The Vicious Woman and the White Moonlight are both me - Chapter 14

Song Zhaoyan lifted her eyes to Pei Shen, inwardly marveling. No wonder he was the male lead—so young, yet already so calculating. Truly worthy of being a future emperor. 

Although he still had moments of impulsiveness and irritability, even thoughts of ending it all, his rational mind quickly returned, letting him strategize a way out. 

He didn’t want to get too close to Song Zhaoyan, so he used Pei Chengyun as a pretext to maneuver indirectly toward his goal. 

She felt this inwardly, yet her expression remained one of disdain as she appraised him from head to toe. “You? You think you can compare to Fifth Brother?” 

Pei Shen remained respectful. “In my view, Fifth Brother’s attention toward the Princess is not entirely unintentional. Today, he genuinely instructed me to avoid you—it seems he doesn’t wish for other men to be close to you. Yet because of your past behavior, he dared not approach you himself.” 

“Impudent! Pei Shen, it’s only been a few days, and your audacity grows—you dare criticize me?” 

Pei Shen remained calm and composed. “If the Princess doesn’t wish to hear it, then I shall remain silent.” 

As expected, after Pei Shen fell silent, Song Zhaoyan’s anger cooled. She regarded him for a moment, cleared her throat, and said, “Although you have shown great disrespect toward me, both you and Fifth Brother are men. At this moment, you can still speak with both me and him… What you said… Is it truly so?” 

Seeing Song Zhaoyan for once drop her usual arrogance, Pei Shen felt a sudden thrill of satisfaction. 

“I can’t be certain, but if the Princess truly favors Fifth Brother, then naturally you shouldn’t get too close to other men so as not to cause misunderstandings.” 

“Like you?” Song Zhaoyan sneered. “Such scheming… Don’t want to be my servant? If I believed that, you’d have your wish. Fine—” 

She raised her hand, and Xuezhi quickly helped Pei Shen to his feet. “From now on, you don’t have to stay here for night duty anymore, but you remain my servant. You’ll live at Qiuqian Residence and be ready to obey my orders at any time!” 

Hearing this, Pei Shen’s eyes briefly flashed with disappointment, but then he thought better of it. Being away from Song Zhaoyan wasn’t so bad! 

After all, last night’s night duty hadn’t been intentionally torturous—but who could guarantee every night would be so? Without proper rest, how could he study during the day? 

“Thank you, Your Highness!” 

______________________ 

From that day on, Pei Shen stayed at Qiuqian Residence, after serving a night in the main hall of Chaoyang Palace. Even though it was midsummer and Song Zhaoyan wouldn’t provide ice or mosquito repellents, Pei Shen had long been accustomed to such discomfort. Compared to her whims, he could handle a few mosquitoes. 

After dinner, Song Zhaoyan once again buried herself in her books. Since she wasn’t sleeping, Pei Shen naturally couldn’t leave; he had to serve tea and pour water. 

It was then that Pei Shen realized the reason Song Zhaoyan had visited the Grand Tutor that afternoon: she had come for these books. 

Pei Shen glanced over the titles of the books and noticed that many of them were accessible to the other princes and princesses—but not to him. Some he didn’t even have the “qualifications” to read. 

A pang of regret struck him. If he continued serving night duty for Song Zhaoyan, perhaps he could sneak a peek at these books under the cover of darkness. 

He wanted to speak up, to subtly request access, but he knew better. If he opened his mouth, Song Zhaoyan wouldn’t grant him the books—she might even humiliate him again. And knowing her, she wouldn’t hesitate to destroy the books right in front of him, leaving him not a single glance. 

That was just how cruel she could be: she delighted in destroying what others treasured, especially when they were watching. 

Suppressing his words, Pei Shen held his tongue. After all, now that he lived in Chaoyang Palace, he would have opportunities to sneak a look eventually. 

Meanwhile, Song Zhaoyan flipped through one book after another, clearly frustrated and unable to comprehend them. Pei Shen stayed silent, but finally she spoke. 

“Ugh! So annoying! So annoying! So annoying! What is even written in these books? Complicated and convoluted!” 

With that, she tossed a book aside, let out a long yawn, and then, her eyes lighting up with mischief, she turned her gaze toward Pei Shen, clearly hatching some new scheme. 

Seeing that look in her eyes, Pei Shen immediately felt a pang of guilt and quickly looked away. 

“I’m tired. You’ll read these books for me, but once you’ve read them, you must explain their meaning to me—clearly and simply. If you dare to fudge anything, I won’t forgive you!” 

With that sharp warning, Song Zhaoyan got up and walked to her bed, leaving Pei Shen still reeling from this unexpected stroke of luck. 

Just moments ago, he had been scheming to sneak a peek at the books, and now fortune had truly smiled upon him. His face betrayed a hint of surprise, though he pressed his lips tightly to keep his joy from showing too obviously. 

He understood why this had happened: earlier that day, Pei Chengyun had said he admired women who were well-read and talented, which had prompted Song Zhaoyan to study so diligently. 

Of course, Song Zhaoyan’s diligence was half-hearted—if she had truly been industrious and not indulgent, she wouldn’t be so imperious and unruly. But her desire to impress Pei Chengyun meant she wanted the benefits of learning without actually doing the work herself—and that, of course, delighted Pei Shen immensely. 

He clutched the books eagerly and, without lifting his head, said, “The meaning in these books is bitter and difficult. Without the instructors’ explanations, I’d need a long time to study. Keeping a candle lit might disturb the princess’s rest.” 

“That’s fine. Take the books and the candle and return to your quarters in Qiuqian Residence,” Song Zhaoyan snapped, annoyed. She also instructed Xuezhi to dim the candlelight so it wouldn’t glare. 

