The Vicious Woman and the White Moonlight are both me - Chapter 8

Dressed in a eunuch’s uniform, Pei Shen truly looked like the part of a lowly servant. He stood silently off to the side, tense and wary, wondering when Song Zhaoyan would find a new way to torment or humiliate him again.

While waiting for the food to be brought in, Song Zhaoyan asked the system if there was any kind of medicine that didn’t need to be taken orally or applied externally but could still help heal Pei Shen’s injuries.

[Searching for suitable options… Found: a colorless, scentless medicinal incense. When burned, the smoke can be absorbed through breathing, promoting recovery.]

[Would you like to exchange for this item?]

Without hesitation, Song Zhaoyan said, “Exchange it.”

The system complied, helping her place the medicinal incense into the burner.

She glanced at Pei Shen, wondering how long it would take for the effects to kick in.

Soon, palace maids filed in one after another, carrying dishes that were as exquisite as they were aromatic. The table was soon filled with delicacies—rich colors, enticing scents, and mouthwatering dishes.

The fragrance was irresistible, tempting everyone’s appetite.

Pei Shen had never eaten such fine food before. In fact, he had barely even seen such things in his life. Though he clung to his pride and dignity, he couldn’t help it—his gaze drifted toward the table, stealing glances at the feast from the corner of his eye.

The sight alone made his throat tighten. He swallowed hard, trying to tear his eyes away, but found that he couldn’t move at all.

Song Zhaoyan, ever malicious, seemed to notice his discomfort—and at once, another idea for humiliating him began to form in her mind.

“Allow me to serve you, Your Highness,” Xuezhi said, picking up the chopsticks as she always did, ready to serve Song Zhaoyan her meal.

But before she could begin, Song Zhaoyan raised her hand to stop her, then turned and crooked a finger toward Pei Shen.

“Take a rest today, Xuezhi. Looks like we’ve found someone new to wait on me, haven’t we?”

Her gaze burned as it landed on Pei Shen. He instantly understood her intent—but his body remained still.

Song Zhaoyan’s expression hardened. With a sharp slap of her hand against the table, she snapped, “Pei Shen! Get over here and serve me! Or do you intend to wait until I have someone drag you here myself?”

Pei Shen clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ached, but in the end, he stepped forward.

Just as Song Zhaoyan had said, though he was a prince, he had never lived a life of luxury—never been served, never had to serve anyone either. He had no idea how to properly attend to her now.

Still, even if he made mistakes, he refused to debase himself with fawning obedience.

“That one.”

Song Zhaoyan raised her hand and pointed lazily toward a particular dish, signaling that she wanted it.

Pei Shen picked up the chopsticks, his throat tightened as he swallowed hard, then silently lifted a piece of the dish and placed it into her bowl.

Only then did Song Zhaoyan begin to eat—slowly, elegantly, savoring every bite of the feast before her.

She had woken late that morning and taken her breakfast late as well, so she wasn’t starving. Even so, she ate a little—then soon declared herself full.

“Enough,” Song Zhaoyan said, setting her chopsticks down.

At once, Xuezhi stepped forward with a cup of tea for her to rinse her mouth.

Seeing that Song Zhaoyan had finished eating, Pei Shen quietly lowered the chopsticks he had been holding all along and averted his gaze.

He knew she had seen right through his discomfort—knew that this was exactly what she wanted: to watch him squirm, to humiliate him. Which was precisely why he couldn’t give her that satisfaction.
When she was done rinsing her mouth, Song Zhaoyan glanced over the table full of untouched dishes and sneered.

“Pei Shen,” she said, her tone light but cutting, “you’re a prince, yet now you’re standing here serving me like a servant. You must be furious inside, aren’t you? Too bad—no matter how angry you are, you’ll just have to swallow it.”

Then she stood, covering her lips with a delicate hand as she gave a graceful yawn. “You’re only worthy of serving me—and eating what’s left after I’m done.”

As she turned to leave, she spoke over her shoulder to Xuezhi, her voice cool and casual.

“Keep an eye on him. Make sure he finishes everything on the table. If there’s a single dish left, he’ll get as many lashes as there are leftovers.”

With that, Song Zhaoyan’s figure disappeared toward the inner chamber, clearly intending to take her afternoon nap.

For a moment, Pei Shen thought he must have misheard.

He could eat the food on the table?

Of course, her words were meant to humiliate him—not through pain, but by trampling what little pride he still had.

She had already forced him into a eunuch’s uniform, made him serve her like a lowly attendant… and now she wanted him to eat her leftovers.

Yet, if he thought about it another way—perhaps, even if unintentionally—Song Zhaoyan had done him a small favor.

After all, if he stayed in his drenched clothes much longer, he would have fallen ill.

When she’d had him serve her, she hadn’t actually taken much—there was still plenty of food left on the table.

