The White Moonlight Turns Out to Be a Black-Hearted Lotus - Chapter 12

The flowers were blooming, and birds perched upon the branches, chirping and twittering.

He lowered his head, stroking the feathers of the small bird resting on his wrist, while his mother gently caressed his hair. She then fastened a silver bell to his waist.

He asked, “Mother, why are you hanging this on me?”

His mother kissed his forehead with tender affection and said, “Wear this, and when the Soul-Snatcher comes, he will mistake you for a girl. Since the person won’t match his records, he won’t take you away.”

He had just recovered from a serious illness then. His mother looked at him with a faint smile, though a hint of sorrow seemed to linger between her brows.

The young child did not understand his mother’s melancholy; he only felt the weight of the jade pendant and golden lock hanging from his waist, now joined by a silver bell. He spun around in place, and it let out a crisp ding-dang chime.

Suddenly, the sky turned dark. Darkness swallowed everything. In a panic, Pei Xu looked up, trying to find his mother’s figure, but all that met his eyes was a thick, ink-like night where he could not even see his own hand.

Suddenly, a light flickered in the distance. The sparks danced in his pupils, making his pale face appear even more bloodless.

It was fire.

An ominous fire.

The Governor of Bingzhou had always been extravagant, dissipated, and tyrannical in his taxation, which had already caused public resentment to reach a boiling point. Now, he had embezzled the relief funds and grain sent by the imperial court for disaster victims. The people, unable to endure any longer, finally rose in rebellion.

The war ignited by the displaced refugees soon swept through the entire Bingzhou. Although the counties under Pei Ji’s rule were not wealthy, they were relatively stable, and thus quickly became targets for the refugees to plunder.

The timing was incredibly unfortunate, coinciding with Pei Ji’s promotion and return to the capital. They hadn’t even had the chance to leave before they were chased onto the official highway by the refugees.

To lighten the load of the carriage and run faster, the gold, silver, silks, paintings, and ancient books were all thrown out, yet the speed was still not enough.

Pei Ji poked his head out to look at the refugees trailing behind the carriage, their eyes red with hunger. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he repeated neurotically, “No… I can’t let them catch us. What else is there? What else is useless…”

His gaze searched the interior of the carriage, which had already been stripped bare, finally settling on the three other living souls besides himself.

Pei Xu, the old wet nurse who cared for him, and his mother.

Pei Ji gave him a complicated look, then shifted his gaze toward the other two in the carriage.

Zhou Wenyu’s face was very pale. When Pei Ji looked at her, she seemed to realize what he intended to do. But she did not resist; she allowed her body to be pushed out of the carriage with a gentle shove. Perhaps she believed that even a tiger does not eat its cubs, and that this man would spare their child.

“Mother!” Pei Xu let out a terrified cry, about to jump off the carriage after her. Half his body was already out when the wet nurse covered his mouth and dragged him back.

The elderly nurse covered his mouth, refusing to let him make a sound. Tears and snot streaming down her face, she knelt there and begged, “Master… the Young Master is your own flesh and blood. He is still young; he won’t remember anything. I beg you, I beg you to keep him…”

Pei Ji hesitated for a moment, but not for long. A force, one that only a man in his prime could possess, shoved them over. Before falling off the carriage, Pei Xu heard only Pei Ji’s ruthless voice: “Keep him so he can grow up to avenge his mother?”

The winter snow was thick. Pei Xu was thrown into a snowbank. He struggled to climb out, wanting to run back to find his mother. Behind him came the nurse’s grief-stricken voice: “Young Master… Young Master, don’t go there. Young Master, don’t look, don’t look… my poor Young Master…”

He didn’t listen. He ran forward a few steps. He didn’t know why the wolf-like refugees had temporarily stopped here… what were they eating? A blurry, bloody mass.

Pei Xu’s mind already knew what it was, but for a moment, his body could not wake up from the nightmare of reality. He staggered forward a few steps, then knelt uncontrollably and vomited.

He heard someone in the crowd of refugees shout in surprise: “There’s another one over there! The little bastard of that bastard official!”

“Catch him and eat him too!”

Pei Xu had possessed extraordinary hearing since childhood. Besides the commotion of the refugees, he also heard the sound of many horses’ hooves thudding against the ground.

But hearing it was only hearing it; his brain had no room to process what it meant. All his senses were concentrated in his stomach, which was cramping and twisting as if his heart were melting along with it.

It started snowing again. The refugees crowded over, tearing at his body.

“Rongrong… Rongrong… wake up…”

It seemed like someone was calling him. How was that possible? Who would still care whether he lived or died?

Besides himself, who else wanted him to live?

“Rongrong… are you having a nightmare?”

His body hurt so much. His eyes were blurred with blood. The refugees were gone; the ones who came on horseback were the garrison troops transferred from the neighboring province.

So cold…

His body was lifted into the air, held by someone.

Who is it…

He was wrapped in a warm cloak, the whistling wind in his ears. The snow was still falling, melting on his face, and his vision gradually cleared.

The face of the thirteen-year-old youth and the face of the twenty-one-year-old young man before him gradually overlapped.

Pei Xu opened his eyes, but his dark pupils were wet, still vacant, and without focus.

Ji Yuanhui called out to him over and over without a moment’s pause. After a long while, his eyes finally moved. He trembled, grabbing several times before he finally hugged Ji Yuanhui back, and then began to cry in a hoarse voice.