Obediently, Xuezhi reduced the flame, leaving only a small candle to light the way. Pei Shen finally allowed himself a quiet smile as he carried the books and candle out. 

Lying on her bed, Song Zhaoyan could relax as well. The system hadn’t punished her, which meant her actions hadn’t violated her character profile. In fact, as a scheming female lead trying to cater to the male lead’s interests, she had accidentally created an opportunity for him to improve himself. 

After all, if Song Zhaoyan truly didn’t understand something, she could have asked the instructor herself. The fact that she tasked Pei Shen instead suggested she still wanted to challenge him—though in the end, it worked out in his favor. 

How much Pei Shen would actually learn was up to him. If he encountered concepts he didn’t grasp, a clever move would be to ask Song Zhaoyan for help; she would humbly consult the instructors, giving Pei Shen another chance to study under them. From Pei Chengyun’s perspective, Song Zhaoyan’s diligence would appear impressive, and Pei Shen could quietly benefit. 

While Song Zhaoyan slept early, Pei Shen stayed up late in Qiuqian Residence, poring over the books. He even resisted sleep, meticulously taking notes and jotting down everything he didn’t understand on blank sheets, determined to absorb every detail. 

By the time midnight rolled around, Pei Shen couldn’t help but yawn several times. Reluctantly, he set down his books and pen and climbed into bed. 

For several days in a row, Princess Zhaohua didn’t make trouble for any of the other princes or princesses. Word of the Ninth Prince staying in Chaoyang Palace naturally spread. 

Though no one saw any visible injuries on Pei Shen or noticed any discomfort as he walked, the dark circles under his eyes told a story. Everyone guessed he must still be enduring Princess Song Zhaoyan’s torment; otherwise, he wouldn’t look so worn and disheveled. 

Yet, no one truly felt sympathy for him. On the contrary, some felt a quiet sense of schadenfreude—after all, having Pei Shen as a venting target meant Song Zhaoyan no longer bothered them. 

That she had shifted her attention and temperament didn’t surprise anyone. After all, she was approaching the age of marriage, and her affection for the Fifth Prince, Pei Chengyun, was well known. 

Why the change in behavior? Naturally, it was to win Pei Chengyun’s favor. 

Given the emperor’s deep fondness for Song Zhaoyan, even if Pei Chengyun didn’t favor her, she only needed to appeal to the emperor, and he would surely approve. 

The other princes quietly scoffed at the thought of Pei Chengyun marrying such a troublesome girl. But then they reconsidered—if he truly did marry Song Zhaoyan, the emperor would treat him with even greater favor, extending his protection and high regard. 

He wanted to give Song Zhaoyan the best—after all, even as a future princess consort, her status would still be constrained by the emperor and empress. Wouldn’t it be better if she were empress herself? 

If Song Zhaoyan became empress, then the one marrying her would be the emperor. 

The very thought sent shivers down the other princes’ spines. 

It was no wonder some of them nursed ambitions for the throne. The crown prince was unfit—both morally flawed and physically impaired—and his only child was a daughter granted the title of Commandery Princess. The empress could bear no more imperial sons. The crown prince, frustrated and forbidden from speaking of his disability, could do nothing; everyone already knew of his condition. 

The crown prince’s position was inevitably doomed—it was only a matter of time. 

Once the crown prince’s seat became vacant, every prince would have a chance to ascend. 

But the key obstacle was Pei Chengyun marrying the emperor’s most favored Song Zhaoyan. 

The best solution was either to secure Pei Chengyun’s engagement early or to have Song Zhaoyan’s affections shift elsewhere. 

Thus, one of the concubines suggested to the empress that, with the upcoming Qixi Festival, they should hold a “Begging for Skills” banquet and invite court officials’ wives and daughters of prominent families along with young men and women of status. 

The proposal was reasonable, leaving the empress no grounds to refuse. After consulting with the emperor, preparations for the banquet began. 

Among the princesses’ companions, many noble girls admired Pei Chengyun, while among the princes’ companions, no one dared to fancy Song Zhaoyan. 

So the idea of making Song Zhaoyan fall for someone else wouldn’t work—no one dared attempt it. 

But helping some girl who secretly adored Pei Chengyun achieve her wish? That was something everyone could happily support. 

Meanwhile, thanks to the system’s unlocked plot, Song Zhaoyan already knew what was about to happen. 

She lay on her side, propping her head up with one hand while absentmindedly gnawing on an apple with the other, utterly unconcerned about appearances, but inwardly she couldn’t help but vent. 

Who said men didn’t understand these twisting, convoluted matters? Look at how far they’d go to achieve their goals—thinking themselves righteous, united against injustice—yet in reality, they schemed, manipulating innocent young girls’ first stirrings of affection, compromising their purity. 

Even if these girls were naïve—charmed by Pei Chengyun’s prestige, enamored by his handsome features, or drawn in by the persona he carefully maintained—it didn’t give other princes the right to exploit them, all under the guise of “helping them achieve their heart’s desire.” 

In any era, a woman who sacrificed her reputation for marriage would be scorned. 

Bastards! Simply beasts! 

Song Zhaoyan bit off the last piece of the apple with force, tossed the core into the trash, patted her hands clean, and sat up, exhaling sharply. 

After all, she was a villainess—used to bullying the weak and running roughshod over others. One more scheme, one more over-the-top move, wouldn’t make a difference; the more extreme her actions, the more they fit her persona. Everyone would see it as normal, and she’d gain even more points. 

So she had to plan carefully, come up with a clever idea, and let those people reap the consequences of their own actions. 

At the thought, Song Zhaoyan couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation! 

For the first time, doing something wicked felt so exhilarating! She absolutely loved this persona, this identity—it suited her perfectly!