The Vicious Woman and the White Moonlight are both me - Chapter 34

Song Zhaoyan valued her life far too much. Even for the sake of maintaining her persona, she would never heed Aunt Tao’s words and place herself in real danger.

There was truly no other choice—the system was utterly inhuman, forcing her to maintain her character and push the plot forward.

Still, Song Zhaoyan wasn’t afraid. Her points are more than sufficient now. If real danger arose, she believed she could deal with it.

The royal hunting grounds were astonishingly vast. Even though so many people had entered earlier, not a single figure was visible now.

Song Zhaoyan urged her horse forward at speed into the forest. After riding for a while, she gradually slowed to a stop.

Although Pei Shen and Zhan Xinyue had left last, they had still been gone for some time. With the hunting grounds so enormous, how was she supposed to find them?

She was just about to ask the system to point her in the right direction, but the words reached her lips and she fell silent.

Her purpose in entering the hunting grounds wasn’t truly to hunt—only to maintain her persona. So why look for Pei Shen and Zhan Xinyue? To interrupt the male and female leads while they were building their relationship?

Forget it. She might as well just ride around aimlessly.

She slowed her pace, though she didn’t dare wander too far.

Even though she had transmigrated into a pampered, noble princess, that didn’t mean her daily life was one of complete freedom.

At this moment, riding through the forest, listening to crisp birdsong, and breathing in the fresh air, Song Zhaoyan closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, taking a deep breath. Only then did she feel that this was the most comfortable, carefree moment she had experienced since transmigrating.

Within a hunting ground like this, to capture one’s desired prey always required holding one’s breath, remaining cautious and alert—above all, patience, to avoid startling the target.

The sharp, chilling sound naturally caught Song Zhaoyan’s attention. She turned her head and looked at the arrows on the ground. Before her mind could even process what had happened, a hurried voice rang out from behind her.

“Run! Now!

Song Zhaoyan instinctively looked back and saw Pei Shen—who had long since vanished—standing behind her. It was obvious that the second arrow had been shot by him.

Pei Shen’s voice was loud, and the sudden commotion startled Song Zhaoyan’s horse as well. The horse stamped and shifted restlessly beneath her.

The hidden attacker, seeing the first strike fail, quickly nocked another arrow and drew the bow again.

In the next instant, another cold arrow shot out from the same direction, still aimed straight at Song Zhaoyan’s chest. This time, however, the horse shifted its position, and Song Zhaoyan narrowly avoided disaster once more. The arrow sank deep into the tree trunk beside her.

The sudden turn of events left Song Zhaoyan completely stunned, but she finally grasped what was happening. She stared at the arrows on the ground, eyes wide.

Someone was trying to kill her.

Before she could examine the markings on the arrow shafts, another warning shout came from behind her.

“What are you standing there for? Go!”

Song Zhaoyan no longer hesitated. She immediately clamped her legs around the horse’s belly, pulled the reins tight, and shouted, “Hyah—!”

The horse reared in pain and burst into a wild gallop.

No sooner had she left her original spot than the third and fourth arrows flew in succession, striking heavily into the trunk of a thick tree.

As she galloped frantically forward, there was only one thought in Song Zhaoyan’s mind.

Someone wanted her dead.

Who was it? She hadn’t seen them—but since Pei Shen had saved her, perhaps he had seen the assassin.

That meant the most urgent thing now was to stay alive, then find Pei Shen and have him identify the culprit for her.

She didn’t dare slow down for even a moment, riding on and on without stopping. She had no idea how long she ran before exhaustion finally crept in, and she gradually brought the horse to a halt.

When she lifted her gaze to look around once more, she realized that, without noticing, she had already ridden deep into the heart of the forest.

As Song Zhaoyan wandered leisurely along, she failed to notice that, hidden in the shaded concealment of trees not far away, someone was already aiming a cold, gleaming arrow straight at her chest.

The next instant, there was a sharp “whoosh”—a chilling arrow tore through the air, flying straight toward Song Zhaoyan.

Just as the arrow was about to strike her, another arrow shot in from an unknown direction. Perfectly on target, it knocked the first arrow aside. In the end, both arrows plunged straight into the soft earth.