They might have been leftovers, but every dish had been handled with serving chopsticks, kept clean, and untouched—finer fare than Pei Shen had ever seen, much less tasted.

And truthfully, it was noon. He should have eaten by now. He was starving.

Seeing him stand frozen in place, Xuezhi spoke up, her tone edged with condescension. “Ninth Prince, you’d better start eating. Otherwise, you’ll only be asking for another round of punishment later.”

Pei Shen finally stirred. He ladled himself a bowl of soup first, taking slow sips.

Since he had to eat, he might as well eat properly. Even if Xuezhi weren’t watching, Pei Shen wouldn’t have left a single bite behind.

He ate unhurriedly—not out of refinement or princely decorum, but because he wanted to savor every bite, to remember each flavor. Who knew when, or if, he’d ever get to eat like this again?

Song Zhaoyan had claimed she was going to sleep, but once Xuezhi helped her lie down, she immediately slipped out from under the covers, bare feet touching the cool floor. Quiet as a cat, she tiptoed to the doorway and peeked out toward the hall.

There, she saw Pei Shen eating—seriously, quietly, without resentment, simply focusing on the meal before him.

Only then did Song Zhaoyan let out a small breath of relief.

At least that eased a bit of the guilt pricking her conscience for having bullied him so harshly earlier.

Patting her chest lightly, she turned back to bed, feeling oddly at peace.

She hadn’t been sleepy before, but after lying there for a while, drowsiness finally took her.

When she woke, she sat up in a daze for a moment before calling, “Xuezhi.”

As the maid entered to help her freshen up, Song Zhaoyan asked casually, “Where’s Pei Shen?”

As Xuezhi gently gathered Song Zhaoyan’s hair and began to pin it up, she said softly, “The Ninth Prince has already left Chaoyang Palace.”

The words had barely left her lips when Song Zhaoyan’s expression darkened. She slammed her palm hard against the dressing table, the sound sharp and ringing.

“Outrageous! Without this palace’s permission, who allowed him to leave Chaoyang Palace?”

Xuezhi jumped, panic flashing across her face. But she quickly composed herself and stammered, “Please forgive me, Your Highness. I’ll send Eunuch Xu to bring the Ninth Prince back at once!”

Eunuch Xu was the steward of Chaoyang Palace. Since Song Zhaoyan made no objection, Xuezhi hurriedly sent someone to deliver the order.

Song Zhaoyan’s sudden “anger” wasn’t entirely without reason—she had just woken up to find the system unlocking a new plot update.

[New scenario: The Ninth Prince, long scorned and bullied by everyone—and despised even by Princess Zhaohua herself—is now to be declared untouchable. No one is permitted to harm him.]

Though Princess Zhaohua’s words in this plotline didn’t exactly “defend” Pei Shen, they were enough to draw attention—and sympathy—to his plight.

After all, he was still a prince. The rumor that Princess Zhaohua had publicly humiliated him by splashing ink on him today would spread quickly and sound far too cruel.

And since Fifth Prince Pei Chengyun had always “pitied” Pei Shen, it was only natural that he would seize the chance to speak up on his behalf—by reporting the incident directly to the Empress.

As the mistress of the Inner Palace and mother to the empire, the Empress might have preferred to ignore the neglected Ninth Prince under normal circumstances. But with someone officially bringing the matter to her attention, she could hardly turn a blind eye.

Thus, as soon as Pei Shen left Chaoyang Palace, the Empress’s attendants arrived to summon him away.

According to the system, this was precisely how the original story unfolded: the Empress, unhappy that the spoiled Princess Zhaohua bullied not only minor princes and princesses but even her own legitimate son, had decided to intervene—especially since His Majesty continued to dote on Song Zhaoyan without reason.

The Empress’s heart ached at the thought of her own son being bullied, so she devised a clever scheme—to redirect the trouble elsewhere.

She secretly had people spread a rumor to the original Song Zhaoyan: that the reason Pei Shen’s mother had once been favored by the Emperor was because she resembled Song Zhaoyan’s late mother.

The Empress knew Song Zhaoyan’s temperament all too well. The moment she heard that another woman had gained favor for looking like her mother, disgust and resentment would take root in her heart. Naturally, that resentment would turn toward Pei Shen—his mother’s son.

And just like that, the Empress neatly shifted the target of Song Zhaoyan’s cruelty. The other princes and princesses could breathe easy once more.

As things stood now, events were unfolding exactly as the Empress had predicted.

Song Zhaoyan had indeed turned her malice on Pei Shen. The Empress, who had engineered it all, was naturally pleased. Since this had been her own doing, she had no intention of defending Pei Shen now.

