My Mother is the White Moonlight of a Tyrant - Chapter 49: Reality or Delusion?

Chapter 49: Reality or Delusion?

The night was too dark, with not a sliver of light to be seen. At this moment, not only were the characters on the notice illegible, but even the larger characters on the plaque—compared to mulberry paper—were difficult to distinguish.

A cold gaze swept over the scene, as calm and unruffled as ever. Quan Jie led his men forward once more.

Whether it was the patrol routes or the layout of the target residence, everything was within Quan Jie’s grasp. The former could be scouted at night by sending people to survey the area; as for the latter, a single visit to the property agent was sufficient.

The two large mansions had once been listed for sale. Even if the property agent had no drawings on hand, it was not difficult to sketch out the layout based on his verbal description.

After roughly the time it takes to drink two cups of tea, Quan Jie arrived in front of the mansion. As before, he chose the outer wall near a tree, first scaling the wall to enter the estate, then swiftly climbing up the tree.

After listening quietly for a moment and still hearing no footsteps nearby, Quan Jie was in no hurry to call his men in. He lay motionless in place, like a leopard lurking in the forest, waiting only for the most opportune moment to arrive.

Fifteen minutes passed, thirty minutes passed…

After an unknown length of time, until he had seen two teams of night watchmen pass by and move away, and after cautiously waiting another fifteen minutes, Quan Jie finally whistled like a bird.

The men outside the wall moved in unison at the sound.

As the Southern Tun Commander of the Dark Valiant Cavalry, Bai Jianping naturally possessed exceptional skills beyond his martial prowess and command abilities.

Perhaps due to growing up deep in the mountains and old forests, he was particularly sensitive to the sounds of various animals and could roughly discern the emotions in the calls of birds and beasts.

This was Bai Jianping’s own claim, which Mo Yanyun and the others only half-believed, sometimes even mocking him as a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse. Of course, this didn’t prevent him from being almost never wrong.

Bai Jianping had an exceptional alcohol tolerance, able to drink a thousand cups without falling. The man didn’t get drunk, but after drinking too much, he would wake up from sleep needing to relieve himself.

Scratching his head as he climbed out of bed, he muttered complaints about how having good alcohol tolerance could sometimes be uncomfortable. But as he stepped down from the bed, with no lamp lit in the room, he accidentally kicked the low cabinet beside the bed.

The kick struck his toes hard enough to sting.

Bai Jianping shuddered, immediately shaking off ninety percent of his sleepiness. Before he could even clutch his throbbing toes, he suddenly heard a bird whistle.

Bai Jianping stopped moving and turned to look out the window.

He hadn’t closed the window before sleeping, and now the night wind rushed in noisily, occasionally accompanied by one or two dull thunderclaps.

Rain was coming.

Birds return to their nests to shelter from the rain beforehand, but he had explored this estate earlier—everywhere was kept clean, with no bird nests under the eaves or on the windowsills.

Let alone that bird whistle just now…

Bai Jianping frowned, immediately grabbing the sword by his pillow and heading out with weapon in hand.

The estate was large with many buildings. Being accustomed to living alone, Bai Jianping had taken a separate room after entering the estate. The outer area should have been empty at this time, yet as soon as he reached the turning point from the inner chamber outward, he unexpectedly encountered several dark figures.

Caught completely unprepared, both sides were startled.

Who are you? Guards, assassins! Bai Jianping shouted. His voice boomed like a great bell, spreading far and wide instantly like an explosion.

The leader of the group stepped forward without a word, sword in hand.

Seeing this, the several black-clad figures around him flanked Bai Jianping from both sides in a pincer movement, simultaneously attacking with the young man at their center.

In the darkness, sharp blades stirred fierce winds, each move revealing deadly intent.

Alarms blared in his mind. Bai Jianping dared not divide his attention and fell silent, focusing entirely on the onslaught before him.

Clang—clang—

In the darkness, the clash of metal sent chills down one’s spine.

Outnumbered in the dead of night, his opponents moved with seamless coordination and were far more accustomed to the dark than he, who had just risen from bed. Bai Jianping was clearly at a disadvantage.

As pain shot through his arms and he distinctly felt thick, sticky fluid trickling down them, Bai Jianping cursed under his breath.