“Your Highness…” He finally made a sound, terrified and desperate. He clung to Ji Yuanhui like a drowning man desperately clutching a piece of driftwood.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Ji Yuanhui felt a sharp pang of heartache. He gently patted his back. “You were caught in a nightmare again. What did you dream of that scared you so much…”

This was not the first time Pei Xu had suffered a nightmare.

Having slept alone for over twenty years, Ji Yuanhui had not been used to holding someone to sleep when they first married. However, after sharing a bed for a few days, Ji Yuanhui discovered that Pei Xu would often wake up startled in the middle of the night. Once he regained his senses, Pei Xu would silently lean into his embrace, seemingly able to sleep more soundly when pressed against him.

Pei Xu seemed very afraid of being alone; he liked keeping chirping birds to add a bit of liveliness. Whether it was sparrows or crows, as long as they could accompany him, it was fine.

Things he could use to curry favor by faking a few tears were all things Pei Xu didn’t truly care about. Regarding the things he was truly afraid of, he remained tight-lipped, never mentioning them.

Ji Yuanhui did not force him to speak. Everyone has old wounds they wish to keep hidden; there was no need to tear at someone’s bleeding scars just to satisfy one’s own curiosity.

Only, from a certain day onward, Ji Yuanhui began to hold Pei Xu while they slept, hoping it would help him sleep better.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid…” Ji Yuanhui whispered in his ear. “Don’t be afraid. Didn’t I give you a knife? Whatever makes you afraid, take that knife and kill it. Make your enemies afraid; don’t make yourself sad. When the things you fear disappear, you won’t have nightmares anymore.”

Pei Xu’s emotions gradually stabilized. He stopped crying, though his expression remained dazed. “I will… I will kill him…”

Ji Yuanhui met his eyes. Those eyes were like the surface of the sea at dusk, tossing up red waves—unspeakable emotions mingled within the waves, stacking and surging.

Regret, pain, helplessness…

Ji Yuanhui knew what he needed at this moment. He held him tightly, kissing him over and over, teaching him a new way of thinking at his most lost moment: “Don’t be sad, Rongrong. You did nothing wrong. It is they who are wrong. Kill whoever makes you sad. Making you sad is their fault, so they deserve to die.”

Pei Xu was somewhat dazed. “Is that so…?”

“Yes, that’s exactly how it is.” In the quiet of the deep night, Ji Yuanhui’s voice was exceptionally clear. In this small world, it was the only sound remaining. “You shouldn’t have had to suffer these hardships. Pick up the knife; you must pay them back. It’s okay to hate, but do not be afraid.”

Pei Xu was held very tightly. Ji Yuanhui’s hand remained on him, patting him rhythmically, like a form of encouragement. He stopped weeping, staring blankly at a certain spot, seemingly thinking about something slowly.

He seemed to have finally struggled out of the nightmare, his tone pained and furious: “On what basis does he enjoy high status and a large family while my mother’s remains are lost… He sleeps soundly atop my mother’s bones. He lives too well—so well that just thinking about it makes me unable to eat or sleep in peace…”

He discarded the gentle and submissive mask he wore during the day. Hatred and resentment were sparked by the night, magnified until they finally ignited into a wildfire.

“Yes… I should pick up the knife.” Pei Xu leaned into Ji Yuanhui’s embrace and closed his eyes. “This life is already rotten to this extent. How much worse could things get…”

Ji Yuanhui was about to agree with the first half of the sentence, but after hearing the second half, he realized Pei Xu seemed to have misunderstood—and misunderstood by more than a little.

I told you to take someone else’s life, I didn’t tell you to treat your own life as nothing.

“That’s not how it goes…” Ji Yuanhui wanted to correct him, but Pei Xu looked truly exhausted, not in a state where he could listen.

I’ll tell him another day… Let him rest well today.

Ji Yuanhui laid him down and tucked him in. “Sleep a bit longer. You’re too tired. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

As if to reassure him, Ji Yuanhui promised, “We stand together. Whatever you want to do, I will help you.”

Pei Xu gazed at him fixedly and said, “Okay,” with a hoarse voice.

[Your Highness is the best person in this world.]

[I will repay Your Highness.]

“Your throat is in this state; don’t speak anymore. Sleep.”

…

The next day, just as the sky was beginning to brighten, Ji Yuanhui got up. He had requested leave from his duties. He ordered the kitchen to stew some pear soup, then took a horse and went out.

As usual, he left the horse at the foot of the mountain. Ji Yuanhui climbed the mountain alone to find the old Taoist. The Taoist wasn’t on the mountain every time; he pushed open the door to the room where the Taoist usually stayed with the thought of testing his luck.

His luck was good today. Upon entering, he saw the Taoist with disheveled hair slumped over the table, seemingly fast asleep.

Ji Yuanhui closed the door and sat at the table. Just as he was about to shake the man awake, his movements suddenly froze.

His gaze fell upon the Taoist’s hair. Among those silver strands—originally pure white like an immortal’s without a single speck of color—there now appeared several strands of ink-black hair. They were as jarring as ink dropped onto snow.

Ji Yuanhui was still in a daze when the person who usually required half a day of shaking to show any reaction actually woke up on his own today. Those eyes suddenly snapped open. When he wore no expression, he had a very cold and oppressive face. But as soon as he spoke, that illusion vanished instantly.

He said, “Great-great-grandson, what are you looking at?”