The Vicious Woman and the White Moonlight are both me - Chapter 31

Song Zhaoyan did not believe that His Majesty was unaware of the rumors circulating within the palace—rumors such as there being something wrong with the child in the Crown Princess’s womb. If there truly were a problem, that would amount to deceiving the Emperor, a golden opportunity for punishment.

By now, Song Zhaoyan had gained a fair understanding of the Great Qi Dynasty.

The original Song Zhaoyan’s father had been young and valiant, unmatched on the battlefield, yet he died after falling into an enemy ambush, perishing in war.

After his death, the Great Qi Dynasty was left with few generals capable of standing against the enemy.

Fortunately, the Empress’s maternal clan later rose to prominence, fighting fiercely against the enemy forces and becoming the new War Gods of Great Qi.

Because of this, even though His Majesty disliked the Empress and the Crown Prince, he had never deposed her.

The Crown Prince had also married Zhao Anxian, the daughter of Grand Chancellor Zhao, the foremost official among the civil court.

If the Emperor truly intended to pass the throne to the Crown Prince, this marriage would have been a clear move to pave the way for his succession.

But that was not the case.

He feared the Empress’s maternal clan, yet at the same time needed to rely on the Xia family’s military strength. Even if he saw them through their intentions, he could not refuse them outright.

With such forces merging, how could the Emperor possibly feel at ease?

Thus, Song Zhaoyan suspected that the Emperor had endured for so long precisely because the Moon Worship incident had finally presented him with an opportunity.

If he truly valued the Crown Princess’s pregnancy, then even at three months, with the pregnancy stable, he would never have allowed her to attend. Yet in the end, it was he himself who spoke, leaving the Crown Princess with no choice but to go.

If she were truly pregnant, then a miscarriage would occur.

If she were falsely pregnant, then this would become the perfect opportunity to call her to account.

So, at the time…

Song Zhaoyan forced herself to recall the scene in detail. Consort Chen had been tugging at her with both hands, Zhan Xinyue was supporting her, and Pei Yayun, under the pretense of helping Consort Chen, had tried to push the Crown Princess—but because of the distance, it was simply impossible for her to reach her.

Which meant the one who actually made the move could only have been one of the attendant palace maids.

It was just that, in the chaos of everyone pulling at one another—and with ill intent already in their hearts—none of them bothered to think carefully about who had truly pushed her. Whoever it was, they were determined to pin it on Song Zhaoyan anyway.

So, no one stopped considering who had really done it.

Whether that maid appeared, on the surface, to belong to Pei Yayun or to the Crown Princess, in truth she must have been acting under the Emperor’s orders.

When this thought surfaced, Song Zhaoyan felt a chill race through her body, a layer of cold sweat breaking out all at once.

If her guess was correct, then this emperor was truly unfathomably calculating.

Then how much of the so-called loving father image he showed her could really be trusted?

Stepping outside the original host’s perspective, Song Zhaoyan finally began to feel genuine suspicion.

By the time she finished piecing everything together, the possibility seemed overwhelmingly likely.

He had orchestrated the Crown Princess’s fall into the water, then summoned the imperial physicians for a joint diagnosis. Even if some of them had been bought off by the Empress, at a moment like that, they would never dare to lie.

So when, in the Eastern Palace, the physicians announced that the Crown Princess showed no sign of pregnancy—only a false pulse induced by medication—the Emperor had not flown into a rage.

Because he had already known all along that the Crown Princess’s pregnancy was fake.

By exposing her false pregnancy in front of so many people, the Emperor could simultaneously call the Empress’s maternal Xia clan and the Crown Princess’s maternal Zhao clan to account. And once those officials were suppressed, he would inevitably have to elevate others in their place.

Zhan Xinyue’s name immediately leapt into Song Zhaoyan’s mind.

From the plot—and from her half god’s-eye view—Song Zhaoyan knew that since Zhan Xinyue was the female lead, her family was bound to rise. That was why, in the future, Pei Chengyun would want to draw the Zhan family to his side, and why, in the process of using her, he would end up falling for Zhan Xinyue.

From the Emperor’s perspective, if there were other generals capable of fighting the enemy, then naturally the Xia clan could not be allowed to dominate alone.

