The Vicious Woman and the White Moonlight are both me - Chapter 35

As the sky grew ever darker, their luck ran out; they did not encounter His Majesty, nor did they run into a single official.

However, they did find a signpost, and by following it, they discovered a temporary shelter.

The royal hunting grounds required regular maintenance. Yet with forests this vast, even palace servants could lose their way and would naturally need places to rest. Thus, signposts were set up throughout the grounds, and small huts were built as refugees.

Even though they had found a place to stay, Song Zhaoyan felt even more uneasy.

“This place is far too conspicuous. I’m afraid it’s still unsafe.”

Pei Shen, however, remained calm. He dismounted and carefully circled the area around the hut, inspecting it with caution. Soon enough, he discovered several traps.

“These are…?”

“Palace servants who rest here are naturally wary of wild beasts. So, there are many traps set around the hut. If we stay inside and the assassin really does come, they’ll likely fall into one of these traps. Once the assassin is caught, we’ll finally know who wants you dead.”

Song Zhaoyan immediately cast Pei Shen an approving look.

As expected of the male lead—he even knew things like this.

But how did he know?

With a slightly mischievous smile, Song Zhaoyan asked, “Did Zhan Xinyue tell you all this?”

At the mention of Zhan Xinyue, Pei Shen seemed to react subtly—his expression shifting in a way that was almost imperceptible.

He turned his head slightly to the side, though his hands never stopped moving. “You ordered me to practice riding and archery. The instructor told me all this. When they were explaining it, did Your Highness not listen?”

“Huh?” Song Zhaoyan froze, her expression turning a little awkward. “They mentioned things like that too?”

Pei Shen seemed momentarily at a loss for words.

In the next instant, Song Zhaoyan planted her hands on her hips. “Fine then. Teaching riding and archery to both of us, yet he told you all this and didn’t tell me. Just wait—when I get back, I’ll see how I punish him!”

One careless remark from Pei Shen had brought disaster upon the instructor, and he felt a twinge of guilt.

It was clearly Song Zhaoyan herself who hadn’t taken the lessons seriously, yet now she was shifting the blame onto the instructor.

Song Zhaoyan was wicked by nature—that was why so many people loathed her, why someone wanted her dead. Just now, such a perfect opportunity had presented itself. He should have suppressed that impulse and simply watched her die, fulfilling the assassin’s intent!

The thought flashed through Pei Shen’s mind, and his busy hands came to an abrupt stop.

Let Song Zhaoyan die.

At some point, this thought had begun to waver in his heart, no longer as firm as it had once been.

Why was he hesitating? She was clearly so hateful, so humiliating toward him.

Yet when he thought it over carefully, aside from her sharp tongue, she did not seem to have inflicted any truly life-threatening harm.

His current life was incomparably better than it had ever been before.

But—yet—she had once used his mother as leverage, forcing him to obey her!

That was it. Because of that threat, Pei Shen had no choice but to submit. And because he submitted, Song Zhaoyan’s torment of him lessened.

Any so-called kindness toward him had been bought with his own humiliation and submission.

The reason he hesitated now must be because of Zhan Xinyue—her companionship, her counsel—keeping him from sinking entirely into hatred, preserving that last trace of kindness, leading him to save this venomous-hearted Song Zhaoyan.

With that thought, coldness once more welled up in Pei Shen’s eyes as he resumed setting the traps.

Looking at Song Zhaoyan’s back—still somewhat uneasy, still inspecting the traps herself—Pei Shen found even his breathing growing heavy.

“Do you really think these traps can catch the assassin?”

Song Zhaoyan suddenly turned around, asking Pei Shen with a trace of uncertainty. “If the assassin could enter the hunting grounds, then he must be someone familiar with the place. He would surely know that there are traps around these huts. With a bit of lightness skill, wouldn’t he be able to avoid them easily?”

Her turn was too abrupt, but fortunately Pei Shen was quicker to rein in his expression, restoring his composure.

He did not answer her right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on Song Zhaoyan’s clothing, momentarily unfocused.

“You need to change your clothes.”

Song Zhaoyan looked down at her crimson riding outfit. She had thought of this issue earlier as well.

“But how am I supposed to change now?”

Pei Shen remained silent, yet he had already removed his outer robe. Turning his head aside, he held it out to her.

“You’re right. Staying here is still dangerous. Take off your outer layer and wear mine instead. At the very least, it’ll help you blend in a bit.”

