always bear the weight? And just because I’m small, should I accept that gift without guilt? I want to do something too. I want to…”

If the sky falls, the tall will hold it.

Like the Pei army for the people. Like the Consort for her.

But even the weak are not powerless. At the very least, they can offer a flower and say: You are wonderful. I am grateful.

Pei Que frowned, missing the sentiment entirely. “What nonsense are you spouting? Hurry up, or the dumplings will be cold.”

Xiao Qianxue quickly hitched up her skirts and ran. “Alright, alright, let’s go eat dumplings!”

Pei Que sighed. “No need to run that fast… Hey! You passed it already!”

…

After Consort and Xiao Qianxue departed, the carriage held only Consort Xian, Yun Shao, and Wei Ying.

Consort Xian anxiously clenched her hands, then followed Wei Ying’s advice and took out the mask she had prepared.

She had arranged to meet her correspondent in disguise. She would wear an antelope mask, while Yue Qinghui would wear a fox mask. When they met, she could excuse herself by saying her looks were unsightly and refuse to remove it.

She held the mask tightly, lifting the curtain for a glimpse of the festive street outside.

Wei Ying teased, “Consort, can’t wait any longer?”

Cui Wu smiled faintly, whispering, “I’m a little nervous.”

Wei Ying said, “Don’t be. What’s there to be nervous about? You two have written to each other for so long—you know each other well.”

Cui Wu sighed. “Still, it’s the first time meeting in person.”

When they arrived at the appointed place, the Drunken Immortal Tower, they spotted at once a tall, slender figure standing beneath the lanterns.

That person wore plain azure robes, the hem fluttering like an immortal’s. Her long hair cascaded to her waist. A fox mask covered most of her face, leaving only a delicate white chin visible—ethereal and perfectly suited to the mask’s enchantment.

At a single glance, Cui Wu’s lips curved into a smile. “That must be her.”

She donned her own mask, bade farewell to Wei Ying and Yun Shao, and walked toward the glittering tower lights.

Now only Wei Ying and Yun Shao remained in the carriage.

Only then did Wei Ying notice she was still gripping Yun Shao’s hand. She let go and said, “Your Majesty, shall we go watch the fireworks now?”

Yun Shao inclined her head gently, her veil swaying with the motion.

Wei Ying’s brows arched in a smile. Just as she was about to tell the driver to change course, Yun Shao’s teasing voice came from behind her—

“Yingying, tell me first—who exactly is it that can’t?”

Wei Ying hesitated for two seconds, then patted her own chest with a straight face. “I can’t.”

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