My Mother is the White Moonlight of a Tyrant - Chapter 42: Her Despair

Chapter 42: Her Despair

After a few breaths, the woman on the bed sat up clutching the quilt. Dai Li didn’t turn to look at the man beside her. With downcast eyes fixed on the brocade patterns of the quilt, her voice whispered like the wind, Can we really find him?

Not just one or two years, nor merely three or four—but an entire decade had passed.

As an adult with some professional knowledge of ancient times, she was barely managing here. How much more difficult would it be for a child under ten?

In third grade, he hadn’t yet begun the science subjects taught in middle school. Zhou Zhou knew nothing—how could he survive in this feudal era that devoured people?

Moreover, during a recent casual conversation with Nalan Zhi, Dai Li inadvertently learned that nine years ago, a great famine had swept through various regions.

Unlike modern industrialized agriculture, ancient times lacked machinery and chemically synthesized compound fertilizers, making grain production extremely limited.

Back then, not only did they face a once-in-a-century drought, but also a locust plague. The impact was massive, affecting not just the Northern Territory but even areas like Yangzhou in the southeast.

Corpses littered the fields, cries of hunger and cold filled the air, bandits ran rampant everywhere, and grain prices skyrocketed. Commoners could only swallow tree bark and grass bundles, resorting to exchanging children to eat, with families torn apart.

When Dai Li had previously organized books and encountered the Lament of the Human Dish with its lines First sever both arms to hang in the butcher’s shop, then slowly cut thigh meat to make soup, she had felt that the phrase Great famine, people eat each other was a curse. But after all, that was history—flat descriptions in black and white—a tragedy that would never repeat in modern times. So besides discomfort, she hadn’t felt particularly affected then.

Yet now, imagining her little one possibly being butchered and cooked while crying during that famine, cold dread rose from Dai Li’s heart. Her chest throbbed with pain, making her unconsciously curl up, shrinking into a ball.

She couldn’t help but envision the scene: amid the child’s desperate cries and screams for his mother, that gleaming knife suddenly falling.

Then skin and flesh being sliced open, crimson blood gushing like a spring, pale white bones exposed.

Pieces of tender meat dropping into the pot, while a crowd of faceless eaters cheered wildly, each holding bowls and spoons, scrambling to devour the steaming human flesh stew.

Hu Bao hadn’t just brought news—he’d brought an ice serpent too. The serpent burrowed deep into Dai Li’s heart, gnawing at her flesh and blood with sharp, serrated teeth.

The chill surged from her core, and Dai Li began trembling uncontrollably.

Suddenly, the brocade quilt beside her was swept up and draped over her shoulders, wrapping her tightly from the neck down.

Through the quilt, a large, dark hand covered hers resting on her knees. As long as you don’t lose hope, there will always be a chance.

Spring was nearing its end, summer approaching. The quilt wasn’t as thick as before, and the warmth from his palm continuously seeped through the thin fabric.

Dai Li remained bowed, like a ceramic doll drained of all spirit—neither responding nor reacting.

Just then, Nian Xia and Bi Po returned.

Nian Xia showed no surprise at Qin Shaozong’s presence in the room. The two women curtsied before Nian Xia said respectfully, Madam, the medicine is ready. Please drink it while it’s hot.

Dai Li remained wrapped in the quilt, unmoving.

Give it to me, Qin Shaozong reached toward Nian Xia.

But just as the medicine bowl was about to reach his hands, Dai Li whispered, I’ll drink it myself.

Qin Shaozong paused briefly before taking the bowl from Nian Xia. The medicine had just finished brewing—a time-consuming process—but considering it shouldn’t be scalding hot when consumed, Bi Po had thoughtfully cooled it with warm water earlier. Now it was at a suitable temperature.

As the bowl passed hands, Qin Shaozong confirmed its warmth was appropriate and commanded, Not a drop left.

