CHAPTER THIRTY‑ONE — LET HER HAVE A WISH
The corner of Ye Lan Chen's mouth twitched violently as he rolled his eyes at Tang Ke Xin.
Gentle and virtuous? Lively and adorable? Beautiful and generous? Tall and slender?
What in heaven's name did any of that have to do with her?
And "beloved by all, with flowers blooming at her passing"?
Why not simply ascend to immortality while she was at it?
She even spoke as though no one would want her—as though she were some tragic maiden cast aside by fate. With her fierce temperament and sharp tongue, who indeed would dare marry her?
The Crown Prince's lips also twitched.
Where, in all the heavens and earth, did this woman find such unshakeable confidence?
Ye Lan Jue's lips pressed together ever so slightly. His star‑bright eyes lifted toward her, the depths of his gaze growing increasingly unreadable—layer upon layer of complexity gathering like mist.
The Emperor, meanwhile, stared at Tang Ke Xin in open astonishment.
Did this girl even know the meaning of the word modesty? Her illness had only just been cured; surely she had not yet learned such subtleties. And yet she spoke with such righteous conviction, such bold, heroic spirit, that he could not help but be struck by it.
Yes—heroic was the word.
When she had repeated the Empress's praise just now, there had been a strange, stirring force behind her words.
When the Empress had praised Tang Ke Xin earlier, he had been speechless.
Now that Tang Ke Xin had praised herself, he was even more speechless.
Then, quite suddenly, the Emperor chuckled.
"This girl has indeed recovered. How amusing."
All displeasure vanished from his face.
As Emperor, he was accustomed to hearing only flattery, caution, and trembling reverence. Ministers bowed, concubines feared every misplaced word, and even his own sons measured their tone before him.
But this girl—this peculiar, straightforward girl—had spoken to him with innocent candour, without fear or calculation. Her words were unpolished, immodest, even outrageous… yet they felt strangely refreshing.
For a man who stood above all others, loneliness was a constant companion.
Her unrestrained honesty was, in its own way, a rare delight.
"Is His Majesty teasing me?" the Empress finally asked, recovering from her shock. When she saw the Emperor's smile, her eyes brightened.
"I thought it was praise," the Emperor replied lightly, the corners of his lips lifting with genuine amusement.
"I thought Your Majesty was smiling at my heart," the Empress said with a relieved sigh. It seemed the Emperor was not angry after all—and perhaps even pleased with Xin'er.
The Emperor turned back to Tang Ke Xin.
"Little girl, you said it yourself—it is no great matter. Perhaps the Empress is right. Since Mu Shaoyi has no wish to marry, then let us not force him."
His tone was tactful, but the meaning beneath it was unmistakably firm.
"Your Majesty means to agree…?"
The Empress's eyes brightened with quiet delight.
"This matter," the Emperor said, cutting her off, "shall depend on the little girl's own heart."
He smiled at Tang Ke Xin, warm and amused.
The hall fell utterly silent.
Depend on her heart?
The Emperor's decision—an imperial marriage decree—hinging on Tang Ke Xin's personal wishes?
Such favour was rarer than phoenix feathers.
The Crown Prince's gaze dimmed, a shadow passing through his eyes before he lowered them slightly. He schooled his expression, but a faint chill lingered in the air around him.
Even Ye Lan Jue's eyes flickered with a strange, unreadable light.
"Xin'er, quickly thank His Majesty," the Empress urged.
"This humble girl thanks Your Majesty," Tang Ke Xin said, bowing deeply. She had not expected the Emperor to speak so kindly. He seemed far more amiable—and far more mischievous—than she had imagined.
"Thank me?" the Emperor echoed, his lips curving into a teasing smile. "And how do you intend to thank me?"
He strolled forward and took his seat with leisurely grace, clearly in no hurry to end the conversation.
Tang Ke Xin froze.
He was the Emperor. What could she possibly offer him? It had been a polite phrase—why had he taken it literally?
"Father," Ye Lan Chen interjected with a sigh, "although she has recovered, she has been a fool for eighteen years. She knows nothing, understands nothing. Surely Father does not expect her to perform something for you?"
He could not resist stabbing at her whenever the opportunity arose.
"Her heart is still young—she can learn," the Empress said sharply. She could not tolerate anyone belittling Tang Ke Xin, not even her own son.
"Young?" Ye Lan Chen scoffed. "She is already eighteen. Other women her age have married and borne children."
The Empress shot him a glare.
The Emperor, meanwhile, tapped his fingers thoughtfully.
"A little girl can jump… dance?"
He paused, as though even he realised this might be asking too much.
Tang Ke Xin shook her head. She could dance—but if she truly performed the dances she knew, she might very well frighten the entire imperial family into fainting.
"Then… can you draw?" the Emperor asked, lowering his expectations with admirable speed. "Anything at all?"
"I cannot draw," Tang Ke Xin replied honestly. She could see he did not expect much, but she could hardly scribble nonsense before the Son of Heaven.
"Royal Father, do not expect anything from her," Ye Lan Chen said mercilessly. "I already told you—she knows nothing and understands nothing."
The Emperor ignored him entirely.
"At least show me something," he said, leaning back with a leisurely air. "If you can satisfy me, I shall grant you a wish."
This time, he was not teasing. His tone held genuine interest.
Human nature was peculiar—what one could not obtain became all the more tempting. And the more Tang Ke Xin insisted she could do nothing, the more the Emperor wished to see something.
Besides, as the ruler of a nation, he had never been entertained in such a casual, personal manner. He did not expect her to possess any extraordinary skill; he simply wished to indulge a moment of curiosity.
Tang Ke Xin's eyes lit up instantly.
A wish from the Emperor.
That was no trivial matter. It was a treasure more valuable than gold, more precious than rank, more powerful than any favour she could earn elsewhere.
In this ancient world, where a single imperial decree could determine life or death, such an opportunity was priceless.
How could she possibly let it slip away?
"In that case," Tang Ke Xin said, bowing respectfully, "this humble girl shall perform for His Majesty."
"Eh?" Ye Lan Chen blinked, startled. "You? Perform? What could you possibly do?"
His tone dripped with mockery, but curiosity flickered in his eyes.
The Crown Prince lifted his gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips—half amusement, half intrigue.
Even Ye Lan Jue's eyes shifted, a subtle glimmer of interest appearing in their depths.
Tang Ke Xin performing?
What could she possibly show?
The hall grew quiet, the air thick with anticipation.
And Tang Ke Xin, standing in the centre of the imperial court, felt a spark of determination ignite within her.
If she was to perform, she would perform something unforgettable.
Something that would secure her wish.
Something that would ensure her survival.