Although the person before him was his elder sister in name, Pei Shen had been taught strict propriety between men and women since childhood. Now, letting Song Zhaoyan wear his clothes made him feel awkward instead.

But for the sake of safety, he had no choice.

Song Zhaoyan, of course, understood the idea of propriety, but she wasn’t truly a feudal-era person at heart. Besides, they weren’t doing anything improper, so she felt little need to be overly cautious.

Without any hesitation, she took the robe, quickly removed her own outer garment, and put on Pei Shen’s.

Pei Shen had deliberately avoided looking at her, yet his peripheral vision still caught every movement. In the end, he couldn’t stop his face from flushing. Embarrassed and indignant, he turned his back completely, his tone carrying a hint of reproach.

“What are you doing, Princess? Stripping in broad daylight—couldn’t you at least go inside the hut to change?”

Pei Shen’s unusual reaction startled Song Zhaoyan. Holding her removed outer robe, she found herself unsure whether to toss it away or keep holding on to it.

“What do you mean? I didn’t strip naked. Why make a fuss and go inside?”

Faced with Song Zhaoyan’s utterly shameless reply, Pei Shen was once again rendered speechless with anger.

Perhaps realizing that Pei Shen’s way of thinking was fundamentally different from her own, Song Zhaoyan decided not to waste more time on the matter.

Pei Shen had grown quite a bit taller over this period, yet his clothes were still slightly small on her. Feeling uncomfortable all over, Song Zhaoyan twisted her arms and said, “Enough already. I’m your elder sister, and you’re my younger brother. What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

How was that the same? They weren’t even related by bl00d!

Song Zhaoyan stretched out her hand, offering him the clothes she had taken off. “So what do we do now?”

Pei Shen remained silent for a long while. In the end, he turned back with resignation, snatched the clothes from her hand without a word, and led his horse toward the hut.

“What are you—”

“Hide one horse inside the hut. Just that bit of movement will make the assassin guess that you’re in there. Then we’ll stash your clothes at a spot with a trap inside, so the assassin thinks you’re hiding there and lowers his guard. Since he knows someone rescued you, even if he kills you, he’ll definitely want to confirm your identity. The moment he touches the clothes, the trap will be triggered.”

Song Zhaoyan couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly Pei Shen’s mind worked, her eyes openly filled with admiration.

Seeing her gaze—so different from before—Pei Shen felt a small spark of delight in his chest, but he forced himself to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across his face.

“The traps are set. Let’s go.”

He gently closed the door, then paused, staring at the horse before him. His own mount was already here. With Song Zhaoyan’s temper, would she even allow him to ride alongside her? Most likely, she’d make him hold the reins for her instead.

Sure enough, without a word, Song Zhaoyan swung herself up onto the horse with swift precision.

Once settled, she glanced at Pei Shen, who still stood there in silence, a trace of confusion on her face.

“What are you dawdling for? Not coming up? Waiting for me to ask? Or are you planning to just sit there until the assassin kills you?”

Wait for her?

The thought made Pei Shen momentarily startled. He looked up at her, and the low, brooding part of his heart leapt again with a quiet joy.

“I was just thinking if there’s anything else we need to adjust. I’m coming now!”

Even his voice seemed to lift with energy as he spoke.

He swung himself up onto the horse, mounting alongside Song Zhaoyan.

He dared not hold onto her directly, yet with nothing else to grasp. He risked falling off if the horse jolted.

Pei Shen carefully reached out and grabbed the hem of Song Zhaoyan’s clothing.

But he had grabbed his own outer robe, not Song Zhaoyan herself.

Song Zhaoyan urged her horse forward, weaving through the forest, and where she couldn’t see, Pei Shen finally allowed himself a small, quiet smile.

Perhaps this Princess Zhaohua wasn’t quite so unbearable after all, he thought.

The thought startled him—he felt certain he was losing his mind. The earlier moment, when Song Zhaoyan hadn’t abandoned him and had invited him to ride alongside her, must have clouded his head, prompting such a foolish idea.

Quickly, he pushed the thought back down.

He had no idea how long they’d been riding, but by now both were painfully hungry.

Night had finally fallen, and they came to a stop.

At this point, it wasn’t just the assassins who couldn’t find them—they themselves had no idea where they were.

Not daring to go any further, they looked for a place to rest.

To Song Zhaoyan’s surprise, Pei Shen was remarkably skilled at surviving in the wild; he even carried a fire striker on him.

“How do you have these?”

“I got it from the hut just now.”

