Song of the Bright Moon Chapter 108

The golden-red rays of sunset gradually fell over the celadon tiles of the Zichen Palace. As the sun waned, the light dimmed, like a painting fading with time.

Consort Xian should have left, yet her feet felt nailed to the corridor.

A maid quietly reminded her: “Your Highness, it’s late.”

“Wait a little longer,” Consort Xian replied.

Wait for what, she did not know.

She only felt unease, as if something were suspended over her chest, swaying, making her restless.

Soon, there was movement inside.

The Chief Eunuch, Feng An, emerged. Seeing Consort Xian, even the old eunuch looked surprised: “Your Highness, is there something you need?”

Consort Xian smiled gracefully: “Nothing. I merely thought standing here watching the sunset was quite a sight.”

As she spoke, she glanced at the tightly shut vermilion carved doors: “Chief Eunuch, why are you not attending inside?”

The old eunuch said, “His Majesty has urgent matters to discuss with Consort Shu and ordered me to step aside.”

Urgent matters.

Consort Xian’s smile stiffened slightly. For some reason, her mind immediately recalled last year, in the Ministry of Justice prison, when Jinhua drank the poisoned wine, that sinister, grinning face.

She had said she left a backup plan.

Could it be referring to Consort Shu?

Yes. The enemy of one’s enemy is a friend. She had failed to protect Jinhua; with Jinhua’s vengeful nature, she would not have let her live in peace.

Thinking of Consort Shu’s makeup before entering and her cryptic words “I return the favor”— Consort Xian felt as if she had fallen into an ice pit, her whole body chilled.

No matter how many precautions she took, she had overlooked this critical moment.

Annoyance spread quickly in her chest. She clenched her palms, forcing herself to calm down and consider a plan.

If Consort Shu truly told His Majesty about the past…

Then, these two…

Would both be unable to remain.

Lowering her eyelids to hide the shifting murderous intent in her eyes, she clenched her fingers and waited, steadying her breath.

Yet, until the last ray of sunset was swallowed by the deepening night, the bedchamber door remained closed.

The eerie silence not only confused Consort Xian, but even Chief Eunuch Feng An frowned.

“It’s almost time for the evening meal. Shall I go inside and ask?” Consort Xian said.

Feng An nodded, reached the door, and called: “Your Majesty.”

No response.

Raising his voice, he called again: “Your Majesty, is it time for the evening meal?”

Still, the hall remained in oppressive silence.

The situation was too strange. Consort Xian could not care for anything else; she hurried forward and pushed the door open.

The spacious, grand Golden Hall was lit by only a few scattered lamps. The air carried the bitter, complex scent of dragon’s blood incense mixed with medicinal herbs; faintly, she could smell blood.

As she stepped further in, the scene before her shocked both her and Feng An into speechlessness.

On the large dragon bed, blankets were in disarray, pillows fallen to the ground. Emperor Zhaoning lay stiffly, eyes wide, eyeballs bulging, fingers curled, his thin, haggard face a grayish-blue.

Consort Shu, dressed in deep cyan, lay by the bedside, eyes tightly closed, face pale. A deep cut ran along the snow-white wrist resting at her side.

Blood soaked the hem of her pale gown in large patches, flowing like serpents along the footboard, soaking into the embroidered floor covering.

“Your Majesty!” Feng An cried, rushing forward.

Consort Xian had not expected such a scene.

She staggered toward the bed. Feng An checked the emperor’s breath and paled: “He… he’s gone.”

The emperor was dead.

This realization emptied Consort Xian’s mind for a moment.

But only for a moment. She quickly regained composure, feeling more a strange relief than grief.

Dead, huh.

Let him be dead.

She glanced indifferently at the old emperor who would not rest, then knelt to check on Consort Shu.

Feeling for her breath, she found a faint pulse remained.

Pressing on Consort Shu’s philtrum, she called: “Consort Shu, wake up.”

Consort Shu’s eyes remained closed.

Consort Xian did not know why, but she could not let her be as if dead. She still wanted to ask her questions, to speak with her.

So she continued pressing Consort Shu’s philtrum, tapping her face, hoarsely shouting: “Zheng Yuerong, wake up.”

Unexpectedly, she drew a small breath from Consort Shu. Her eyelids twitched faintly.

When she recognized Consort Xian, she gave a pale, strained smile.

“You’re still… smiling.” Consort Xian grit her teeth: “Have you gone mad?”

“Perhaps.”

Consort Shu had very little strength left. Her eyelids barely parted; her pale, bloodless lips quivered: “Jinhua…’s people… have found me…”

“I… return… return your bow… henceforth… you may… rest assured… cough… rest assured as your Empress Dowager…”

“I… am… tired…”

So tired.

She wanted to go home, back to the Zheng residence in Yangliu Alley, Anle District.

If she could return to that year’s Shangsi Festival, she would not have joined the revelry, would not have gone to watch the Hu Ji dance in the brocade tent.

