CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — SPEAKING WITH STRENGTH
Tang Ke Xin stood beneath the young trees in a simple white dress, the fabric fluttering lightly in the breeze. In that moment she looked almost ethereal—like a fairy who had stepped out of a painting. Every movement she made carried a quiet, natural grace, as though she had been carved by the hand of nature itself.
Her beauty had always been there, but hidden beneath foolishness and ridicule. Now, with her expression calm and focused, she possessed a quiet allure that was impossible to ignore.
Mu Shaoyi had never truly looked at her before. He had despised her, avoided her, dismissed her as an embarrassment. Yet now, as he watched her from the courtyard entrance, something deep within him shifted—an unfamiliar tremor he could neither name nor control.
"Miss, Young Master Mu insisted on entering. I could not stop him."
The housekeeper's voice was uneasy. In truth, he could have stopped Mu Shaoyi, but he had hesitated, uncertain of the young lady's intentions. He had assumed she wished to attract Mu Shaoyi's attention.
Tang Ke Xin did not even turn her head.
"The dignified Prime Minister's estate cannot stop an outsider?"
Her tone was calm, almost indifferent, yet it carried a quiet authority that made the air itself still.
She was not scolding the housekeeper—she was making her position unmistakably clear.
She had no desire to "capture" Mu Shaoyi.
She had no desire to see him at all.
The housekeeper froze. Only now did he truly understand: the young lady genuinely did not wish to meet Young Master Mu.
Mu Shaoyi understood it too.
And the realisation struck him like a blow.
Outsiders?
Had he become irrelevant to her?
He swallowed the strange discomfort rising in his chest and forced himself to focus.
"Tang Ke Xin, I'm here for the antidote."
Three days had passed. Liu Ruyue's face had grown darker and more grotesque with each sunrise. No matter what they tried—her uncle's remedies, the imperial physician's prescriptions—nothing worked.
He had never imagined Tang Ke Xin capable of wielding such a potent poison.
Tang Ke Xin did not even glance at him. She continued adjusting the wires around the tree, utterly unmoved. She could not be bothered to waste breath on him.
"Tang Ke Xin," Mu Shaoyi snapped, irritation rising as she ignored him, "you poisoned Ruyue because you're jealous. Because I like her—"
"Young Master Mu."
Her voice interrupted him—soft, melodic.
She finally looked at him.
And she smiled.
It was a faint smile, light as a whisper, yet breathtakingly beautiful. For a moment, Mu Shaoyi felt as though the world had tilted. Her eyes held a gentle warmth, her lips curved with delicate grace.
His heart gave a strange, involuntary jolt.
She was calling his name so softly…
Looking at him with such tenderness…
Surely she still liked him.
Surely this was all an act to draw his attention.
His lips curved in satisfaction.
But Tang Ke Xin's next words shattered his illusion.
"Does your mother know you're this sentimental?"
Dong'er burst into laughter on the spot.
Even the housekeeper's mouth twitched violently.
Mu Shaoyi's face darkened instantly.
"Tang Ke Xin," he growled, "hand over the antidote, or don't blame me for being impolite."
He was furious—humiliated, even.
Tang Ke Xin's reply was soft, almost gentle.
"Impolite? That depends entirely on whether you have the ability."
Her voice drifted through the air like a breeze—light, effortless, yet carrying a chill that made one's heart tremble.
If a man refused to understand words, then strength would have to speak for her.
Before anyone could blink, something shot forward with a sharp whip of air. It struck the steel wire stretched before them.
Snap!
The wire broke instantly, recoiling with terrifying force. It lashed across the courtyard, slicing through the wooden stakes with a speed too fast for the eye to follow.
Crack—crack—crack—crack—crack—crack.
Six wooden posts split cleanly in half.
Silence fell.
Everyone stared—stunned, speechless, utterly shaken.
Tang Ke Xin stood calmly amidst the wreckage, her white dress fluttering gently, as though she had done nothing more than pluck a flower.
And in that moment, every person present understood:
This was no longer the foolish young lady they once knew.
This was someone who spoke with strength.