“And this flatbread?”

“Also found it inside the hut.”

For the third time, Song Zhaoyan cast Pei Shen a look of admiration.

Although Pei Shen was younger than her, he already displayed far more composure and self-sufficiency. Song Zhaoyan couldn’t help but think back to her history lessons—no wonder Qin Shi Huang ascended the throne at thirteen, and Gan Luo could serve as prime minister at twelve. Now, such achievements were made tangible right before her eyes.

Honestly, with the system completely useless today, if it weren’t for Pei Shen, Song Zhaoyan probably wouldn’t even know where she would have died.

“You really make me look at you in a new light!”

Pei Shen smiled faintly. “Princess, are you just complimenting yourself in a roundabout way?”

Song Zhaoyan was puzzled and surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve given me quite a range of books to read, Princess. Not all the works are by sages and wise men—many are travelogues, documenting journeys across mountains and rivers.”

Those were exactly the kind of books Pei Shen loved most. He envied the freedom of those who wrote them, longing for a day when he could leave the palace, build his own household, and live freely.

Song Zhaoyan murmured, “No wonder you were so composed on your first outdoor survival—so you had prepared in advance. I even thought it was all things Zhan Xinyue had told you!”

Whether Pei Shen heard her or not, he said nothing, focusing intently on roasting the flatbread.

Before long, the bread was done. It couldn’t compare to the delicacies of the palace, but it carried a rich, inviting aroma.

Pei Shen handed her a piece. “It’s not a palace delicacy, but it will fill your stomach. Princess, don’t be picky.”

Without hesitation, Song Zhaoyan blew on the bread and took small bites.

Seeing her eat like that, Pei Shen was inevitably a little surprised.

He had expected her to disdain the bread, toss it aside, and scold him to go hunt some game for her.

But that scene never appeared. Song Zhaoyan seemed perfectly accustomed to such simple food and ate with genuine care.

Ha! Perhaps she was simply very hungry.

Pei Shen thought this to himself as he lowered his head and ate his own piece of bread.

By now, night has fallen. Surely the Emperor must have learned that Princess Zhaohua had gone missing and had already sent people in full force to search—but who knew when they would find them.

Even so, this was hardly the ideal time to be found; most likely, they would have to spend the night in the forest.

Song Zhaoyan didn’t complain once, which only surprised Pei Shen further.

In his experience, how could Princess Zhaohua ever be this easy to get along with?

Of course—though Song Zhaoyan wasn’t particularly clever, she wasn’t a fool either. She must realize that their current situation was dangerous and couldn’t afford to act like her usual self. Her restraint now was probably just fearing that Pei Shen would leave her behind.

It had to be that way.

The outdoors was nothing like the luxurious palace of Chaoyang; the dampness and insects made sleep impossible.

With nothing pressing to do, the two passed the time with idle conversation.

“Princess, why did you want to come into the hunting grounds?”

Song Zhaoyan answered honestly, “I wanted to show my skills and win the first prize!”

Pei Shen didn’t question further, though in his heart he had already guessed: win the prize, then beg the Emperor to spare Pei Chengyun.

He fell silent again, while Song Zhaoyan, having spoken, drifted into her own recollections.

She thought back to the events before entering the hunting grounds today. Setting aside the system’s missions, it was indeed her own initiative to suggest hunting—but it was prompted by Aunt Tao’s hint, mentioning Pei Chengyun, that led Song Zhaoyan to come here.

Could Aunt Tao really be up to something?

The suspicion flashed through her mind, and Song Zhaoyan slightly furrowed her brows, immediately sitting up straighter.

This small movement instantly caught Pei Shen’s attention.

“Princess, what’s wrong?”

There was no proof, just her conjecture. If she wanted to confirm that Aunt Tao was suspicious, she would have to wait until they got out and find an opportunity to gather evidence.

“Nothing, just a mosquito bite,” she said, leaning back against the tree again.

The forest was damp, and even though they were close to the fire, Song Zhaoyan still felt a chill. Pei Shen, having one less layer of clothing, must have felt it even more.

She glanced at him, saying nothing, but quietly shifted her body closer.

“What are you doing, Princess?”

Song Zhaoyan glared at him. “I’m cold. You’re my brother, aren’t you supposed to keep me warm?”

“You—”

Though her tone was irritating, Pei Shen couldn’t deny that leaning together made them warmer.

Fine, he thought, this way I get a little warmth too.

But still… Song Zhaoyan is really annoying!