CHAPTER FORTY‑ONE — A SCOUNDREL'S SPIRIT
"Tsk. You're not frightened at all—far too timid. I merely uttered a few random words. Must you react so dramatically? How dull."
Tang Ke Xin rose to her feet, dusting her hands together with a languid clap. The faint upward curl of her lips carried a hint of boredom, even disappointment. Her posture—careless, insolent, utterly unrestrained—was more roguish than anything the Fourth Prince had ever managed in his most mischievous moments.
The crowd stared, utterly dumbfounded.
What on earth did she mean by that?
No one noticed the fleeting glint of coldness that flashed beneath her lowered lashes the moment she stood.
She was absolutely certain Xiao Cui had lied.
Absolutely certain the girl had been instructed to frame her.
Yet now, watching Tang Ke Xin's nonchalance, the onlookers felt as though lightning had struck them senseless. The solemn, incomprehensible analysis she had delivered moments ago—had it all been nonsense? A performance? A trick to frighten the maid?
No wonder they had understood none of it.
Perhaps even she had not understood it.
Ye Lan Jue's mouth twitched.
This woman… she could at least pretend to be modest.
"You still have the mind to jest at a time like this?" the Empress whispered, relief softening her voice as she gripped Tang Ke Xin's hand—tighter than she realised.
Everything that had just occurred had been far too dangerous.
Tang Ke Xin shrugged, utterly unbothered.
"But it has nothing to do with me," she said lightly, even whistling under her breath.
Several people nearly dropped to the ground.
The contrast was too great.
Too shocking.
Impossible to reconcile.
At this moment, Tang Ke Xin was the very embodiment of a scoundrel.
Ye Lan Jue's lips curved faintly, though the emotion behind the smile was difficult to decipher.
Tang Ke Xin turned—and caught Ye Lan Chen staring at her, wide‑eyed. Her gaze flickered mischievously. Without warning, she snatched the red date from his hand, tossed it into her mouth, and bit down with exaggerated relish.
"So sweet."
Ye Lan Jue's eyes narrowed. A chill flickered through them—yet something else stirred beneath the coldness.
Tang Ke Xin, however, noticed none of it. She was too busy maintaining her façade of irreverent mischief, determined to divert attention and appear as harmlessly foolish as possible.
She knew Ye Lan Chen would play along.
"You—why are you stealing from this king? There are plenty on the table!" Ye Lan Chen snapped back to life, glaring at her with theatrical indignation.
He had picked up the jujube earlier, then forgotten to eat it in the chaos.
The crowd gaped.
She had snatched food from a prince.
And eaten it.
Just like that.
Was she fearless—or simply mad?
"It was closer," Tang Ke Xin replied breezily. "Reaching over to the table would have been far too troublesome."
Several people nearly fainted.
Ye Lan Chen spluttered. "Why are you so lazy?"
"The two of you quarrel the moment you meet," the Empress said with a soft laugh, though her hand tightened protectively around Tang Ke Xin's. She was deliberately shifting the atmosphere, guiding the crowd's attention away from the earlier danger.
Those present exchanged startled glances.
The Empress's meaning was unmistakable.
She wished to pair the Fourth Prince with Miss Tang.
If such a match were made, the engagement with Mu Shaoyi could be dissolved without difficulty.
The Emperor blinked, then smiled faintly—his expression carrying a clear, knowing implication.
Ye Lan Jue's icy gaze shifted. The frost in his eyes melted, replaced by a depth so dark and still it resembled a deep pool.
Tang Ke Xin, mid‑chew, bit her tongue.
Pain shot through her.
Heavens, that hurt.
"Muhou…" Ye Lan Chen began, flustered.
"Drag this servant away. A hundred strokes," the Emperor commanded coldly, his gaze falling upon Xiao Cui.
A hundred strokes of the staff.
For a palace maid, it was a death sentence.
He clearly believed this was a scheme orchestrated by the harem, and intended to eliminate the pawn.
Tang Ke Xin's heart tightened.
This was not so simple.
But she could not speak—not now.
Xiao Cui was dragged away, screaming, and the crowd dispersed.
Tang Ke Xin tugged Ye Lan Chen aside, lowering her voice.
"Send someone to watch her. Do not let her die."
"Why would she frame you?" he asked, bewildered.
"This is no simple matter. Send someone trustworthy—someone discreet. She must not die, nor be discovered."
Her tone was grave.
Xiao Cui was the only lead.
She could not be allowed to vanish.
This was clearly aimed at the Empress.
Tang Ke Xin could not intervene openly—but Ye Lan Chen could.
Ahead of them, Ye Lan Jue's steps slowed almost imperceptibly.
"Oh… all right."
Ye Lan Chen nodded, unusually serious.
He trusted her completely.
Because of the incident, Tang Ke Xin's departure was delayed. News soon arrived from the Prime Minister's Estate: the Prime Minister and his wife had left the city to fetch the old madam and would not return for two days. The Empress therefore kept Tang Ke Xin in the palace.
The death of a palace maid caused no ripples.
Life in the palace resumed its deceptive calm.
Even the Empress did not mention the matter again.
That evening, the Emperor visited Kunning Palace.
He had left the previous night in a dark mood.
Yet today he arrived smiling faintly, almost warmly.
Tang Ke Xin was surprised.
"This girl, Xin'er, has recovered well. She is truly clever," the Emperor said, smiling at her.
Tang Ke Xin's eyes flickered.
Why did it feel as though he was… flattering the Empress?
"This humble girl will take her leave," she said quickly, excusing herself.
Once she was gone, the Emperor turned to the Empress.
"I know you wish for Chen'er and Xin'er to be together. Once her engagement to Mu Shaoyi is annulled, I shall issue a decree granting them marriage."
The Empress froze.
She had not expected him to raise the matter himself.
"Are you so surprised?" the Emperor asked with a soft laugh. He reached out and drew her into his arms with gentle affection.
But the moment she touched him, her body stiffened instinctively.
The Emperor's smile faltered.
His gaze darkened.
His hand tightened around her waist—too tightly.
Nineteen years.
She had been in the palace for nineteen years.
How could nineteen years of marriage still feel like this?
His eyes grew colder, shadowed by something darker.
Without warning, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the inner chamber. With a swift movement, he pressed her onto the bed and kissed her—fiercely, almost violently.
His actions were wild, unrestrained, and edged with a frustration he could no longer conceal.