The situation was dire. If this continued, by the time reinforcements arrived, he would already be lifeless.

No—he had to change tactics.

Darkness enveloped everyone like a tide. As the fight pressed inward and Bai Jianping relied on his hearing to evade, even attempting to blend in among his assailants, the battle grew chaotic, friend and foe indistinguishable, reaching a stalemate.

Just then—

Fizz.

A sudden flare of light—the leader of the group had lit a candle in the room.

The flame was faint, but enough for those inside to discern their surroundings. Having risen in the middle of the night, Bai Jianping wore no outer robe, only thin white undergarments—a stark contrast to the uniform black of his opponents.

The black-clad men instantly rallied, advancing in unison once more.

Seeing his bloodied arms, Bai Jianping gasped sharply and, without hesitation, fought while retreating—from the inner doorway all the way to the bed. Beside the bed stood a low table with an open bottom shelf. Blocking a blade from the side with his own, he swiftly hooked the table with his long leg and swept it forcefully toward his opponents.

One of them immediately raised his sword and cleaved it apart.

The long table shattered into several pieces, scattering like fallen petals.

Seizing the brief opening, Bai Jianping dashed to a nearby small window, braced his hands on the sill, and vaulted out in one fluid motion.

Barefoot and with hair disheveled, Bai Jianping sprinted wildly.

Just as he was about to shout again, he spotted a crowd surging through the courtyard gate. Letting out a long breath, he couldn’t resist grumbling, You liquor-addled fools finally show up! Any later, and you might as well skip the rescue and collect my corpse.

Feng Feng laughed instantly. Don’t worry—troublemakers live a thousand years. You won’t die that easily.

As they charged toward the room, Bai Jianping shouted a warning, There are at least six of them, well-coordinated and highly skilled. Be careful.

Got it. No need to show off.

Bai Jianping’s lip twitched.

Inside the room.

The moment Bai Jianping leaped out the window, Quan Jie knew the mission had failed.

Why had the target been awake in the middle of the night after heavy drinking? Why did he, clad only in thin garments, have a blade at hand? Why had the initial assault failed?

None of that mattered now. The priority was to retreat.

Not so fast!

Feng Feng and Kuang Ye burst in just in time to see the assailants fleeing through another window. A ruthless glint flashed in Feng Feng’s eyes as he drew a dagger from his waist and hurled it.

The blade traced a gleaming arc through the air, embedding itself deep into the shoulder of a black-clad figure not far away.

The man jolted in pain, his movements faltering. In that moment of delay, Kuang Ye’s long sword arrived—amid a spray of blood, a round head was cleanly severed, sent flying.

A headless corpse crumpled to the floor.

Two black-clad intruders remained in the room, not yet escaped. One had just reached the window and was about to climb out when a small chair flew from behind—striking his head with uncanny precision.

With a loud bang, the man was struck dizzy.

Feng Feng swiftly moved in from the side, blocking the window.

Inside the room, it was several against two, with one of the men in black already injured. Soon, one was slain by Kuang Ye’s blade, while the other was captured alive.

Chief Fengtun, six were killed outside, but two escaped, reported a guard from outside.

Feng Feng’s brow twitched. Escaped? Two of them? Did you pursue them? They must be caught!

We did, the guard’s voice lowered, but it started raining—they’ll likely get away…

Boom—

After a clap of thunder, the initial light drizzle quickly intensified, turning into a downpour in moments.

The heavy rain could wash away and conceal many things—traces, and even the sound of footsteps.

Feng Feng frowned irritably. It’s over. If Lord finds out about this, we’re in for a scolding.

Not only had intruders slipped into the manor in the dead of night, Bai Jianping was injured, and two had managed to escape.

Kuang Ye asked, Were the two who fled injured?

During the fight, they moved too quickly, and the rain washed the blood off the blades. We can only confirm at least one was wounded. But… The guard hesitated for a moment. Both are highly skilled; even if injured, it wasn’t critical.

Truly over. Not only did they escape, but the two who got away are still in fighting shape. Feng Feng sighed gloomily, glancing at Kuang Ye beside him. They’ve been to Yun County—they won’t be foolish enough to stay together. They’re surely scattered, making it hard to find them quickly. How should we report this to Lord?

