The Vicious Woman and the White Moonlight are both me - Chapter 9

The moment that familiar voice rang through the hall, the Empress’s expression darkened instantly.

Kneeling on the cold floor, Pei Shen couldn’t quite explain the strange flutter that stirred within him.

For a moment, something in his chest trembled—a faint, unfamiliar ache.

He didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was because of those words, so sharp and commanding, yet laced with the unshakable certainty of protection. For someone who had never known what it felt like to be defended by anyone, that single sentence stirred something dangerously close to… warmth.

But Pei Shen quickly smothered the thought. He knew it wasn’t her—not Song Zhaoyan herself—that made him feel that way. It was just the words.

After all, Song Zhaoyan was a woman devoid of conscience, a venomous creature with a heart as black as ink. He could string together every word of cruelty and wickedness in the world, and it still wouldn’t capture even a tenth of her depravity.

_______

The Empress and Song Zhaoyan had never been on good terms. Over the years, the Empress had repeatedly tried to use others as her knives, plotting against the original Princess Zhaohua from the shadows—though the foolish girl had never realized it.

While she might not have seen through the Empress’s schemes, she had also never once felt genuine kindness from her. As a result, the princess rarely ever set foot in Fengyi Palace.

But today, Song Zhaoyan barged straight into the Empress’s hall without even waiting for an announcement—an act of blatant disrespect.

Then again, it wasn’t her first offense.

Princess Zhaohua had always been willful and overbearing, shielded by the Emperor’s endless indulgence. The Empress could do nothing to rein her.

Otherwise, with all the princes and princesses she had bullied over the years, why else would the Empress resort to roundabout schemes like “shifting the trouble elsewhere,” instead of simply punishing Song Zhaoyan outright?

Seeing Song Zhaoyan storm in with hostility written all over her face, the Empress’s expression darkened immediately. Her voice, cool and measured, cut through the tense air.

“Princess Zhaohua, since you call His Majesty Father Emperor, even if you refuse to address me as Mother Empress, you should at least remember the manners befitting a princess. In the past, I overlooked your unruly conduct because you were still young. But in just over a month, you’ll turn fifteen and take part in your coming-of-age ceremony. If you continue to behave this rudely and recklessly, those court censors will start blaming His Majesty for raising an uneducated daughter.”

The Empress was, after all, the Empress. Even with the Emperor’s favor protecting Song Zhaoyan, she was no timid courtier who would bow and scrape before the girl like the other princes and princesses did, all too eager to please her out of fear.

Since their relationship was already strained, the Empress saw no need to pretend at gentleness or virtue. Her sharp gaze fixed coldly on Song Zhaoyan.

But rather than flinch, Song Zhaoyan lifted her chin, eyes burning with defiance as she met that glare head-on.

“No need for the Empress to trouble herself over me,” she said, her tone dripping with insolence. “After all, no matter how I behave, Father Emperor likes me just the way I am. Unlike certain brothers and sisters—no matter how noble their titles—they can’t seem to earn even a fraction of his affection.”

Her words were so brazen they begged for a slap, and the taunting smile that curved her lips only made it worse.

Rage surged through the Empress. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her long nails—painted a deep crimson—dug hard into the embroidered cushion beside her.

The Empress’s own son, the Crown Prince, was born of the main consort—royal by both bl00d and title. He had been named heir at a young age, the pride of the palace.

But that pride had long since turned to humiliation.

The Crown Prince was a fool—shameless and indulgent, obsessed with beauty, caring little whether it was man or woman.

And as the saying went, you can’t stand by the river and never get your feet wet.

A few years ago, the prince had tried to force himself on a handsome young eunuch. The boy, fierce and unyielding, had kicked him and shoved him into the lotus pond.

It was early spring then; the water was still icy cold. By the time they dragged the prince out, he’d caught a lingering illness that had never quite left him.

As for the eunuch who dared to injure the Crown Prince—naturally, his fate had been far worse.

Though every servant who knew the truth had been silenced, there’s no such thing as a wall that doesn’t let the wind through. Before long, whispers of the incident spread through the entire palace. The favored consorts who opposed the Empress gleefully fanned the flames, adding embellishments and letting the tale run wild.

The Emperor had flown into a rage when he heard it. Though he hadn’t dared depose the Crown Prince outright—restrained by the influence of the Empress’s powerful family—his disgust was plain. The Crown Prince’s reputation plummeted, and so did the Emperor’s regard for him.

With the Crown Prince’s fall from favor, the Empress’s position as well grew precarious. She had tried, over the years, to bear another son and secure her standing, but Heaven had not granted her the chance.

Now, as other princes grew older, more capable, and increasingly admired by the Emperor, anxiety gnawed at her heart day and night.

And at this very moment, Song Zhaoyan’s words had struck exactly where it hurt most—cutting not just into the Empress’s pride, but her very survival.

The Empress was furious—her pulse thundered in her ears—but she dared not let her rage show. She knew perfectly well what Song Zhaoyan was doing: goading her into a loss of control, so she could turn around and cry injustice before the Emperor.