Had she not watched that dance, she would not have encountered Sima Rui, and she would not have wasted so many absurd, ridiculous years of her life…

The moment she pressed the pillow over Emperor Zhaoning’s face, the first time she had ever killed someone with her own hands, Consort Shu felt no fear. Instead, there was an unprecedented sense of exhilaration.

She straddled his frail, emaciated body, pressing the brocade pillow with all her strength, watching him struggle to lift his hands, hearing the low, strangled roar like a trapped beast, her mind containing only one thought: it would soon be over.

Many years ago, he had set her on the path of this lifetime’s mistakes; now, she would personally end that mistake.

“Your Majesty, you truly are a pathetic creature.”

This time, she was the one humiliating him. She had disguised herself as Fang Shujing, and her beautiful eyes curved into a smile as she said: “Her heart has always belonged to another man, even bearing a child with him under your very eyes.”

This was perhaps the moment she most closely resembled Fang Shujing.

Even the cold, disdainful expression mirrored her exactly.

Emperor Zhaoning faltered, then flew into uncontrollable rage. He tried to move, but could not, his face flushing red as he cursed her: “You shameless woman!”

Consort Shu’s laughter grew even more carefree.

She laughed until tears fell: “Sima Rui, someone like you, how could you ever deserve true love?”

She had been blind and foolish to have once truly loved him.

Now, recalling it, she felt nothing but disgust.

Disgust so intense she no longer wanted to merely survive, only to end this absurd, ridiculous life as quickly as possible.

“Zheng Yuerong, how could you be so foolish!”

Consort Xian’s mournful voice came from her side. Consort Shu wanted to respond that this was the clearest, most correct choice of her life, but she was far too exhausted.

She had no strength left; she could barely keep her eyes open.

But it no longer mattered, nothing in this world was worth holding on to.

Outside, the sky had grown completely dark.

In the quiet Golden Hall, Consort Shu closed her eyes in Consort Xian’s arms.

—

That night, Consort Xian urgently summoned the Second Prince, the Chancellor, and several senior ministers to discuss the matter.

The emperor had been suffocated with a pillow by a favored consort. If this news spread, it would be a scandal of immense proportions.

After a night of deliberation until dawn, they decided to conceal the emperor’s death.

To the outside world, they announced only that the emperor was gravely ill. Two days later, they declared that Emperor Zhaoning had suddenly fallen ill and passed away.

Consort Shu of the Zheng clan, stricken with grief, slit her wrists in mourning and followed the late emperor in death.

With the emperor deceased, a new emperor was to ascend.

The Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace petitioned for abdication and, together with the ministers, supported the Second Prince, Sima Jin.

Sima Jin refused several times but ultimately accepted the imperial seal with tears in his eyes, ascending to the supreme position amid the ministers’ shouts of “Long live the Emperor!”

In late September, Sima Jin changed the era name from Yuanshou to Chunqing.

In October of Chunqing Year One, the former Crown Prince Sima Yu was granted the title of An Wang, moved out of the Eastern Palace, and given a residence in the Prince’s Mansion in Yongxing District.

The new emperor’s ascension was celebrated throughout the realm, and a general amnesty was declared.

Among the edicts, one was sent to the Ministry of Justice, granting a special pardon to Xie Wuling, involved in the rebellion case of Chang Wang.

The one who delivered the edict was the newly appointed Chancellor, Pei Xia.

The warden led the way with utmost respect, guiding the new dignitary to the prison: “Chancellor Pei, please watch your step, the floor is slippery.”

Xie Wuling’s skills were formidable. When he had been captured in the Taiji Hall, Emperor Zhaoning had specifically ordered that all rebellious generals with martial ability be imprisoned in the water cells.

The autumn chill penetrated, the water cells damp and cold. Day and night immersed in the filth, his hands and feet rotted and festered, rendering even the strongest martial arts useless.

When Pei Xia saw Xie Wuling in the dim, cold water cell, the man no longer had his former arrogant spirit.

He hung suspended, hair disheveled, half-dead, waist submerged in murky water.

Thick wrists bore deep, bloody marks; it was impossible to tell where rope ended and flesh began.

He still wore the red inner robe from the day of his capture.

Days of torture had left the robe tattered; under the torn cloth were ghastly wounds.

New wounds layered over old, deep wounds over shallow scars; barely a patch of uninjured flesh remained, he was in a pitiful, wretched state.

Pei Xia, in his crimson-purple official robe, stood in the bright light, looking at the lifeless man in the water cell, but felt no satisfaction.

He only felt relief.

Thankfully, Yuniang had not seen Xie Wuling in this state; otherwise, she would have been heartbroken and would have remembered him even more vividly.

Thinking of his wife, Pei Xia’s gaze softened.

With Xie Wuling no longer a disturbance, his days with Yuniang became peaceful and harmonious. Their marital affection, while not overflowing with sweetness, was warm and amicable.