A hand emerged from the cocoon-like quilt, and under the gaze of the three, Dai Li silently drank the medicine until the bowl was empty.

She couldn’t taste anything—all the bitterness had gathered in her heart, leaving no room to distinguish other flavors.

After finishing, Dai Li returned the bowl but kept her head lowered, avoiding eye contact as she mumbled hoarsely, I wish to rest.

Seated to the side, Qin Shaozong could only see her ink-black hair cascading down, obscuring part of her profile. The crimson at the corners of her eyes was deeper than usual, and a faint glimmer of unshed tears was visible in their rims.

Having spoken, Dai Li wrapped herself in the quilt, lay down, and curled onto her side, turning her back to them.

After watching her quietly for a moment, Qin Shaozong stood and instructed the two maids, Take good care of your mistress.

The medicine likely contained sedative herbs, for not long after lying down, Dai Li’s mind began to drift. Faintly, she heard Qin Shaozong’s voice and the maids’ responses.

Then, she sank into a dream.

A dream—an endless nightmare, devoid of memory or any semblance of logic.

In the dream, nine suns blazed in the sky. Their fiery rays scorched the earth, raising the ground temperature so high that the air density shifted abruptly, distorting the view as if the road ahead undulated with layers of heatwaves.

The land grew increasingly arid, rivers drying up in the swelter. Crops in fertile fields withered entirely, and even the hardiest roadside weeds took on a lifeless, waxy yellow hue. Dai Li didn’t know where this was; in the dream, she endured the sun’s blistering heat, pressing forward with one goal: to find the District School where her son studied.

Suddenly, a small village appeared ahead, dotted with triangular thatched huts, one of which had a crooked-neck tree beside it. Dai Li felt a surge of relief, thinking she’d finally found shade to rest under before asking for directions to the District School to pick up her son after class.

The crooked-neck tree stood directly in front of the hut. As Dai Li reached its shade, she noticed the hut’s door wide open, and within her line of sight, not a soul was inside.

Who could be so careless, leaving without locking the door?

Dai Li closed the door for them, but upon turning, she saw other nearby huts similarly left ajar in silence. Drawn to investigate, she approached another hut only to find it identical to the first—also empty.

Suspicion rising, Dai Li scanned the surrounding huts and checked each one.

Of ten huts, nine were utterly vacant.

A hot wind swept through, carrying yellow dust and dried leaves that brushed against her clothes and shoes. But Dai Li had no mind to brush the dead leaves from her skirt, for in the wind, she finally heard a sound.

The deathly silent village held a human voice other than her own.

The suns in the sky grew fiercer, as if determined to evaporate every drop of moisture from the earth. Dai Li trudged across the cracked yellow soil, following the sound. After a long walk, her throat nearly parched, she finally spotted a figure.

It was a plainly dressed woman, facing sideways to Dai Li, moving slowly toward a hut ahead of her.

The hot wind continued to blow, lifting a long tubular piece of cloth stained with large patches of red, as if a mischievous child had accidentally overturned a palette.

Dàláng, I’m back, the woman said.

A gaunt, emaciated man emerged from the house and asked her, Well? How much did you sell it for?

A full three thousand wen, the woman raised one hand, revealing a worn red-and-white patchwork bag that faintly outlined the shapes of copper coins inside. The butcher, seeing I sold a whole piece, said it was a new customer discount and gave me a small piece of meat. I heard it was a child who got separated from his mother by accident—tender-skinned and smooth, with hardly any sweat or blemishes. Dàláng, let’s go inside and eat quickly.

Dai Li couldn’t understand what they were saying.

Why were they talking about the butcher giving a small piece of meat one moment, and then suddenly about a child separated from his mother?

Little sister, what brings you here? the woman suddenly turned around.

Dai Li clearly didn’t know her, but when the woman looked at her, she felt an inexplicable urge to play along. I happened to be passing by…

Her words trailed off abruptly.