Song Zhaoyan reined her horse and remained where she was. The surroundings were so quiet that she could hear her own rapid heartbeat and ragged breathing. Her clothes were soaked through with sweat, and she felt as though her heart might leap out of her throat at any moment.

She had no idea where she was. Everything around her was unfamiliar, and she couldn’t even tell which direction it was.

Where is Pei Shen? Had he followed her?

With no way to contact the system, Song Zhaoyan could only search for Pei Shen’s figure.

Unfortunately, she was disappointed—there was no sign of him behind her.

What should she do? She seemed to be lost.

The thought immediately filled her with fear.

Pei Shen really had intended to save her, hadn’t he? If that were the case, then surely, he would follow and look for her… right?

Song Zhaoyan kept comforting herself, yet she knew all too well that the likelihood of that was very small.

On ordinary days, she had bullied him and humiliated him so thoroughly. Although, in certain ways, those acts had resulted in Pei Shen living a better life, he didn’t know that. There was no reason for him to feel grateful.

So, it was only natural that Pei Shen still hated Song Zhaoyan. Wanting her dead was a perfectly normal choice.

Pei Shen wished nothing more than for Song Zhaoyan to die.

His earlier act of saving her might have been nothing more than an instinctive response born of his kind nature. Once he saw her ride off and realized that someone was trying to kill her, he would surely understand that this was an excellent opportunity to get rid of her.

After all, Song Zhaoyan wouldn’t be dying by Pei Shen’s own hand, and he hadn’t completely stood by and watched her die either.

Moreover, anyone capable of orchestrating an assassination within the royal hunting grounds was certainly no ordinary person.

If he continued to save Song Zhaoyan, he might offend whoever stood behind that assassin.

And if the assassin decided to go all the way, wouldn’t Pei Shen end up dragged into trouble as well?

The more Song Zhaoyan thought about it, the clearer it became to her that the chances of Pei Shen coming to look for her were vanishingly small.

At this thought, panic surged even stronger in Song Zhaoyan’s heart.

Since she couldn’t rely on Pei Shen, she could only place her hopes on the system—yet there was no response at all.

“You really are inhuman!” Song Zhaoyan cursed, her voice thick with tears.

She bent forward, draping herself over the horse’s neck, and began to cry.

Autumn was bleak. Her soft sobbing, in such a silent environment, sounded even more eerie.

Song Zhaoyan didn’t dare keep crying. She straightened up and raised a hand to wipe away her tears.

The bored horse shifted now and then. Its hooves crushed dry branches on the ground; the crisp sounds echoed through the forest before silence settled in once more.

Towering trees blocked out the sky, dark shadows slanting down. The once-bright daylight was reduced to scattered patches of light.

Perhaps startled by what had just happened, even the birds that could be heard earlier had fallen completely silent.

The horse seemed restless as well, scraping its horseshoes and grinding the fallen leaves beneath its hooves.

Suddenly, a faint rustling sound came again from deep within the woods, and Song Zhaoyan tensed all over.

Was the assassin moving that fast—had they already chased her here?

She fixed her gaze on the source of the sound, holding her breath, her hands tightening around the reins as if they could give her a sense of safety.

Was there someone there?

Her entire body was taut with tension as she glanced down at her clothes.

The bright red riding outfit stood out starkly against the sea of green in the forest.

Instinctively, Song Zhaoyan tightened her grip on the bow in her hand, then knocked on an arrow and drew it.

She had already made up her mind. If the system wouldn’t respond, then if danger appeared, she would protect herself with the weapon she had been practicing with during this time.

After watching carefully, however, she saw that it was nothing more than a small squirrel darting past.

Phew—just a false alarm!

Song Zhaoyan let out a breath of relief at once.

Only after calming down did she realizes that she was once again drenched in sweat.

It felt as though the forest were a colossal beast, and she had already been swallowed whole, surrounded by nothing but trees, with not a single human figure in sight.

This silent woodland was far more terrifying than any sound could be.

In the stillness, Song Zhaoyan could almost hear her own heartbeat.

Regret surged through her—why had she come in here at all? If she hadn’t entered the forest, she wouldn’t have encountered an assassination attempt.

But if she hadn’t come in… she wouldn’t have known someone was trying to kill her either.