Moreover, with the new emperor’s ascension, Pei Xia was promoted to Chancellor at just twenty-five years old, becoming a first-rank minister. This favor made him the most enviable and prominent figure in all of Chang’an.

The warden, trying to curry favor with the dignitary, saw Xie Wuling still half-conscious in the water and barked in a coarse voice: “Stop sleeping, wake up—”

After shouting twice with no response, he unfastened his whip from his waist and raised it to strike: “You b*stard, are you dead or not?”

Before the whip could be swung, his wrist was grabbed.

The warden froze and turned to meet a pair of icy, black eyes.

The gaze was so chilling it made his spine shiver. The warden stammered: “Ch… Chancellor Pei?”

“Out.”

Pei Xia released his hand, then drew a clean handkerchief from his sleeve and leisurely wiped his slender, long fingers.

Seeing this, the warden dared not linger: “Y-Yes, I will leave immediately.”

The water cell quickly returned to its previous stillness, like a pool of stagnant water.

Pei Xia, holding the imperial edict, stepped forward a few paces and looked down at the man in the water: “Xie Wuling.”

His voice was detached, neither hurried nor slow: “With the new emperor’s ascension, a general amnesty has been declared, and you are included. Once I finish reading this edict, you may leave.”

After a long pause, the man in the water reacted as if belatedly aware.

Water sloshed, iron chains clanked, and Xie Wuling slowly lifted his head.

As he moved, the hemp ropes around his wrists dug deeper into his flesh, the surrounding skin flushed red.

Yet he seemed not to feel pain. Lifting his eyelids, he looked toward the brightly lit figure.

Purple robe, golden belt, face like carved jade, truly a man of refinement, noble and unmatched.

“Purple robe…”

Xie Wuling tugged at the corner of his lips, his pale, gaunt face forming a lazy smirk: “Promoted again, huh.”

That smile immediately stirred a familiar resentment.

Pei Xia’s brow furrowed lightly, his tone indifferent: “Still able to smile at a time like this… seems your bones are even harder than I imagined.”

Xie Wuling tilted his head back lazily. Despite his body aching and numb, the curve of his mouth widened: “Naturally.”

“My only skill is sheer luck.” He laughed. “Don’t believe me? Let’s see who lasts longer.”

Pei Xia said: “If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anytime.”

“Then do it.”

Xie Wuling slanted his eyes, unconcerned: “That day in the palace, it wasn’t like you didn’t have the chance.”

“I said I promised Yuniang I’d spare your life.”

Pei Xia’s face remained expressionless: “I will not break my word to her.”

Hearing Shen Yujiao mentioned, a faint glimmer appeared in Xie Wuling’s narrowed eyes. But in the next moment, that softness vanished, replaced by his usual lazy, reckless demeanor. He stared directly at Pei Xia: “Is it that you truly don’t want to break your promise to her, or that you’re afraid if you kill me, she’ll think of me all her life?”

Pei Xia’s eyes darkened.

Xie Wuling laughed even more freely: “We’re all men, who doesn’t know whom?”

If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have killed Pei Xia either.

After all, the dead outweigh the living, no matter how the living compare, they can never surpass those who are gone.

Pei Xia did not argue. He unfurled the yellow silk edict and read it without emotion.

At the end, he folded the edict and looked at Xie Wuling, exiled to the northern lands: “From now on, you owe us nothing. We have no further connection.”

That “we” sounded grating to Xie Wuling. He sneered: “What does my entanglement with Jiaojiao have to do with you?”

Pei Xia’s long fingers twitched.

For a moment, he regretted not keeping the warden’s whip to beat some sense into Xie Wuling’s reckless mouth.

“My patience has limits.”

Pei Xia’s tone was cold: “Stay as far away as possible. If you set foot in Chang’an again, I will personally kill you.”

“Tch.”

Xie Wuling’s eyes slanted in amusement: “Too bad the water here is too murky. Otherwise, you should take a look at yourself. A perfect scholar from Hedong, yet privately such an ugly jealous man. If Jiaojiao saw your face now, do you think she’d still respect or love you?”

Pei Xia’s jaw tightened. He lowered his gaze and sneered: “Before mocking others, take a look at yourself.”

With that, he brushed the sleeve of his crimson-purple robe and turned to leave the dark, fetid water cell.

Above the cell was a courtyard sealed with interlaced iron grates.

If it rained, water would fall directly into the pool, saving the effort of changing it. As for whether prisoners caught a chill—

They were already soaking in the water; who cared.

When the guards came to help untie Xie Wuling, he lifted his head and looked at the bright moon beyond the grates.

Clear and luminous, with a faint bluish-white halo.

He stared at the segmented moon, lips cracked, murmuring: “I will not give up.”

Never.

Absolutely never.

Want to show your support? Go donate at Paypal or Ko-fi to show your appreciation! Want to read the REST OF THE BOOK in advance? Go to my Patreon to join now! :)