CHAPTER FIFTY‑TWO — A REBUKE THAT SHOOK THE COURT
The hall erupted into stunned disbelief.
Had Tang Ke Xin truly said that?
Had she actually claimed the book as her own?
Imperial Concubine Ming let out a soft, incredulous laugh. Though her tone remained honeyed, her words dripped with mockery.
"Is this girl mad? The princess clearly stated that this is a secret manual meant for His Majesty, yet she dares to claim it as hers?"
Her voice was gentle, but the ridicule beneath it was unmistakable.
Tang Ke Xin met her gaze with solemn calm.
"But it is mine."
Imperial Concubine Ming's smile sharpened.
"Even if you are frightened, you must not speak recklessly. This manual is obviously the princess's offering. How could it possibly belong to you?"
Tang Ke Xin tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with feigned innocence.
"Imperial Concubine Ming keeps insisting it is a secret manual. But how, exactly, does Imperial Concubine Ming intend to prove that?"
The concubine faltered for a heartbeat—caught off guard—before recovering.
"The princess has already explained it clearly."
Tang Ke Xin nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes, the princess said she recognised the wrapping. But she also said she never opened it. And this black cloth—"
She lifted the cloth between two fingers and gave it a light shake.
"—is extremely ordinary. One could buy it anywhere."
The princess blinked, then nodded earnestly.
"Yes, I have never actually opened it."
Tang Ke Xin smiled at her—warmly, almost affectionately.
The princess, innocent and honest, answered without guile.
Imperial Concubine Ming's expression tightened.
"Even if it is not a secret manual, how do you prove it is yours?" she snapped, her patience thinning.
Tang Ke Xin fell silent, her brows knitting as though she were genuinely troubled by the question.
Imperial Concubine Ming's lips curved in triumph.
She turned to the Emperor, her voice soft and coaxing.
"Your Majesty, this girl is far too reckless. This matter concerns a secret manual, yet she dares to speak nonsense. She must be disciplined."
The Empress's eyes darkened. She opened her mouth to speak—
"Tang Ke Xin, how can you trifle with such a matter?"
The Emperor's voice thundered through the hall.
His expression had grown darker by the moment.
To him, Tang Ke Xin's behaviour appeared obstinate, foolish, even disrespectful.
And yet—
Tang Ke Xin lifted her head and spoke with quiet clarity.
"Your Majesty, this humble girl is not trifling. This book truly belongs to me. When I heard the princess's words, I feared I had mistaken it for another. That is why I asked to see it. After reading it, I am certain—it is indeed mine. I have been reading it for a long time."
Her tone was calm, her words precise, her certainty unwavering.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed.
"Oh? And how do you intend to prove that? This is no trivial matter."
Tang Ke Xin bowed her head slightly.
"This humble girl has a way. I wonder whether Your Majesty would care to hear me."
A ripple of shock passed through the hall.
The Emperor raised a brow.
"Speak."
He clearly did not believe she had any method at all—but he could not refuse her request outright.
Tang Ke Xin straightened her back.
"Although my memory has suffered due to my illness, I have read this book many times. I remember parts of it. I can recite some passages now. If it is truly the secret manual, then I will not be able to recite a single line."
Her voice deepened, her pace slowed—drawing the hall into her rhythm.
Imperial Concubine Ming let out a derisive laugh.
"You? Recite a book? You expect us to believe that? You just flipped through the manual—did you not memorise a few lines to deceive us?"
Her sarcasm was sharp enough to cut.
Many in the hall nodded.
They thought the same.
Ye Lan Jue's eyes narrowed.
Was she mad?
He knew the manual was genuine.
She, however, had never seen it before.
How could she possibly recite it?
Unless—
Unless, of course, she possessed some talent he had not yet perceived.
For the first time in a long while, the Third Prince felt unsettled.
The Emperor considered for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well. We shall do as you say."