He wanted to elevate the Zhan family—but even so, he still punished Zhan Xinyue today.

As Song Zhaoyan thought more deeply about it, perhaps this was precisely the art of Emperors.

Zhan Xinyue had clearly saved the Crown Princess, yet the Crown Princess still died. Once the news spread to the court, it would certainly be embellished beyond recognition.

By then, the Zhao family might very well believe that the Crown Princess’s death had been caused by Zhan Xinyue.

But because the Emperor valued the Zhan family and favored them because of Princess Zhaohua’s involvement, he had deliberately handed down nothing more than a light punishment of ten strokes.

At that point, the Zhao family’s resentment would be directed far more toward the Zhan family—and toward the notoriously arrogant Princess Zhaohua—while the Emperor himself would slip away cleanly, perfectly hidden.

At this realization, Song Zhaoyan could not help but sit bolt upright. Her breathing tightened, her whole body trembling uncontrollably, her hands clutching the blanket beneath her with all their strength.

She wanted to stop thinking about it.

But the more she tried, the more her thoughts spiraled, impossible to rein in.

So, this was why her adoptive father had chosen Zhan Xinyue as her study companion—was this his intention all along?

All the need to promote the Zhan family, to protect the Zhan family, could be placed squarely on Zhan Xinyue, this single study companion. Because she was the companion of the Emperor’s most beloved daughter. Because it was Princess Zhaohua who had “spoken on their behalf.” Because of that, the Emperor would be pleased, and the Zhan family would rise ever more prominently.

And today, that decision had indeed played a decisive role.

Especially tonight, the death of the Crown Princess had finally cemented the enmity between the Zhao and Zhan families.

But how had she really died?

Song Zhaoyan sank to her knees, hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees, lost in thought.

At that moment, all the imperial physicians had come out, and it was the Empress who had instructed the Crown Prince to go see her.

So—could it have been the Crown Prince who killed her?

The Crown Princess’s false pregnancy had been exposed, giving the Emperor the opportunity to punish both the Xia and Zhao families. If the Crown Princess were dead, the truth of the pregnancy could never be verified, and no autopsy could be performed. In that case, the Xia family could manipulate the situation, shifting blame onto the Zhan family.

Rather than risk both families being punished over a false pregnancy, it was far more advantageous for her to die.

Song Zhaoyan wasn’t sure if her speculation was correct, but the more she replayed the events, the more plausible it seemed.

After all, at that time, only the Crown Prince and the Crown Princess had been in the inner chamber.

The Emperor had ordered someone to push the Crown Princess into the water—but he had no intention of taking her life yet. He only wanted her alive so that the physicians could check her pulse.

To maximize his advantage, he could have taken her life. Once dead, her pulse couldn’t be examined, and the matter would have ended there.

Although the Emperor had contemplated deposing the Empress and the Crown Prince, he could not allow the Crown Prince to bear the stigma of murdering his wife—it would have undermined the prestige of the throne.

So, the Emperor said nothing, effectively accepting the Crown Prince’s explanation: the Crown Princess had been frightened by the fall into the water, suffered a miscarriage, lost too much bl00d, and died.

The Crown Prince, wanting to protect himself, had no intention of harming his wife. Zhao Anxian had agreed to pretend she was pregnant, thinking that the Crown Prince and the Empress had everything planned—but she never expected the outcome to be so tragic.

At that thought, Song Zhaoyan felt the palace itself to be unbearably terrifying. At this moment, there was not a trace of joy in her as a princess.

She now understood that even the Emperor’s favor toward her must carry some hidden purpose—but what that purpose was, she had no idea.

All she wished for now was to complete her mission quickly, to “die” in that great fire, and escape this dreadful place, to become herself again.

The night was deep, yet Song Zhaoyan still could not sleep. In Longju Palace, the Emperor was no different. He leaned against his headboard, eyes closed, resting, when Lord Kang quietly entered. In a low voice, he reported, “Your Majesty, Wenxiu, the palace maid attending the Crown Princess, upon hearing of her death, has thrown herself into a well to follow her mistress in death.”

The Emperor did not open his eyes. He only gave a faint, “Hm.”

