CHAPTER TWENTY — A PURE WHITE RABBIT
"We pay our respects to Your Highness the Third and Fourth Princes."
The Prime Minister, momentarily forgetting his anger, bowed deeply. His voice trembled with both reverence and surprise. Tang Ke Xin, standing beside him, wondered what expression would be most appropriate at such a moment.
"Xin'er, greet Their Highnesses," the Prime Minister urged when he noticed her stillness.
Tang Ke Xin stepped forward and bowed with quiet grace. "Greetings to the Third and Fourth Princes."
She behaved impeccably—calm, composed, and entirely without fault.
Ye Lan Jue, the Third Prince, lifted his gaze to her. His eyes—dark, star‑bright, and fathomless—held no visible emotion, yet they seemed to pierce straight through her. One glance, and she felt as though every layer of her carefully constructed composure had been stripped away.
It was as if he could see everything—every secret, every fear, every thought she had tried to bury.
Tang Ke Xin's breath caught.
She had never known that a single look could make one feel so utterly exposed. His presence carried a danger that seeped into the bones—a cold, silent threat that could extinguish a life without leaving a trace.
Rumour had long painted the Third Prince as the most formidable figure in the imperial court. Brilliant, elegant, and terrifyingly capable, he commanded armies with a word and bent the court to his will with a glance. Mountains moved when he acted; stars bowed when he looked up.
Very few things in the world could catch his attention. Even fewer could make him look twice.
So why… was he looking at her like that?
It could not simply be because he overheard her earlier nonsense about wolfdogs and mice. That would be absurd.
But she remembered—he had been in the temple that night.
Could he be the man from that night?
The thought made her blood run cold.
Compared to Nangong Yi, Ye Lan Jue was infinitely more dangerous.
"I heard Master Hui Yuan cured your illness," the Fourth Prince, Ye Lan Chen, said cheerfully. "It seems you've truly recovered."
He was young, lively, and far more interested in mischief than politics. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he added, "I also heard you planned to chase someone away with rats. How exactly does one do that?"
Tang Ke Xin straightened, answering with solemn seriousness.
"First, one must capture a particularly fierce rat. Second, one must wait for the person to come knocking again. These two conditions are essential."
Ye Lan Chen blinked, stunned. He had not expected such a straightforward explanation.
"Hm! So you weren't lying after all." His eyes lit up with excitement. "If those two conditions are met, will it work?"
"In theory, yes," Tang Ke Xin replied thoughtfully. "But the actual outcome would require practice."
The Prime Minister nearly fainted.
"You—go back to your room and reflect on your behaviour!" he snapped, his face turning an alarming shade of green. His daughter had always been a handful when foolish; now that she was clever, she was even more terrifying.
Tang Ke Xin bowed her head obediently. "Yes, Father."
Her voice was soft, her posture meek—like a pure, innocent little white rabbit.
Ye Lan Chen raised an eyebrow.
A pure white rabbit indeed.
A rabbit who released wolfdogs to chase away a suitor…
A rabbit who solemnly promised to use mice next time…
A rabbit who could anger the Prime Minister into near collapse…
Yet now she stood there, demure and gentle, as though butter would not melt in her mouth.
The contrast was so absurd that even the Third Prince's gaze lingered on her for a fraction longer.
And Tang Ke Xin, feeling that gaze, prayed silently that he would never look deeper.
For if he did…
she feared even a rabbit's innocence would not save her.