Eunuch Liu retrieved the manual and handed it to the Emperor.
He opened the first page.
Tang Ke Xin inhaled softly, then began to recite.
Her voice flowed like water—smooth, steady, unbroken.
Line after line.
Paragraph after paragraph.
The Emperor's eyes widened.
He flipped to the next page.
Then the next.
And the next.
Tang Ke Xin continued without pause.
The hall fell utterly silent.
Even breathing seemed too loud.
By the time the Emperor reached the fifth page, the entire court was staring at Tang Ke Xin as though she were a ghost.
This was no simple text.
It was filled with astronomical calculations, geographical theories, and obscure terminology.
Even a scholar would struggle to memorise so much in a short time.
Yet this girl—this "fool"—recited it flawlessly.
Ye Lan Jue's composure shattered.
His eyes widened, shock flickering openly across his face.
How had she done it?
The Crown Prince's gaze deepened, dark and unreadable.
When Tang Ke Xin finally paused, she coughed lightly.
"Your Majesty, shall I continue? This humble girl is a little thirsty. May I have some water?"
In truth, she had only memorised the portion she had skimmed earlier.
But it was enough.
The Emperor exhaled slowly, still stunned.
"No… no, that is enough. It appears this is not the secret manual."
His voice carried disappointment—but also complete belief.
Tang Ke Xin smiled faintly.
She did not know who had orchestrated this trap, but she knew one thing:
They had planned it flawlessly.
They had left no evidence for her to uncover.
Even if the Emperor had spared her life, she would have been imprisoned—and the Empress and Prime Minister dragged down with her.
Her only path was to turn the trap back on itself.
And she had succeeded.
Imperial Concubine Ming finally found her voice.
"You are a girl—why would you read such a book?"
Tang Ke Xin turned to her, expression cool.
"Why care about the heavens and the earth? Why care about other people's business?"
Her tone was blunt, sharp, and utterly unapologetic.
In the palace, the Empress and the Imperial Concubine were natural enemies.
And today, Imperial Concubine Ming had clearly come to strike her while she was down.
Tang Ke Xin had no intention of being polite.
Not now.
Not ever.
Tang Ke Xin's words were not merely blunt—they were deliberate.
Every syllable carried a subtle implication: that Imperial Concubine Ming wielded far too much influence, that her authority had grown unchecked, and that her "kindness" was nothing more than a veil for overreach.
And when placed beside Tang Ke Xin's earlier remark about Old General Li's arrogance, the meaning became even sharper.
The Emperor would not miss it.
He never missed anything.
The hall fell into a stunned, breathless silence.
Never—never in living memory—had a young girl spoken so boldly in the imperial hall. It was shocking, outrageous, and utterly unprecedented.
And yet…
From Tang Ke Xin's lips, the words did not sound crude.
They did not sound insolent.
They flowed with a strange, effortless grace—sharp as a blade, but polished like jade.
Instead of offence, many felt a quiet, guilty satisfaction.
Especially the concubines who had long simmered under Imperial Concubine Ming's shadow.
Yes, their eyes seemed to say.
No matter how powerful you are, can you command the heavens? Can you command the earth? Can you command others? And how dare your authority overshadow His Majesty's?
The Empress's brows twitched ever so slightly.
Her lips pressed together—an attempt to hide the smile threatening to escape.
Several of the concubines quite failed to maintain a straight face amid the commotion.
Soft laughter slipped out, quickly smothered behind sleeves.
Imperial Concubine Ming's face flushed a dangerous shade of crimson.
Her chest rose and fell sharply, as though she might cough up blood at any moment.
The Prime Minister, pale with alarm, finally found his voice.
"Xin'er, how can you speak to Imperial Concubine Ming in such a manner? It is… not proper."
His tone trembled between reprimand and fear.
But Tang Ke Xin merely stood there—calm, poised, and utterly unrepentant.
And the hall, still ringing with the echo of her audacity, could not look away.