“Give her a proper burial.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The brief exchange marked the definitive close of the night’s events.

Song Zhaoyan thought that excessive worry and overthinking could truly make a person sick. She noticed it clearly the following day.

Fortunately, with her confinement, she could go nowhere, and in a way, it allowed her to recover.

When Aunt Tao came in bearing news of the palace maid’s death alongside the Crown Princess, Song Zhaoyan’s mind was made even clearer: everything she had speculated last night had been correct.

“I understand. You may leave.”

After exchanging the medicine with the system, Song Zhaoyan felt her body a little less fatigued, but her spirit was still heavy.

Without any makeup, her long hair loose, she leaned lazily against the low windowsill, one hand propping up her head, her gaze drifting blankly over the scenery outside.

When Pei Shen arrived, this was the sight that met him—Song Zhaoyan in a rare moment of quiet calmness, a side of her he had never seen before. For a moment, he was completely distracted.

It wasn’t until Xuezhi greeted him that he snapped back, bowing respectfully toward Song Zhaoyan.

“Princess Zhaohua, greetings!”

Song Zhaoyan turned her head, her reaction calm and measured. She glanced at him briefly, then turned her attention back to the window.

“I don’t feel like practicing archery or horseback riding these past few days. You go by yourself.”

Pei Shen had never seen her like this, and for a moment, he found himself a little unsettled. He couldn’t help but look at her a few more times, while Song Zhaoyan, lost in her own world, didn’t even notice him.

He didn’t understand what act she was putting on this time, but since she wasn’t tormenting him, he supposed he should be grateful.

After leaving, Pei Shen went to find the instructor to practice riding and archery.

All through today’s training, he felt unusually light and relaxed, yet he couldn’t deny that during the breaks, his mind kept drifting back to the image of Song Zhaoyan that morning.

That cold, distant look, the subtle hint of melancholy lingering between her brows—it stirred a quiet worry in him.

Was this the real Song Zhaoyan?

He asked himself, almost in disbelief. Had some wild spirit possessed her? How could she possibly wear such an expression?

Pei Shen shook his head violently, trying to cast aside all those thoughts. He tried, desperately, to ignore Song Zhaoyan.

Clearly worried about and caring for Miss Zhan, yet today he found himself thinking only of Song Zhaoyan.

Could it be… that he was truly infatuated? That he felt uneasy whenever Song Zhaoyan didn’t torment him?

Of course, Pei Shen wouldn’t admit it outright. Instead, he gave himself a convenient excuse: he was concerned about Song Zhaoyan’s moods because if she were unhappy, she might take it out on him—or worse on Zhan Xinyue. Yes, that must be it!

With this justification, the image of Song Zhaoyan as malicious and dangerous was firmly cemented in his mind, and he forced himself not to think too much about her.

Still, he continued his daily visits to inquire after her well-being—if he didn’t, she might accuse him of neglect and start tormenting him again.

But for several days, Song Zhaoyan looked weak and sickly, as if truly ill, which only kept Pei Shen lingering longer in the main hall.

He kept telling himself that he genuinely cared for Song Zhaoyan, and it was solely because he feared she might think him neglectful that he persisted.

And her unusual demeanor, he concluded, was simply the result of being unhappy about her confinement. That had to be it.

This was the first time since coming to this world that Song Zhaoyan’s spirits had sunk so low.

Though she was a princess of noble bl00d, it seemed that even the Emperor Father who raised her treated her with scheming calculation. The palace’s dangers and intrigues naturally filled her with fear.

Combined with her longing for home, all these emotions had built up over the past few days, driving her fear and retreat to a peak.

Her physical ailments could be aided by the system, but her heart—the system could do nothing.

The system had told her only that completing her mission was enough; it had never said she could go home.

Song Zhaoyan felt as if she were on the verge of madness. Alone, she even cried silently several times.

Pei Shen had noticed. Seeing her huddled by the window, shedding quiet tears, he felt as if those seemingly insignificant drops had struck him like a hammer, pounding deep into his heart.

He didn’t understand why he felt this way. He should despise Song Zhaoyan, and should feel relief at her suffering. Yet seeing her like this made him feel ache.

Why? Why did he feel this way?