Chapter 15: Unable to Write

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He watched the entrance to the dark room warily, contemplating the plan this time. He was assigned by his master to keep an eye on the Meng family in Hanmo Town. Half a month ago, his master sent word that a girl was to be born in the Meng family, and his mission was to ensure that the newborn would die on the day of her birth.

Everything had been meticulously planned. Based on the timing initiated by the Seventh Young Madam, the child was expected to be born during the early morning hours, and certainly would nurse before noon. The poison he administered to the wet nurse was carefully measured and timed so that its onset would be sudden and fatal, leaving no chance for cries of help. When the Meng girl succumbed to the poison, the wet nurse, whom he had bribed, would already be dead in her room—no witnesses, no evidence linking back to him.

But fate had other plans. The Meng girl refused to nurse on time and fussed about not wanting milk. Meanwhile, the poison in the wet nurse’s body began to take effect prematurely. The Meng family quickly summoned the Qingyun Inn, clearly because the wet nurse had named her assailant before dying.

This was the first mission his master had entrusted to him in over ten years—and it had failed utterly. Years of careful plotting were undone in an instant. Fortunately, his master’s arrangements were thorough; he was escorted straight to Changlan City, sparing his life. Here, he should have been safe, yet a sudden unease gnawed at him, as if some ill fate was about to unfold.

Pacing back and forth, he tripped over his own foot, lost his balance, and lunged forward with great force. His forehead smashed hard against the corner of a table, blood gushing profusely. Before he could even cry out for help, he collapsed unconscious.

As he slipped into darkness, confusion filled his mind. How had he been so unlucky to meet such a fate? He prayed someone would find him soon; otherwise, death was inevitable. And to die like this—so humiliating—it was unbearable.

The dark room had excellent soundproofing; no noise from outside could be heard. Those who had rescued him were out investigating the Meng family in Hanmo Town, leaving only one guard to watch the courtyard, who would never enter to check on him.

The poison he had given the wet nurse was designed to act swiftly, leaving no chance to call for help. Though he himself was not poisoned, he too had no opportunity to cry out—karma had come full circle.

There was no denying it: he had been marked in the Moonlight’s Fate Ledger. He had thought such a thing impossible.

By the time someone discovered him, his body was already stiff.

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The bloodstains on the table corner and the gaping wound on his forehead left those who found him in disbelief. Had he committed suicide out of shame for failing his mission? There was no other explanation for such injuries—this was a soundproof dark room with a guard posted outside; murder was impossible. Besides, who would go to such lengths to kill someone here?

If he had injured himself this severely, it must have been with all his strength, deliberately seeking death. Only suicide made sense, though they were puzzled since their master had no wish to see him dead. Still, they hastened to report the incident.

Thus, the manager who had harmed Moonlight died in a bewildering manner.

After writing a long series of words, Moonlight was surprised to find her spiritual energy still abundant. Despite writing so much, she felt no fatigue.

Five hours of cultivation had granted her such a reservoir of spiritual power? She was both surprised and delighted, realizing she would no longer have to worry about running out of spiritual energy. She eagerly anticipated how far she could advance before turning five years old.

Though she was now fairly certain this world was a mundane one, the fact that she could cultivate spiritual energy meant her ability to protect herself was greatly enhanced. After all, no cultivators resided here, making it much safer.

Thinking of the emperor who had plotted against the Meng family, she wished to inscribe his name into the Ledger of Fate as well, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not write even a single character of his name.

Moonlight sighed; indeed, he was a person blessed with dragon fortune, beyond the reach of her little book’s punishments.

But wait—she had once inscribed powerful cultivators from great sects, those who wielded immense fortune and made even the mortal emperor bow down. Why then could she not mark this emperor? Was it not a matter of fortune, but rather that her spiritual energy was still too weak?

She decided to try again once her spiritual power increased.

Since she still had energy to spare, she planned to boost the fortune of her father, mother, and grandfathers. Today, in the ancestral hall, she had memorized all their names.

At that moment, her father’s footsteps sounded outside the door. Moonlight quickly put away the little Ledger of Fate, thinking to write again after her parents had gone to sleep.

Meng Wenxuan entered softly, careful not to wake the mother and daughter, but when he reached the bedside, his gaze met those big eyes of his daughter.

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Meng Wenxuan paused, then blinked to confirm his daughter was indeed awake. It seemed she had been awake for a while, quietly playing without making a sound. How obedient she was.

Moonlight gave her father a toothless smile.

Meng Wenxuan’s heart melted; such a sweet and lovely daughter, and yet someone wished her harm.

Glancing at his still-sleeping wife, Meng Wenxuan gestured for silence, then gently lifted his daughter into his arms and quietly left the bedroom.

Softly, he said, “Little Moonbud, we mustn’t disturb your mother. She carried you for ten long months and needs plenty of rest to recover. Daddy will keep you company, alright?”

Zhang Ma was startled to see the Seventh Young Master holding the little Moonlight, who was loosely wrapped in a blanket with tiny hands and feet exposed.

“Oh, my lord! The young mistress is so little—holding her like this will chill her.”

Meng Wenxuan immediately tugged the blanket left and right, wrapping his daughter more snugly.

“Is this better?” he asked Zhang Ma.

Zhang Ma, seeing only Moonlight’s small face peeking out, recalled how she disliked being tightly swaddled and nodded. “Better, but she shouldn’t be carried outside.”

She thought to herself that since the young mistress was only wearing a little belly pouch and disliked tight swaddling, she would need to make some small clothes for her soon, or the child would surely fall ill. The blanket needed attention too—loosely wrapped like this, cold drafts would seep in.

She sent Qing Guo to fetch some warmed rice and oil, then said to Meng Wenxuan, “Seventh Young Master, give the young mistress to me. She probably needs to urinate.”

Moonlight, who hadn’t felt the urge before, suddenly felt she couldn’t hold it any longer upon hearing Zhang Ma’s words. She kicked her little legs, not wanting her father to deal with such an awkward task.

Meng Wenxuan hurriedly handed his daughter over; he really wasn’t up to this matter.

After Moonlight shyly finished and returned, Qing Guo brought her meal.

Meng Wenxuan quickly said, “I’ll feed Moonbud.”

Though Zhang Ma was concerned, she still placed the young mistress in Meng Wenxuan’s arms.