CHAPTER THIRTY‑NINE — A SHARP‑EDGED APPEARANCE
"Your Majesty, may this humble girl ask her a few questions?"
Tang Ke Xin turned calmly, her voice soft and unhurried, her expression so composed that it was impossible to discern her thoughts.
The Emperor blinked, faintly puzzled.
"Of course. If you have questions, ask them freely. There is no need for such formality."
Tang Ke Xin shook her head lightly.
"When I question her, I ask that no one interrupt—no speaking, no noise, no gestures, and no interference of any kind."
The faint smile she had worn earlier vanished entirely. Her expression became solemn—almost severe.
The Emperor frowned, curiosity stirring.
"Very well. I give you my word."
What sort of question required such gravity?
Even he could not help but lean forward slightly, intrigued.
Around them, the gathered nobles exchanged glances, their faces full of curiosity. Even Ye Lan Jue's eyes held a faint, unreadable glimmer.
The palace maid kneeling on the ground stiffened visibly. Tang Ke Xin's seriousness pressed upon her like a weight. Her hands, hidden within her sleeves, curled tightly. Sweat dampened her palms. Her heartbeat quickened.
"Xin'er, what could you possibly wish to ask that requires such solemnity?"
Imperial Concubine Ming's gentle voice wavered ever so slightly.
Li Mingzhu—daughter of the famed Old General Li, the man who had once saved the late Emperor's life—was a woman of extraordinary pedigree. Treated like a pearl in her father's palm, she had entered the palace eight years ago and been granted the title of Imperial Consort immediately.
Many whispered that had she been born ten years earlier, the position of Empress would surely have been hers.
Others disagreed. Empress Mu Wanning, daughter of Tutor Mu, had no military backing, no political influence—yet the Emperor had insisted on marrying her, elevating her directly to Empress upon entry.
At the time, few understood why a newly ascended Emperor, still stabilising his rule, would make such a bold choice.
Tang Ke Xin blinked innocently at Imperial Concubine Ming.
"Your Ladyship, His Majesty has already promised that no one may interrupt. Did you not hear?"
Her tone was mild, her expression guileless—yet the rebuke was unmistakable.
Ye Lan Chen nearly choked.
This girl has perfected the art of playing the pig to eat the tiger.
Ye Lan Jue's brow lifted ever so slightly.
Imperial Concubine Ming's smile froze. Her lips parted, but she said nothing further.
No one else dared speak.
The Emperor merely tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth, half‑amused, half‑curious.
Tang Ke Xin offered the Imperial Concubine a pure, sincere smile—one that, in Mingzhu's eyes, was nothing short of infuriating.
Then she turned to the palace maid who had accused her.
"What is your name?" she asked lightly.
The maid blinked, startled. She had expected interrogation—accusation—anything but this.
"Th‑this servant… this servant is called Xiao Cui."
She had answered the Emperor without stammering, yet now she stumbled over her own name.
"Xiao Cui," Tang Ke Xin repeated thoughtfully. "Not bad."
The maid stared at her, bewildered.
The crowd exchanged confused looks.
Not bad? What did that mean?
"Where did you find the body?" Tang Ke Xin asked, her tone still mild.
Xiao Cui hesitated, then replied, "I… I passed by the rock garden and saw Miss Tang strike Qiu Ju with a stone."
Tang Ke Xin smiled inwardly.
Good. Quick reflexes. Strong nerves. This will be interesting.
"Which palace are you from?"
"Lian Yi Yuan," Xiao Cui answered promptly, though surprise flickered in her eyes.
"And where were you going on such a hot day?"
"Noble Lady Lian sent me to fetch ice to relieve the heat."
"And do you know the deceased?"
"Yes. She is Qiu Ju."
Three simple questions.
Nothing threatening.
Nothing unusual.
Tang Ke Xin nodded, then repeated the first question.
"Which palace are you from?"
"Lian Yi Yuan," Xiao Cui replied again, thinking Tang Ke Xin had forgotten.
"And where were you going?"
"To fetch ice for Noble Lady Lian."
"And the deceased?"
"Qiu Ju."
By now, Xiao Cui had relaxed. Her earlier tension faded, replaced by faint contempt.
This fool is repeating herself. She must be simple‑minded after all.
Tang Ke Xin's expression remained serene, but inside she smiled.
This was precisely what she wanted.
She had asked the Emperor for silence because this process required absolute focus. She needed Xiao Cui to lower her guard—to slip into a rhythm—to answer instinctively.
A person who relaxes after fear relaxes too much.
Their vigilance collapses.
Their arrogance rises.
Tang Ke Xin asked the three questions again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, her pace quickened.
Each time, Xiao Cui matched her speed without realising it.
The crowd grew dizzy listening to the repetition.
Some wondered if Tang Ke Xin's mind had relapsed.
But no one dared interrupt—not after the Emperor's promise.
Ye Lan Jue's gaze deepened, a faint gleam of interest flickering within.
Then, after the fourth round, Tang Ke Xin struck.
"Which palace are you from?"
"Lian Yi Yuan."
"Where were you going?"
"To fetch ice."
"Do you know the deceased?"
"Yes, Qiu Ju."
"Who killed Qiu Ju?"
The question slipped in seamlessly—same tone, same rhythm, same casualness.
Xiao Cui had no time to think.
No time to lie.
No time to prepare.
"This servant doesn't know—this servant didn't see—"
The words burst from her lips instinctively.
Silence fell.
A heavy, absolute silence.
Every breath in the courtyard seemed to stop.
Xiao Cui's eyes widened in horror.
Her hand flew to her mouth too late.
Tang Ke Xin stood calmly, her expression serene, her gaze sharp as a blade.
The truth had been drawn out—cleanly, effortlessly, undeniably.
And the entire world had heard it.