The Vicious Woman and the White Moonlight are both me - Chapter 33

The funeral of the Crown Princess was over, and the Crown Prince remained quiet for some time, seemingly sunk in sorrow over the loss of his wife. His spirits only seemed to revive with the approach of the late September autumn hunt.

This year, neither princes nor princesses would participate. Song Zhaoyan, unwilling to give up, tried coaxing and pleading several times, but each attempt failed, and she finally gave in.

Shifting her focus, she turned to Pei Shen, determined to let him step into the spotlight.

“Now everyone in the palace knows you’re staying at my Chaoyang Palace. Your sister here is taking care of you, so you better train well. Don’t embarrass me in the hunting grounds by being useless!”

Song Zhaoyan lounged lazily in a grand chair, while Xuezhi stood beside her, gently fanning her with an exquisite round fan.

Before the hunt officially began, Pei Shen was put through another rigorous round of training under Song Zhaoyan’s watchful—and merciless—eye.

But, true to form, the male lead proved himself. Despite the short practice period, his skills were already refined. Coupled with his internal cultivation, he moved with remarkable agility and strength. He wasn’t yet as light and graceful as a swallow, but his movements were quick, precise, and formidable.

Finally, the day of the hunt arrived. The grand procession set out from the palace, heading toward the imperial hunting grounds at Chiyang Mountain.

A royal hunt demanded no small spectacle. The entire mountain had been sealed off for a month in advance to ensure the Emperor’s journey remained undisturbed.

Song Zhaoyan, of course, brought along both Zhan Xinyue and Pei Shen. She traveled in her own carriage, while Zhan Xinyue and Pei Shen rode horses behind her.

Upon arriving at the hunting grounds, Song Zhaoyan immediately displayed her usual temper, complaining incessantly about the long journey and claiming the carriage ride had left her back and waist sore. She even ordered Xuezhi to prepare water for bathing.

After such a long trip, everyone would rest well tonight, for the formal hunt would begin the next day.

Although the Emperor had provided Song Zhaoyan with riding gear, a bow, and even a horse, he had no intention of letting her actually hunt—it was merely for show, a bit of fun.

The next morning, everyone rose early and prepared for the hunt.

The Emperor himself was clad in a dark riding outfit embroidered with gold, mounted atop his imperial steed. His eyes blazed as he scanned the endless forests ahead. He drew an arrow, aimed at the distance, and released a golden arrow.

“Today, I shall compete with all my ministers! Whoever hunts the most shall take first place! A generous reward awaits the victor!”

At his words, the courtiers’ faces lit up with eager anticipation. Cheers erupted all around: “Thank you, Your Majesty!”
Pei Shen, however, remained stone-faced and serious.

He knew his days of practicing horseback archery were far too few; winning first place was impossible. Yet a spark of hope flickered within him.

If… if he could somehow take first place, what reward would the Emperor grant him?

The desire that burned most in his heart was simple yet impossible: to free his mother, Zhang Cai, from the palace confines, to spare her suffering.

But such a request… surely it would provoke the Emperor’s anger.

His breaths came heavier, loaded with tension.

The solemn sound of the hunting horn rang out—officially beginning the hunt.

The Emperor glanced toward Song Zhaoyan and said, “Man’er, just ride your little pony around here and play. Do not enter the forest, understand?”

Dressed in her red riding outfit, Song Zhaoyan was still buzzing with excitement. When she heard the emperor’s warning, she immediately adopted a mock pout, frowning up at him.

“Father, you’re showing favoritism! If you let me come, then of course I’ll hunt too. Or… are you afraid of losing to me?”

Instead of angering the Emperor, her bold words made him laugh heartily. A few senior ministers around them chuckled as well.

“Well said! Man’er has spirit! But remember, this isn’t a place to play—arrows fly without warning, and it would be disastrous if anyone got hurt. So don’t misbehave! I’ll let you have a fox to hunt, just for you.”

With that, the emperor spurred his horse forward, charging straight into the hunting grounds. Crown Prince Pei Chenghao cast a cold glance at Song Zhaoyan before following closely, with the Second Prince and other royal family members and ministers trailing behind.

