I've Decided To Be This Tyrant's Dark Moonlight - Chapter 91

Immortals leaned drunkenly against the railing, the sound of the flute warming the night; everywhere was filled with music and song.

Cui Wu nervously straightened her mask and took a step forward, then faltered.

She clenched her long sleeves, released them, then clenched them again. Suddenly, a firecracker burst, and she, along with the crowd, turned to look behind.

Above, the moon wheeled over the green peaks; behind, the entire city glittered with lanterns, the night bright as day.

When Cui Wu turned back, the woman wearing a fox mask was already walking toward her. Those long, narrow eyes curved with a faint smile, and under the lantern light glimmered like glazed amber, a shade of honey-brown.

Cui Wu’s heart skipped two beats. Softly she asked, “Qian Qiuyue?”

The woman laughed. “Nian Peng?”

In the crowd, they recognized one another at once, and joy naturally blossomed between them.

Cui Wu had thought she would be terribly nervous, but upon seeing her, it felt like meeting an old friend again. She said nothing of the mask, and Qian Qiuyue didn’t remove hers either. Instead, she naturally took Cui Wu’s hand and led her upstairs.

At the moment their hands touched, Cui Wu gave a faint shiver.

The hand holding hers was soft and delicate, but with a thin callus on the middle finger — as though from holding a brush often.

Cui Wu sighed inwardly: this person had been tricked into coming to Shengjing, with no family to rely on, forced to make a living by writing storybooks — how pitiful. She still remembered how poor her circumstances had been and couldn’t help but remind her, “Seats here are very expensive.”

Xianren Zui Yilou was the gathering place of Shengjing’s scholars, poets, and nobles, located in the busiest district. Every seat was worth a small fortune.

Qian Qiuyue only smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her voice was strangely familiar to Cui Wu. She wanted to make her say more, yet was afraid to be rude. She lowered her head, thinking they had never met before; perhaps it was just the noisy surroundings making her mishear.

Qian Qiuyue led her to the highest floor of Xianren Zui Yilou to enjoy the view.

Cui Wu was secretly astonished — she had reserved the entire top floor, and only the two of them were there. At night the price must be worth thousands of gold; how many storybooks would it take to repay such a sum?

She glanced at the woman beside her. Qian Qiuyue smiled, lifted her hand, and removed her mask.

Above the sharp chin was a pair of pale-pink lips, a straight nose, and higher still, those crescent-curved eyes. Honey-brown pupils, thick lashes casting a faint shadow below.

As the mask lifted, a face of transcendent beauty was revealed.

Cui Wu knew this face all too well, and cried out in shock: “The Empress?”

Yue Qinghui smiled and asked, “Why don’t you take off your mask?”

Cui Wu resignedly removed hers, only to find the clown was herself. She pouted and asked, “So this was your so-called ‘poverty and loneliness’?”

Yue Qinghui tilted her head with a faint smile. “And yours was the ‘ugly face, as plain as dirt’?”

Cui Wu: “…”

Forget it — neither of them should talk.

She rested her hands on the railing, looking up at the lanterns swaying under the eaves.

—

Meanwhile, in a carriage, Yun Yao was still gripping Wei Ying’s hand, her voice cold. “Where are you unwell?”

Wei Ying replied, “I’m not unwell anywhere.”

Yun Yao snapped, “You are not allowed to say you’re not!”

Wei Ying smiled, eyes curving, and patted her hand soothingly. “Alright, alright, I’m fine, Your Majesty. We’ll be fine!” She lifted the carriage curtain and looked outside. “Your Majesty, the fireworks are starting. Let’s hurry to find a good spot.”

She jumped down first, helping Yun Yao out, and held her hand as they walked forward.

The streets were crowded. Wei Ying wore a scarlet gown, over it a gold-embroidered cloak, drawing furtive glances from passersby.

She didn’t care at all, only tightened her grip on Yun Yao’s hand while searching around.

The viewing towers were already packed; it wouldn’t do for the Emperor herself to squeeze with common folk.

Wei Ying’s eyes turned, then lit with an idea. She smiled at Yun Yao: “Your Majesty, I’ll take you somewhere.”

They slipped quietly up the city wall, standing atop the tower, overlooking the lantern-filled streets below.

From such a height, everything could be seen clearly. On Xianren Zui Yilou’s terrace, two masked figures whispered together. In South Vermilion Bird Street, someone knocked on a family’s door.

The booming firecrackers tore apart the dark.

Brilliant fireworks shot into the sky, blossoming one after another against the black canvas.

People lifted their heads to watch the dazzling display, praying for the new year — peace, prosperity, and a flourishing world.

Wei Ying raised her head to the fireworks, when suddenly she felt a gaze upon her. Turning, she met Yun Yao’s burning eyes.

The Emperor’s gaze was as fervent as always, fixed entirely upon her.

Around them, the noise, fireworks, and crowd were nothing — she saw only Wei Ying, as though Wei Ying were her entire world.

Wei Ying laughed softly. “Why does Your Majesty keep looking only at me?”

Yun Yao, expression dazed, said tenderly, “Because once my eyes hold you, Yingying, they can hold nothing else.”

Wei Ying’s heart skipped.

After wandering through so many worlds, she had finally met someone who saw only her, and nothing else.

Yet instead of joy, she felt a heavy, aching emotion in her chest. After a long moment, she realized: it was heartache.

The Emperor demeaned herself into the dust, and that made Wei Ying’s heart ache.