She stared in horror at the woman’s left sleeve—it was empty, and the hot wind easily lifted it. Blood continued to seep from the area near her shoulder blade, spreading into a glaring, vivid red.

Yet the woman seemed to feel no pain. With a face as pale as gold paper, she stepped forward, her cracked skin breaking into a smile. Little sister, you’ve come at the right time. We have meat at home today. Come, be our guest. I’ll treat you to good dishes and fine meat.

Just as Dai Li was about to politely decline, the woman grabbed her wrist.

Her grip was astonishingly strong, completely unlike that of an injured person. Unable to break free, Dai Li was dragged into the thatched hut.

The house was old, the floor covered in a layer of yellowish dust. A table with a broken leg was propped up with rubble. The man took the bag and went to the kitchen at the back, leaving the two of them alone in the narrow hall.

The woman didn’t make small talk but kept smiling at her—a perfectly identical smile, as if programmed, sending chills down Dai Li’s spine. Just as she was thinking of an excuse to leave, the man who had just gone to the kitchen returned.

He held a chipped ceramic plate in one hand. Little sister, come have lunch.

He placed the plate on the table. One dish held a few pieces of tree bark, while the other contained a pallid piece of meat with an incomplete brown pattern along the edge.

Come, little sister, try it. It’s the freshest from a young one, taken while he was still alive, the woman said, as if activated by a program, eagerly urging Dai Li to eat.

Dai Li didn’t move. She stared fixedly at the pattern on the meat that looked strikingly like a birthmark.

Though incomplete, it felt eerily familiar.

The gears in her mind slowly turned as the woman spoke.

A child separated from his mother by accident, the freshest young one, taking meat, Zhou Zhou…

That child was so full of life. He kept crying for his mother and threatening to report us to the authorities even after several cuts. Hahaha, how hilarious! Who would come to save him? No one can save him!

The pallid meat suddenly oozed thick blood, which streamed incessantly across the slightly slanted table toward Dai Li, forming a mirror of blood on the surface. In the reflection, a familiar small figure was pinned down by two burly men, one of them holding a butcher’s knife.

The blade fell, blood splattering.

A child weeping and wailing shed two trails of bloody tears from their eyes.

No, Zhou Zhou!!

A Golden Crow plummeted from the sky, and blazing flames erupted across the land. The crooked-neck tree was reduced to ashes, thatched huts were set ablaze one after another, and flames surrounded Dai Li. Ferocious tongues of fire leaped onto her, voraciously devouring her flesh and blood.

*

Qin Shaozong was awakened by the commotion outside—first, hushed whispers, then the sound of footsteps rushing away.

The man on the bed opened his eyes. In mere moments, his brown pupils regained their usual clarity, as if recalling something urgent. Qin Shaozong rose from the bed, threw on his robe, and strode out.

The main chamber and the side chamber shared the same courtyard, its layout largely similar to the guest quarters of the former Jiang Mansion. After leaving the main chamber, Qin Shaozong walked a short distance and arrived at the side chamber where Dai Li resided.

In what should have been a silent, still night, this side chamber was brightly lit.

Qin Shaozong stepped inside, passing through the hanging strands of rounded beads, and saw the short maid kneeling on the footrest before the bed.

Bi Po, you’ve finally…

Nian Xia had thought it was Bi Po returning, but when she turned and saw who had entered, her face paled in shock. My Lord, did I… did I disturb you?

Qin Shaozong ignored her question and approached directly. As he drew nearer, he could clearly see the condition of the woman on the bed.

She lay curled on her side, her cheeks flushed a burning red, even the delicate shells of her ears glowing crimson. Yet this unnatural hue did not reach her lips—usually vibrant and red, they were now covered in a lifeless pallor.

Ashen, parched, like peony petals long deprived of water, on the verge of withering.

The Lady has a high fever and is trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake. I’ve already sent Bi Po to fetch Mr. Ding, Nian Xia explained, holding a damp silk handkerchief.