Once the main party had departed, Pei Shen finally approached his horse. Being close to Princess Zhaohua didn’t mean he could ride alongside the Emperor.

Seeing Pei Shen moving so slowly, Song Zhaoyan’s impatience flared. She dashed toward her horse, ready to chase after the group.

Xue Zhi frowned, concerned: “Princess, perhaps you shouldn’t go. You’ve never hunted before—please be careful.”

Though her expression radiated annoyance, Song Zhaoyan did not insist blindly.

“I know, no need to meddle!”

Relieved that the princess had listened, Xue Zhi relaxed slightly.

With the main party gone, Song Zhaoyan looked down at Pei Shen with a sharp, commanding gaze.

“You’ve been training with me in horseback archery for some time. Today is your chance to show your skill. You don’t need to follow me—go hunt! But remember, if you embarrass me, I’ll make sure you regret it!”

Her tone was as arrogant and imperious as ever. Pei Shen remained silent for a long moment, then finally gave a quiet assent before swinging himself onto his horse and riding off.

Watching him leave, Song Zhaoyan shifted her gaze toward Zhan Xinyue next.

“Knowing you’re the daughter of a general, I imagine being stuck in Chaoyang Palace as my companion-reader must have been suffocating. Today, I’ll let you enjoy yourself—go ahead!”

Zhan Xinyue stared at Song Zhaoyan in surprise. Her usually quiet expression revealed nothing, leaving Song Zhaoyan’s thoughts unreadable.

“But Princess…”

“What? Could it be that the legendary heroine is a lie? That the tales of leading troops for Great Qi and battling the Western barbarians were just exaggerations concocted by General Zhan?”

Song Zhaoyan’s words were always startling, always cutting. The term “exaggeration”? That alone left Zhan Xinyue uneasy. She simply could not read the princess.

At times, Song Zhaoyan seemed exactly as she appeared: arrogant, reckless, perhaps foolish, but blessed with imperial favor.

Other times, she seemed cunning and calculating, a solitary figure forced to conceal her thoughts in the unpredictable depths of the palace, treading carefully as if on thin ice.

Zhan Xinyue could not understand her. I could not predict her.

“Princess… I am… terrified,” she admitted, bowing her head slightly.

Song Zhaoyan waved her hand dismissively, her tone teasing yet commanding: “Terrified? Nonsense. Show me your skill! What’s the matter? Do you want me to beg you?”

Finally, Zhan Xinyue could no longer refuse. She nodded firmly.

“I dare not refuse. Since the Princess requests it, I will not decline.”

With that, she rose gracefully, mounting her horse with a lithe, commanding motion. She saluted Song Zhaoyan with a respectful fist before spurring her horse forward and riding off.

Song Zhaoyan watched Zhan Xinyue’s figure disappear into the distance, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.

Not bad, not bad—today’s mission accomplished: nudging the main pair closer together!

Her words about hunting were just that—words. She was merely enjoying the thrill of her persona in the palace, indulging in a bit of playful authority.

Now that they were truly at the hunting grounds, she remained cautious. Arrows had no eyes, after all, and enemies of “her” were plentiful. If someone wanted to seize the moment to harm her, they would have the perfect opportunity—she could not afford to be careless.

After all, her original reason for being in this world, inhabiting Princess Zhaohua’s body, had begun with a drowning incident. And the system had claimed it couldn’t trace the culprit who had pushed her.

The system was unreliable; she had to stay alert to protect herself. So naturally, Song Zhaoyan wouldn’t place herself in danger.

Instead, she lounged on the imperial couch, nibbling fruit while enjoying Xuezhi’s shoulder massage—a rare, comfortable moment.

During the hunt, it was impossible to tell whose arrow struck which prey. To distinguish the hunters, the Emperor and princes used arrows marked with colored fletching, while other royals and officials had numbers or special marks engraved on theirs.

Song Zhaoyan wondered how many animals Pei Shen had managed to hunt and if Zhan Xinyue would help him keep count.