If that happened, the Emperor’s dislike for the Crown Prince—and by extension, for the Empress—would only deepen. And when Song Zhaoyan later stepped forward to smooth things over on behalf of her beloved Fifth Prince, Pei Chengyun, the favor and sympathy would all fall neatly into his hands.

So, no matter how much fury burned in her chest, the Empress could only swallow it down.

“Princess Zhaohua rarely visits Fengyi Palace,” she said coldly, her tone clipped and formal. “To barge in so suddenly today—what brings you here?”

Seeing the Empress go straight to the point, Song Zhaoyan let the mocking smile fade from her lips, dropping her sharp tone.

“Nothing much,” she said, voice soft but clear. “I’m merely here to take back what belongs to me.”

As she spoke, her gaze dipped ever so slightly—and landed on Pei Shen, who was still kneeling at her side.

Hearing that, the Empress was momentarily stunned, her eyes flashing with disbelief as she turned to look at Pei Shen’s expressionless face.

“You mean… he’s yours? Pei Shen?”

That didn’t make sense. The plan had clearly worked—by now, Song Zhaoyan was supposed to despise Pei Shen. So why was she suddenly protecting him?

The Empress’s gaze flicked toward her trusted maid. A subtle, questioning look—was the information wrong?

Song Zhaoyan, however, didn’t bother with pleasantries. She spoke bluntly, each word crisp and commanding.

“That’s right. Him. I’m taking him back.”

The Empress paused for a moment, then a slow, calculated smile spread across her lips.

“How curious. Since when did the Ninth Prince become your person? He came to Fengyi Palace to file a complaint, saying you bullied him.”

Song Zhaoyan’s expression didn’t change, though her lashes lowered slightly as she cast a brief glance toward Pei Shen.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware that Pei Shen came here voluntarily to lodge a complaint against me.” Her voice was soft but carried unmistakable authority. “Well then, Pei Shen—why don’t you tell us what exactly you’ve come to accuse me of?”

Pei Shen remained silent.

If he said he hadn’t come of his own will, it would be a direct slap to the Empress’s face—and offending her meant he’d never have peace again.

But if he admitted that he had come here to complain, then even if the Empress scolded Song Zhaoyan a little, she wouldn’t truly punish her. And once he offended Song Zhaoyan, the Empress wouldn’t protect him either.

He was trapped either way.

Pei Shen lowered his head, his fingers tightening until the knuckles turned white, the faint sound of his nails digging into his palms barely audible in the heavy silence that hung over the hall.

Song Zhaoyan stood there, waiting quietly, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips—sharp and cold as a blade.

Finally, Pei Shen spoke; his voice was low and hoarse.

“Your Majesty… I did not come to Fengyi Palace of my own accord.”

The entire hall fell silent.

The Empress’s smile froze, her fingers trembling slightly as a shadow flickered across her eyes.

Song Zhaoyan smiled faintly and turned toward her, voice bright and sweet as if nothing at all had happened.

“You heard him, didn’t you? Pei Shen was brought here.”

Then, with a graceful bow, she said coolly, “Since the misunderstanding has cleared up, I’ll be taking my person back now.”

On one side stood the Empress, mistress of the inner palace; on the other, the favored Princess who held the Emperor’s heart.

Between the two, Pei Shen could afford to offend either. Which meant, in the end, the only one who could be at fault was him.

How laughable.

A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips.

This wretched life of his—anyone could toy with it as they pleased.

Song Zhaoyan could tell that Pei Shen harbored resentment toward her. She couldn’t blame him. After all, these past few days, she had been “bullying” him.

But she also knew perfectly well that Pei Shen hadn’t come to Fengyi Palace of his own accord. If she kept pressing him to explain himself, she’d only drive him into a tighter corner.

So, she leisurely smoothed her sleeves, composed as ever, and spoke before Pei Shen could open his mouth to admit fault.

“Although I am but Father’s adopted daughter,” she said slowly, her tone serene yet steady, “I’ve always felt grateful for his kindness in raising me. As a daughter, it’s only right that I share some of his burdens. My other brothers and sisters all have their mothers to care for them—but Ninth Brother stands alone, with no one to guide him. Naturally, as his elder sister, I must take more care of him. I only meant to urge him to study harder, not realizing that others might mistake my good intentions for bullying.”

She smiled faintly after speaking; her words were perfectly measured—a neat, plausible explanation for what had happened at the academy earlier that day. Even if everyone present knew how hollow the excuse was, none dared to call her out on it.

Pei Shen, however, knew the truth of what had happened in the study hall. Hearing her say this, he could only sneer inwardly.

She had literally splashed a whole bowl of ink across his face—humiliated him before everyone—and now she could still say, without so much as a flicker of shame, that it had all been “for his own good.”

Pei Shen found her words utterly contemptible. Yet when the Empress turned to him and asked whether Song Zhaoyan’s explanation was true, he could only swallow his pride and lie through his teeth to protect her.

“Pei Shen,” the Empress asked coolly, “is what the Zhaohua Princess says true?”