Kuang Ye immediately averted his gaze, kicking the bound captive to the ground: Where is your hideout?!

The man remained silent.

Hey, don’t kick him to death! The priority now is reporting… Ah, I see—Kuang Ye, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Deliberately changing the subject at a time like this! Fine, you handle explaining it to Lord.

Main courtyard, side room.

The side room was dimly lit; from a distance, it seemed the master had already retired for the night. But upon closer approach, faint noises could be heard from within.

The two plain bed curtains were drawn tightly shut without a gap. Wind seeped through the imperfectly closed window, occasionally lifting the curtains into wave-like arcs.

Yet no matter how the wind blew, it couldn’t part them enough to reveal a sliver.

Until…

A slender, pale calf slipped out from between the curtains. Once the knee slid to the edge of the bed, the leg, marked with faint red traces, bent naturally, the toes lightly tapping the footboard beside the bed.

Through the slight gap in the curtains, glimpses of dark and pale skin were visible.

The darker figure above almost rode the snowy white one below, the bed trembling slightly as rough, heavy breaths mingled with soft, muffled whimpers.

The pink-white toes curled slightly against the footboard, the heel just beginning to rub against the surface when a large, calloused hand emerged from the curtains, gripping the calf firmly.

Pale, soft flesh bulged slightly between his fingers. The hand stroked once with the thumb before pulling the leg back inside.

Suddenly, noises arose outside—as if someone was shouting loudly.

Qin Shaozong paused briefly, then buried his head again as if nothing had happened.

Dai Li didn’t hear the first sound, only the thunderclaps and the pattering of heavy rain. Uncertain whether it was an auditory illusion, she seemed to detect other noises mixed within the rain, like… someone shouting Lord from next door.

Someone seems to be talking outside, Dai Li murmured. Her voice was soft and cottony, carrying a subtle laziness and slight hoarseness, like peony leaves wrinkled by dew.

Lord! The adjacent room not only shouted but also knocked on the door.

Dai Li shuddered, instantly snapping out of her daze.

Qin Shaozong lifted his head from that plump softness, the blue veins on his neck bulging and fading. Madam, relax a little.

Dai Li ignored him, staring nervously beyond the bed curtains.

Qin Shaozong reached out to pinch her delicate chin, turning her face back to him, and kissed those crimson lips while suddenly quickening his movements.

Lord.

Kuang Ye stood under the eaves of the main house, raising his hand to knock again. The heavy rain blurred other sounds, preventing him from hearing any movement inside.

How strange, Kuang Ye thought.

The Lord wasn’t the type to sleep through chaos outside – he’d knocked three times and called out several times, yet the Lord hadn’t responded.

Could it be that the Lord wasn’t in his room?

Just as this thought emerged, he heard the creaking sound of a door opening from the side.

Kuang Ye’s first reaction was that he had accidentally disturbed Madam Dai. Turning to apologize, he instead saw a towering figure emerge from the side chamber.

It was precisely the person he sought.

Kuang Ye blinked his gentle puppy-dog eyes, all emotions perfectly concealed, presenting the image of an honest man who knew nothing.

Lord, there are assassins in the mansion…

In Guoyun County Town.

After shaking off their pursuers, Quan Jie and his sole remaining companion didn’t immediately return to the Courier Station, instead taking shelter from the rain under some eaves.

This mission has failed – how do we explain it to our benefactor? one asked.

Quan Jie replied indifferently: Tell the truth.The other man sneered coldly, Fine, you report it then. After all, you’re the benefactor’s adopted son. Others must succeed or die, but you’ll get off lightly. You’re most suitable for delivering this message.

Quan Jie said tonelessly: You asked me to stay just to say this?

The man retorted: Why not?

Quan Jie walked directly into the rain, his figure soon disappearing.

The man remained behind, grinding his teeth: So arrogant. Does he really think the benefactor sees him as a son?

Quan Jie returned silently to the Courier Station, removed his wet clothes, changed back into his daytime garments, and mechanically lay down on the bed to rest with closed eyes.

The next day, the sky cleared after rain.

The Courier Station’s courtyard contained two trees. After last night’s heavy storm, the ground was carpeted with fallen leaves.