Lost in thought, Aunt Tao’s gaze swept the distant horizon. “I wonder who will claim the top prize this year. His Majesty hasn’t said what the reward will be, but I imagine he won’t be stingy—after all, a royal decree is a promise!”

Song Zhaoyan remained unmoved, showing no interest in Aunt Tao’s words.

“Last year, it was Fifth Prince who won; this year he isn’t participating—who will gain the Emperor’s favor?”

Her words were casual, but for a listener like Song Zhaoyan, they carried a certain… intention.

After all, a certain keyword had been triggered.

The Fifth Prince!

Song Zhaoyan suddenly sat up, her expression serious as she looked at Aunt Tao. “Exactly! Father just said that whoever takes first place will receive a generous reward!”

Xuezhi’s face showed a flicker of confusion—she hadn’t quite understood why Song Zhaoyan had suddenly brightened.

“So… that means as long as the request isn’t too much, Father will grant it?”

Though slow to catch on, Xuezhi gradually pieced things together from Song Zhaoyan’s excitement and Aunt Tao’s words.

She spoke carefully, testing the waters, “Princess… you wouldn’t be planning to win first place, then ask His Majesty to lift the Fifth Prince’s confinement, would you?”

For once, Song Zhaoyan replied in a tone tinged with annoyance, “He’s been locked up this long. Waiting a few more days won’t make a difference.”

“And… your plan, then?” Xuezhi’s face carried a trace of worry.

It was obvious to anyone—the Fifth Prince didn’t care for Princess Zhaohua. And yet, she seemed completely smitten with him, as if she were bewitched.

In the past, Xuezhi would have tried to advise her. After all, since the Princess Zhaohua never received a proper response from the Fifth Prince, she would vent her frustration on the palace staff. Xuezhi didn’t want to be scolded, so she’d gently remind the Princess Zhaohua.

Now, however, Xuezhi could see that this version of the princess was different—less impulsive, less bloodthirsty, no longer punishing indiscriminately. The Chaoyang Palace had been free of violence for some time.

Still, Xuezhi genuinely worried for the princess, wanting to warn her: see the truth about the Fifth Prince—he doesn’t like you. Don’t get lost in this obsession.

But Xuezhi didn’t dare speak outright, especially as she heard Song Zhaoyan say, “What else could it be? Of course…”

At that moment, a blush spread across Song Zhaoyan’s cheeks. She lowered her head, pressing her lips together, as if lost in some delightful thought.

Seeing this, Xuezhi’s worry deepened even further.

“Now! Go prepare my horse immedietely—I’m going hunting too!”

With that, Song Zhaoyan sprang to her feet.

Already dressed in her riding gear, she was now rushing off to hunt. Xuezhi was taken aback—without Pei Shen and Zhan Xinyue present, who could stop the princess from venturing alone? If something happened, all the palace staff would bear the consequences!

Xuezhi hurried forward, gripping the reins. “Princess, please reconsider! The forest is dangerous. You mustn’t take such a risk. Why not wait a little, until the Ninth Prince or Miss Zhan returns, and then go together?”

But Song Zhaoyan had already lost patience. “Wait for them? How could I ever hope to surpass their number of prey, to claim first place, if I wait? Step aside, or don’t blame me if my whip shows no mercy!”

She brandished the whip in her hand, making Xuezhi instinctively shrink her shoulders.

Aunt Tao spoke up as well, though her tone was lighter than Xuezhi’s deep concern. “Then perhaps, Princess, you could take a small escort?”

“Ridiculous! Bringing so many people would just scare all my prey away. Move aside! Don’t waste my time, or you’ll regret it!”

With that, Song Zhaoyan stormed toward the stables, full of excitement and determination, completely in her element.

With that, Song Zhaoyan swung herself into the saddle and kicked the horse sharply. Xuezhi was so startled that she stumbled backward, nearly losing her footing, but fortunately Aunt Tao caught her in time.

“All right, there’s no need to worry. I know exactly what I’m doing!”

Without another word, Song Zhaoyan cracked her whip and spurred the horse forward, disappearing into the distance without looking back.