But unexpectedly, Fifth Prince Pei Chengyun had gone straight to the Empress, lodging a complaint on Pei Shen’s behalf—claiming that Princess Zhaohua had bullied him. That forced the Empress’s hand.

Of course, Pei Chengyun’s motive wasn’t pure compassion. He wasn’t truly standing up for Pei Shen—he was simply looking for a way to make the Empress uncomfortable.

After all, in the inner palace, his own mother—the Imperial Consort—was the Empress’s fiercest rival.

And since Song Zhaoyan adored Pei Chengyun, she never caused him any trouble. But if Pei Shen became the scapegoat for all her malice, keeping the other princes safe, that balance no longer benefited Pei Chengyun.

In the struggle for power, every rival on the path to the throne was an enemy.

Pei Shen might pose little threat now, but if he learned that all his undeserved suffering had been orchestrated by the Empress herself—well, then the palace might yet have a fine show to watch.

After leaving Chaoyang Palace, Pei Shen hadn’t yet made it back to his own secluded quarters in Duwei Hall when he was stopped midway by attendants from the Empress’s palace.

He was still dressed in a eunuch’s uniform. He’d planned to change first, but the eunuch leading the way spoke curtly; his tone edged with disdain. “Her Majesty must not be kept waiting.”

Pei Shen could only suppress his frustration and follow, still wearing the humiliating outfit. His expression was tight with discomfort as he trailed behind the palace attendant, crossing nearly half the imperial grounds before arriving at Fengyi Palace—the residence of the Empress.

And just like that, his disgrace was on full display for all to see. Every servant, every guard they passed, had witnessed his humiliation. The bitterness in Pei Shen’s chest toward Song Zhaoyan deepened even further.

At this point, though, perhaps because he’d been humiliated so many times already, the sting was starting to be dull. He found himself almost numb at it all.

Expressionless, he knelt on the cold floor of the grand hall; head lowered, while the Empress’s voice rang out above him, cool and imperious.

“You’ve always appeared well-behaved and obedient,” she said, her tone deceptively calm. “Yet, who would have thought that your quiet manners were merely an act? Today, you disrupted order in the Study Hall, distracted the princes and princesses from their lessons, and even dared to offend Princess Zhaohua. She has already brought the matter to this palace herself. If I do not punish you, how am I to discipline the others in the future? Pei Shen, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Of course, he did—but what was the point?

He couldn’t defend himself, not in front of her.

Song Zhaoyan truly was vicious. Not only had she humiliated him, but she also now had the gall to play the victim and report him to the Empress.

Yet something about it didn’t sit right. Song Zhaoyan had never gotten along with the Empress—so why would she suddenly turn to her for “justice”?

What Pei Shen didn’t know was that it hadn’t been Song Zhaoyan who filed the complaint at all—it was Pei Chengyun. The Empress, however, deliberately claimed otherwise.

Still, Pei Shen had been in Chaoyang Palace the entire time. He hadn’t seen Song Zhaoyan send anyone to Fengyi Palace… which only made the situation more baffling.

Without Princess Zhaohua’s explicit order, no one in the palace would dare act on their own.

So… had the complaint really come from Song Zhaoyan?

Pei Shen stayed silent, but his mind was already turning rapidly.

Yes, he hated Song Zhaoyan—but that didn’t mean he was fool enough to be deceived so easily.

After thinking it through, a few pieces began to fall into place.

Everyone in the palace knew that Princess Zhaohua was infatuated with Fifth Prince Pei Chengyun.

Today, the Ninth Prince—himself—had supposedly “offended” Princess Zhaohua yet again. Pei Chengyun, on the surface, had spoken up in his defense, but in truth? He was probably doing it out of concern for the princess, pretending to act on her behalf.

So, likely he’d gone to the Empress privately, asking her to punish Pei Shen for Zhaohua’s sake. Everything fit neatly together.

At that thought, Pei Shen let out a faint, mirthless snort in his heart. His Fifth Brother—so polished on the outside, yet rotten within. He really was a perfect match for that arrogant, vicious princess.

Though Pei Shen’s guess about Pei Chengyun’s motives wasn’t quite right, the Empress’s scheme had already achieved exactly what she wanted.

Pei Chengyun had intended to use the Empress to put Song Zhaoyan in a difficult position, while he himself played the benevolent mediator. But the Empress had no intention of letting him manipulate her so easily. She simply twisted the story, making it seem as though the complaint came from Song Zhaoyan herself.

Seeing that Pei Shen remained silent, offering no defense or protest, the Empress found it convenient—less trouble that way.

“If the Ninth Prince has no objections,” she said coolly, “then proceed with the punishment. Guards!”

The order had barely left her lips when hurried footsteps sounded from outside the hall. A palace maid rushed in to announce something, but before she could even finish her words, a sharp, imperious voice rang out from beyond the doors—

“I’d like to see who dares!”