Pei Shen inclined his head, his voice low and even. “Replying to Your Majesty, it is.”

Then, after a pause, he turned slightly toward Song Zhaoyan and added, “Thank you, Royal Sister, for your concern over my studies.”

Song Zhaoyan’s lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. It seemed the matter had been neatly settled—she could now take him away without further trouble.

But the Empress had no intention of letting the boy off so easily.

In her eyes, Pei Shen was simply begging to be punished.

Song Zhaoyan had humiliated him so thoroughly, yet when the Empress handed him the perfect chance to complain, he’d instead chosen to defend her. It was as if he cared nothing for the Empress’s authority.

That wretched little princess without father or mother might get away with defying her under the Emperor’s indulgence—but a neglected prince daring to slight her? That was another matter entirely.

If she couldn’t touch Song Zhaoyan, then she would make an example of Pei Shen.

The Empress’s face hardened once more, her voice turning cold. “The Emperor is busy with matters of state,” the Empress said coldly. “As Empress, it is my duty to oversee the conduct and education of the imperial children. The Ninth Prince has been neglecting his studies, and now he dares to slander Princess Zhaohua, who only sought his good? Such behavior deserves punishment. Guards—”

“Wait!”

Before the Empress could finish, Song Zhaoyan’s voice cut sharply through the hall. She had spoken faster than she could think.

The Empress raised a brow. “Princess Zhaohua, what is the meaning of this? Do you intend to shield this offender?”

Song Zhaoyan stepped forward; her chin tilted in that familiar, defiant way, her tone haughty and unyielding.

“Offender? Isn’t that a bit much, Your Majesty? He merely slacked off a little in his studies—does that make him a criminal? If so, wouldn’t that make Crown Prince Brother guilty of a far greater crime?”

“You—!”

For the first time, the Empress’s carefully maintained composure cracked.

Before his injury, the Crown Prince had been notorious for indulging in pleasure and neglecting his studies. And after losing his manhood, his conduct had grown even more depraved—he’d replaced nearly all his palace guards with handsome young men. Everyone in the court knew what that implied, though none dared say it aloud.

No one—except this insolent princess.

Even the Emperor’s most favored consorts would never dare voice such things. After all, to speak them was not only to humiliate the Empress, but to slap the Emperor’s face as well.

The Empress’s chest rose and fell sharply, fury simmering in her eyes as she glared at Song Zhaoyan.

But the princess only met her gaze head-on. Unflinching, the corners of her lips curling into a faint, mocking smile.

“Your Majesty the Empress, may I take Pei Shen with me now?”

The Empress’s sharp gaze locked onto Song Zhaoyan, her eyes like blades. If looks could kill, Song Zhaoyan would have died a thousand deaths already.

But when the Empress’s attention shifted back to Pei Shen, her fury cooled into something colder—mocking amusement.

“Princess Zhaohua claims she only wishes the Ninth Prince well, calling him ‘Ninth Brother’ with such affection. Yet why is he dressed like a eunuch?”

Song Zhaoyan lowered her gaze briefly, casting a calm glance at Pei Shen before replying, her voice steady as ever.

“Ninth Brother’s clothes were soiled. I’ve already sent someone to fetch a new set. My palace has no men’s garments, after all. What would Your Majesty have me do—dress him in my clothes instead?”

Then she looked back at the Empress, her tone cool and measured.

“Your Majesty has a whole harem to oversee and countless matters to attend to. There’s no need to trouble yourself with such trivial things as my brother’s wardrobe. As for something else—this will be the second time I’ve said it today. My temper isn’t good, so please don’t make me say it a third time. Otherwise… I can’t guarantee what I might do.”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at her, curiosity and disbelief mingling in their eyes.

“Pei Shen—” Song Zhaoyan’s voice tightened, each word clipped and edged, as if she were gritting her teeth. It sounded as though she was about to curse him, to shred him to pieces with her tongue.

“His birth mother bears a striking resemblance to mine—three parts similar, at least. Many of you probably already know this. I only found out recently. From this day on, only I am allowed to discipline him. If anyone else so much as dares lay a finger on him, I’ll take it as an insult against me. And if that happens… Don’t blame me for what comes next. Understood?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and shocking. No one dared respond—not even a whisper. This was, after all, the Empress’s domain. Yet even in silence, every court lady and servant committed the princess’s warning to memory.

Song Zhaoyan turned back to the Empress once more.

“Your Majesty, as for Ninth Brother’s studies, I’ll take responsibility as his elder sister. How I choose to teach or discipline him is my concern. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be taking my leave.”

Without so much as a bow, she gave a disdainful huff and turned on her heel.

Then, pausing beside Pei Shen, she said coolly, “Still kneeling? Are you waiting for me to help you up?”

With that, she swept out of the hall without another glance.

Pei Shen was caught in an impossible bind. No matter which side he chose, he would offend someone. But after failing to support the Empress just moments ago, he had already earned her displeasure. Now, he could only follow Song Zhaoyan’s lead.

He gave the Empress a respectful bow, then rose to his feet and followed after the princess.