She turned her head to meet Yun Yao’s gaze, whispering, “The fireworks are beautiful. Won’t Your Majesty look at them?”

Yun Yao shook her head, smiling. “Not as beautiful as you.”

Wei Ying lifted the veil of gauze covering her face and met those deep black eyes. She gazed intently. “Your Majesty, you can’t only look at one person. You yourself are the most important.”

She had long known the truth: to live well, one must love oneself more. And now she tried to make Yun Yao understand.

Yun Yao nodded. “Mm.”

Wei Ying paused, then asked, “Your Majesty, could you perhaps… not love me so much?”

For one day, she would have to leave this world. When that day came, what would become of the Emperor?

Yun Yao was silent for a long while, emotions flickering in her dark eyes. At last she said softly, “I cannot, Yingying.”

The night breeze blew, lanterns swayed, the gauze fluttered like waves, brushing Wei Ying’s hand with a chill.

She looked into Yun Yao’s eyes again. “Then… can you love yourself more?”

Yun Yao gazed at the girl, her eyes filled only with her. She had never refused Wei Ying anything, yet now again, she fell into silence.

“Boom—”

Fireworks spun skyward, blooming one after another behind Wei Ying.

The new year had arrived. From below came cheers and laughter, as people lifted their faces and wished together for a better year ahead.

Rainbow fireworks blanketed the entire sky, a sea of radiant light.

Yun Yao lifted her gaze; the fireworks reflected in her eyes, bright as if they held a galaxy. Looking at Wei Ying, she smiled softly, her eyes filled with only one person.

“I cannot do it, Yingying,” she whispered.

She never had been able to.

“Boom—”

The fireworks grew more dazzling, resounding through the night.

In the military quarters, dumplings were finally placed in boiling water. On Xianren Zui Yilou’s terrace, two golden cups clinked lightly together, a drop of crystal wine falling to earth.

Wei Ying looked at Yun Yao. The beauty’s smile was tender, a vermilion mark burning between her brows.

Her chest tightened more and more, emotions swelling, tangled. How could there be such a person? How could there be someone both so cunning and so foolish?

The fireworks lit up the entire capital.

On the city tower, the wind howled. Wei Ying lifted Yun Yao’s veil and leaned in for a kiss. She cupped the back of Yun Yao’s head, kissing first gently, then more fiercely, biting like a beast.

Yun Yao tilted her head up, silently yielding, a tear sliding down her cheek.

…

That night, everyone returned to the palace with their own thoughts.

Xiao Qianxue shared her news about the child. “Yingying, let’s go back together!”

Wei Ying shook her head. “You and Consort Xian go ahead. I have something to do.”

Xiao Qianxue tilted her head. In the dim carriage, she thought Wei Ying’s lips looked a bit swollen — or maybe it was her imagination. She turned excitedly. “Consort Xian and I made dumplings together! General Pei even praised mine as delicious!”

Pei Que snorted. “Feed him pig slop, and my brother would still think it’s good.”

Xiao Qianxue wasn’t discouraged in the least, her enthusiasm undimmed. She asked brightly, “Consort Xian, did you enjoy yourself today?”

Cui Wu curved her lips, her smile tinged with bittersweetness. “Yes.”

Xiao Qianxue cheered. “Then it’s a good omen! Next year will be even better for all of us!”

Wei Ying only smiled.

When the carriage reached the palace, she tugged the Emperor back to the golden chamber, where the dragon robe hung on its stand.

Yun Yao reached to take the robe, intending to change back into her imperial attire, but before she could, Wei Ying pressed her against the wall and kissed her hard again. Yun Yao let the robe fall, wrapping her arms around Wei Ying’s neck, deepening the kiss.

They toppled together onto the bed. Wei Ying leaned over her, kissing until the beauty beneath her was breathless, eyes glazed with moisture, the vermilion between her brows glowing like flame.

Wei Ying gazed at her for a long moment, then said softly, “Your Majesty… why don’t we give it a try?”

Yun Yao’s eyes widened, stunned, hardly daring to breathe.

Wei Ying brushed back the loose strands of hair at her cheek. “Let’s try, alright?”

Yun Yao’s voice was husky. “Yingying… what do you mean, try?”

Wei Ying thought a moment, then said slowly, “I’ll try to learn how to love you; you try to learn how not to love me so much.”

Tears welled in Yun Yao’s eyes. “I cannot learn that, Yingying.”

Seeing her on the verge of tears, eyes rimmed red, Wei Ying’s emotions were tangled and heavy. She lowered her head to kiss her eyes, her own voice hoarse. “If you can’t… then forget it.”

She bent down, biting at the Emperor’s pale neck, leaving a red mark. Yun Yao froze, then kissed her again, hands tugging at Wei Ying’s sash.

The bed curtains swayed faintly, their sashes tangled together. Through tears, Yun Yao squinted up at the embroidered phoenix above, doubled in her vision, as though two birds were flying neck to neck.

…

After their reckless passion, Yun Yao lay weak-limbed upon the bed.

Wei Ying checked the time and urged the Emperor to put on the dragon robe again, so they returned to the Hall of Mental Cultivation — where once more, they did it again.

Later, Wei Ying patted her smooth back. “Your Majesty, take a bath before bed. I already had Fushou prepare hot water.”

Too tired, Yun Yao half-closed her eyes, murmured an assent, then after resting a while dragged herself up, waist weak, to bathe.

Wei Ying had already washed and sat wiping her damp hair with a soft towel. Her gaze drifted idly — and fell upon the purple sandalwood chest. Her brows creased ever so slightly.

Support