No, Zhou Zhou… Dai Li’s heart-wrenching cries in her dream were, in reality, only faint murmurs now.

But in the deep silence of the night, both figures beside the bed heard them clearly.

Qin Shaozong said, Give me the handkerchief.

Nian Xia hurriedly handed over the freshly changed handkerchief with both hands and stepped back from the footrest.

Qin Shaozong sat by the bed, folded the handkerchief, and placed it on Dai Li’s forehead. As his fingertips brushed her skin, an almost scalding heat immediately transferred to him.

The man’s long brows furrowed. He checked the pulse at the side of her neck—the skin there was equally feverish, as if a burning furnace lay beneath. Drawing closer, Qin Shaozong noticed Dai Li was trembling uncontrollably.

High fever accompanied by chills—such symptoms often came with icy hands and feet. Qin Shaozong lifted the quilt slightly and reached inside, grasping her tightly clenched fist.

Sure enough, it was freezing cold, like a block of ice.

She was gripping with immense force, the veins on the back of her hand standing out like jade-green trails, her knuckles strained to a pale white from the pressure.

Qin Shaozong’s long fingers slid beneath hers, forcefully prying open her palm. As expected, a row of deep crescent marks indented her palm, red as if blood might seep through at any moment.

Unable to claw at her own palm, Dai Li’s nails dug into the back of Qin Shaozong’s fingers, again leaving a series of crescent imprints with equal force.

Don’t grab him, don’t cut his flesh… Her eyelashes trembled violently, tears welling between them, dampening the strands and making them more prominent. Then, like broken strings of pearls, they rapidly fell.

Tears dropped onto the embroidered pillow, blossoming into tiny splashes of water.

The insignificant water stain paled in comparison to a downpour from the heavens, let alone the splashing waves of rivers and lakes, yet Qin Shaozong gazed at it for a long while. He raised his other hand to brush past the flushed corner of her eye, wiping away the overflowing tear. Dreams cannot be taken as truth. No one would dare capture him.

Lost in the nightmare, she remained unaware, still immersed in her own world. She had cried so intensely that her eye rims were red, the tip of her nose was red, and when she sobbed, her neck instinctively curved inward. That pale section of her neck resembled a fragile bow, as if tightening it slightly more would cause it to snap.

The silk cloth draped sideways on Dai Li’s forehead slipped off.

Qin Shaozong picked up the silk cloth and noticed its inner layer had been warmed, causing the outer side to no longer feel cool.

Change it.

Nian Xia, who had been standing by on standby, hurriedly passed over another silk cloth.

The freshly soaked cloth was chillingly cold. The moment it touched her feverish forehead, Dai Li shuddered violently. Ice and fire clashed once more, and the already fractured dream shattered completely. She finally broke free from the hopeless nightmare.

Just awakened, the boundary between dream and reality seemed blurred, making it hard to distinguish illusion from truth, the unreal from the tangible. Dai Li stared blankly at the man before her, showing no reaction.

A teardrop hung precariously from her long lashes, suspended motionless as she emerged from the dream. The candlelight reflected in it, transforming the tear into a delicate mirror that clearly mirrored his figure.

The long finger that had earlier wiped her tears slowly curled, hiding the rough, calloused fingertip within his palm. The relatively smoother back of his finger gently touched her long lashes, catching that glistening teardrop.

Feeling an unusual sensation on her eye, Dai Li instinctively blinked, her damp lashes sweeping down and lightly brushing against his dark-toned skin.

Qin Shaozong withdrew his hand, his eyes pooling with a terrifying depth, yet his voice remained steady and reassuring. The name ‘Qin Yanzhou’ will spread across every region. As long as your son is alive, he will surely learn that you are searching for him.

———————–

Author’s Note: Everyone keeps asking when—Deng Deng can only say: Spoilers aren’t friendly qaq

Eagerly requesting nutrient solution [green heart]