CHAPTER TWO — SHE COULD NOT HELP BUT BE SHOCKED
Tang Ke Xin paused on the threshold, breath catching as the cool night air washed over her fever‑scorched skin. The world beyond the doorway unfolded like a painting—vast, ancient, and impossibly serene. Lanterns glowed along carved wooden eaves, their warm light spilling across stone courtyards and whispering pines. The temple complex stretched out beneath the moonlight, solemn and breathtaking, as though untouched by time.
A monastery?
How in the world did I end up here?
She turned back toward the room she had just escaped. The memory of the man inside—his icy aura, his murderous intent—sent a shudder rippling down her spine. She dared not linger. Gathering what remained of her composure, she hurried away, her steps light but unsteady, as though the ground itself might shift beneath her.
She had barely rounded a corner when a figure darted into her path.
"Miss! Miss, where have you been? Dong'er has been frightened half to death!"
The girl's voice trembled with relief. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched Tang Ke Xin's sleeves with desperate hands. "Miss, we finally found you!"
Tang Ke Xin blinked. She had no idea how long she had wandered, nor how far. But the girl's presence—earnest, loyal, familiar—was a small anchor in a world that had abruptly tilted off its axis.
"Let us return first," Tang Ke Xin said quietly.
Dong'er froze.
Her young mistress had spoken with clarity—calm, composed, nothing like the foolish girl she had served for years. But she asked no questions. She simply nodded and guided Tang Ke Xin back to her chamber.
---
Inside, Tang Ke Xin took in the furnishings—the lacquered table, the embroidered curtains, the archaic garments draped over her own body. A faint scent of incense lingered in the air. A strange heaviness settled in her chest.
Something was terribly wrong.
Then the memories came—fragmented at first, then gathering with startling force. Memories that were not hers. Memories of a girl with her face, her name, but none of her mind.
A fool.
A simpleton.
A pitiable young lady whose reputation was little better than a joke whispered behind fans.
Tang Ke Xin pressed a hand to her temple as the truth crystallised.
I've transmigrated.
She, a top‑level military physician, a psychologist trained in covert operations, had somehow awakened in the body of a girl known for her idiocy.
How utterly intoxicating—and utterly disastrous.
Her thoughts snapped back to the man from the night before. If this was not the modern world but an ancient one, then what manner of man possessed such a chilling aura? Such killing intent? Such power?
Earlier, she had boldly declared that he would never find her. But that had been before she understood the rules of this world. Here, a man of his calibre would be untouchable—commanding influence, authority, and fear.
And she—a foolish young miss—had offended him.
A cold dread crept down her spine.
Before dawn, he might very well have me skinned alive.
---
"Miss, what happened to you? Why are you in such a state?" Dong'er cried, voice cracking as she took in Tang Ke Xin's dishevelled hair and pallid face. Tears pattered onto the floor like falling beads.
Tang Ke Xin raised a hand, weary and overwhelmed.
"Enough. Go to sleep. Do not ask anything. Do not say anything. I need quiet."
Even she, with all her training, needed a moment to breathe—to think—to accept the impossible.
Dong'er stared, wide‑eyed. Her mistress had never spoken with such authority, such clarity. But she obeyed, retreating silently though confusion clouded her gaze.
---
Left alone, Tang Ke Xin washed as best she could with the limited means of the temple. Her shoulder throbbed sharply when she touched it. The man's bite—fierce and deep—had broken the skin. Blood still seeped faintly.
She grimaced.
At least it was a human bite. No need for a rabies vaccine.
She cleaned the wound with clinical efficiency, though the tools were primitive. There was nothing more she could do.
If she attempted to flee now, she would only draw suspicion. Even a fool would be questioned. But if she remained still—if she behaved as the original Tang Ke Xin would—no one would think to look at her twice.
Ironically, her foolish predecessor had given her the perfect disguise.
She exhaled slowly.
Very well. I shall adapt. Observe. Survive.
Exhaustion finally claimed her, and she drifted into a restless sleep.
---
"Miss, wake up! The Crown Prince has ordered everyone to gather in the meditation hall. Grandmaster Hui Yuan's lecture is about to begin!"
Dong'er shook her gently, anxiety etched across her face. Dawn light filtered through the window, pale and cold.
Tang Ke Xin rose, dressed, and followed her maid. As they stepped into the courtyard, several young ladies passed by, whispering behind their sleeves, their eyes filled with ridicule.
She ignored them.
But the moment she entered the meditation hall, she sensed something amiss. The air was heavy—solemn. A large object lay in the centre of the hall, draped in cloth.
A corpse.
A chill swept through her.
"Is everyone present?" a deep voice asked.
The hall fell silent at once. The Crown Prince sat at the centre, his presence commanding and severe.
"All present, Your Highness," a guard replied.
"Good."
The Crown Prince's gaze swept the hall. "Last night, Sir Lin, who resided in the second room on the east wing's upper floor, died under mysterious circumstances. Before Grandmaster Hui Yuan begins his lecture, this matter must be thoroughly investigated."
Tang Ke Xin's heart lurched.
The second room on the second floor… the very room I arrived in.
She had fallen through a hidden mechanism into the room below. The man she encountered had been on the first floor.
But the man upstairs—Sir Lin—was dead.
She did not know who the man from last night truly was, nor dared she investigate. His fury alone had been enough to chill her blood. If he had set a trap, she might already be caught in it.
This gathering—this investigation—felt far too pointed to be coincidence.
Her gaze swept the hall.
He is here.
She could feel it.
Watching.
Waiting.
The man from last night was far more dangerous than she had imagined.
She had provoked someone she should never have crossed.
And now, even someone as composed as she could not help but feel a tremor of fear.