Besides leaves, the yard held various wind-blown debris – someone’s unknown underpants and undergarments, wild flower petals, and… mulberry bark paper blown beneath the corridor.

A young servant muttered to himself while cleaning the courtyard: Last night’s rain was tremendous, one might think the sky had cracked. Now there’s plenty to do – hope I can finish within two hours. Whose pants blew here? Tsk, with four large holes – how long have these been worn?

He chattered incessantly while working, until all fallen leaves were swept into bamboo baskets and torn clothing separately sorted. The broom-wielding servant turned, preparing to finish up.

Eh? Why is there still something here? The servant stared at the mulberry bark paper not far away.

Unlike the other garments lying completely in the courtyard, this mulberry bark paper was half in the corridor and half outside.

The exposed portion had been soaked in water for a long time, causing the ink stains on the paper to become blurred. The part sheltered under the corridor had also been dampened by raindrops, though it had dried again in the wind.

It was just a torn piece of paper, and the young servant was about to sweep it away with a broom when a casual glance made him pause with a soft exclamation.

The servant came from a poor family and had no opportunity to study. The characters he knew were all self-taught in his spare time—only a handful, scattered and few.

The characters for reward and money happened to be among them.

Reward money? There’s reward money to be had? The servant’s eyes lit up, but looking further down, he couldn’t understand the rest of the content.

Growing anxious, the servant hurriedly picked up the mulberry bark paper, only to find…

The water-soaked paper had split in two. The part lying in the courtyard remained unmoving, while only the section that had taken refuge under the corridor ended up in the servant’s hand.

Oh no, how did it tear? the servant lamented. But after glancing at the half on the ground, now illegible, he no longer felt regret. Never mind, the words on that part are too blurred to read anyway.

Holding the half sheet of mulberry bark paper, he returned to the main hall and called for the innkeeper, who was also his distant uncle. Uncle Ping, I just saw what looked like the words ‘reward money’ on this. Could you take a look and tell me what exactly is written here?

Reward money—perhaps he had a chance to claim it.

Go tell the kitchen to add an egg to the soup noodles for the guest who was here earlier, the innkeeper instructed as he took the paper.

The servant hurried off to comply. When he returned, he found the innkeeper with a grave expression. Uncle Ping, what does the paper say?

The innkeeper replied, This is a notice offering a heavy reward for finding someone—a nine-year-old child with short hair. The child’s name is Qin Yan… Chuan? No, it doesn’t seem to be ‘Chuan.’ It’s ‘Zhou.’ Ah, yes, it’s ‘Zhou.’ Though the ink has bled, it’s clearly ‘Zhou.’ The child’s name is Qin Yanzhou.

A sharp scraping sound followed by the crash of a bench overturning echoed through the hall.

Both the innkeeper and the servant started, looking up simultaneously to see a lone figure standing in the hall, staring rigidly in their direction.

Meeting that fearsome face, marred by what looked like proliferating scars, the servant turned pale with fright and whispered, Uncle Ping, that person’s face is truly terrifying, and his eyes are so strange.

The servant remembered this guest vividly because his face was exceedingly ugly—the old, entrenched scars resembled flesh worms, sprawling across his features.

Earlier, when attending to him, the servant hadn’t dared look too closely, afraid of having nightmares. Now, this demon-like person was staring at him. Could he have overheard the servant’s earlier muttered comments…?

The flesh-like scars twitched, and the servant trembled with fear. However, as if unaccustomed to making large facial expressions, the man’s initial shock gradually subsided, layer by layer, into calm.

His eyes remained wooden, like an endless void, yet strangely, they gave the impression of something struggling to stir and emerge.

The servant watched as the man strode quickly toward them and silently raised a hand.

He clearly intended to take the mulberry bark paper from the innkeeper’s grasp, but just as his fingertips were about to touch it, he snatched them back as if his hand had been struck.

Quan Jie stood frozen in place, his gaze vacant.

Was this a dream?

Would it be like the thousands of times before—all false, nothing but delusions born from years of struggling in the mire? A pitiful fantasy, an unattainable illusion, and finally, the delusion emerging just before he went completely mad.

Author’s note: Please give me nutrient solution [shy]