What should she do now? Turn back the way she came? And what if she ran into the assassin?

No, no, that wouldn’t happen. She was the vicious supporting character, not some nameless cannon fodder. She wouldn’t die here.

After reassuring herself this way, a bit of courage finally rose in Song Zhaoyan’s heart.

Just as she began to relax, the sound of hurried hoofbeats reached her from afar.

Her senses went on high alert again. Her eyes sharpened as she immediately looked toward the source of the sound.

In the next instant, her body moved faster than her mind. She raised her bow once more, nocked an arrow, and aimed the cold, gleaming tip toward where the sound was coming from.

“Princess, it’s me!”

It was Pei Shen. He had caught up.

Pei Shen’s face was full of urgency, but the moment he saw Song Zhaoyan’s arrow aimed at him, he quickly reined in his expression and pulled his horse to a halt.

Pei Shen had actually come after her?

Perhaps because, in this unfamiliar forest, she had finally found a companion, Song Zhaoyan let out a long breath of relief. The chill between her brows eased, and her whole body relaxed a little.

Even so, she still didn’t dare lower her guard. The bow in her hands remained raised.

She wasn’t wary of Pei Shen—she was afraid the assassin might have followed him, that the next instant someone would appear behind him.

Her expression turned cold again as her gaze slipped past Pei Shen, scanning the area behind him.

Only after confirming that no one had followed did she bring her eyes back to him.

Pei Shen, unaware of her thoughts, assumed she was suspicious of him, and his expression darkened.

“Princess, aiming your arrow at me—are you doubting me? If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have saved you just now.”

Seeing that Pei Shen had misunderstood, Song Zhaoyan immediately lowered the arrow. “That’s not what I meant. I was only worried someone might have followed you.”

At her explanation, Pei Shen’s expression finally eased. He asked, “Did the Princess see who the assassin was just now?”

Song Zhaoyan froze. She had been planning to ask him the same thing.

So, she shook her head honestly. “If I’d noticed the assassin, I would’ve dodged the arrow myself. I wouldn’t have needed you to save me. But since you spotted the assassin, didn’t you see what he looked like?”

Pei Shen shook his head as well. “I only caught the reflection of the arrowhead and realized there was an assassin. Everything happened too suddenly. And that person was deliberately dressed in green and wore a face covering—I couldn’t see him clearly.”

Dressed in green in the middle of the forest—clearly someone who had come prepared.

So, who could it be?

There were far too many people who hated Song Zhaoyan. For that moment, she truly couldn’t determine who it might be.

But how had that person been so certain she would enter the hunting grounds? Or had they been lying in wait near the entrance all along?

Would someone really use such a clumsy method? Weren’t they afraid of being seen by others?

For the time being, Song Zhaoyan couldn’t make sense of it, so she could only continue asking, “Did you see what the assassin’s arrows looked like?”

As soon as she finished speaking, Pei Shen reached into his quiver and drew out an arrow.

“I thought of that too. I took this one down from the tree and already examined it. The design is very ordinary—there are no markings or identifying signs at all.”

So, there was still no way to identify the assassin.

It seemed whoever wanted her dead had made thorough preparations.

“Do you remember the way back?” Song Zhaoyan asked.

After thinking it over, Pei Shen replied, “If we turn back now, we’ll likely run straight into the assassin.”

“Then… do we keep going deeper?” Song Zhaoyan’s voice trembled slightly.

Pei Shen lifted his head to check the sky, then glanced back at the way they had come before turning to Song Zhaoyan. “That’s probably our only option. If we’re lucky, we might run into His Majesty or other officials who are out hunting. Even if we don’t, if you don’t return for a long time, His Majesty will certainly send people to look for you. In any case, turning back now would be courting death.”

If His Majesty sent people to search for Song Zhaoyan, Pei Shen would naturally be rescued as well. If he were to leave Song Zhaoyan now and encounter the assassin alone, the attacker would surely take out their anger on him for disrupting the plan—and kill him too.

At this point, the two of them could only rely on each other.

Song Zhaoyan understood this logic as well. If she were alone, she would never dare continue deeper into the forest. But now that she had a companion—and that companion was the male lead—her courage grew somewhat.

“Alright, then let’s go.”