CHAPTER 58 — WHEN A PRINCESS MET HER MATCH
His hand halted mid‑air.
Ye Lan Jue's eyes lifted sharply, fixing upon her with a force that struck like a blade of winter. The calm mask he had worn moments earlier shattered, replaced by a coldness far more severe than his usual icy reserve.
He stared at her—unblinking, penetrating, merciless.
There was frost in his gaze, but beneath that frost simmered something far more dangerous: a restrained, blood‑tinged fury.
"Tang Ke Xin," he said, leaning forward with sudden, predatory intent, "you suspect this king?"
Each word fell like a drop of ice water, chilling enough to make one's bones tremble.
She had touched a nerve.
A deep one.
The Third Prince's presence closed in around her, suffocating and oppressive. His aura—always formidable—now carried a terrifying edge, as though a single wrong breath might provoke him into violence.
This was not the cold, distant prince the world feared.
This was something far more volatile.
"No," Tang Ke Xin replied at once, steadying her breath. "I do not suspect Your Highness. I merely wished to ask whether you knew of the matter beforehand."
She had only wondered: if he knew, perhaps others did as well.
Her sincerity reached him. His eyes flickered—just slightly—and some of the murderous chill receded.
But then he leaned in again, so close his breath brushed her ear.
"Remember this king," he murmured, each syllable slow and deliberate. "If you dare to doubt me… the consequences—"
Tang Ke Xin held her breath, waiting.
The consequences of a Third Prince's displeasure were never mild.
But instead of finishing the threat, he abruptly changed direction.
"—you may consider them yourself."
His tone shifted, the earlier frost melting away as swiftly as it had appeared.
Tang Ke Xin blinked.
His temper truly came and went like a passing storm—violent one moment, gone the next. And who in the world could restrain a prince's whims?
Still, his words unsettled her.
She was to imagine the consequences?
Did he truly expect her to invent her own punishment?
If so, she could imagine something quite pleasant.
But the Third Prince was not known for being easy to negotiate with.
Tang Ke Xin remained doubtful.
At last, he withdrew, allowing her lungs to fill properly again.
"This king indeed knew the princess would present the secret manual today," he said, his gaze returning to her—though now with a complexity she could not decipher. "And this king also knows that the book found in your sleeve was the real secret manual."
Tang Ke Xin's heart tightened.
Of course he knew.
Nothing escaped this man's eyes.
"Since it is genuine," he continued softly, "no one has ever read it. It is impossible that you had seen it beforehand."
Tang Ke Xin felt a cold ripple run through her.
Had he waited here specifically to question her?
Had he dismissed her father merely to corner her alone?
"Tell me," he said at last, "how did you recite it?"
Tang Ke Xin pressed her lips together.
She could hardly tell him she used a modern memorisation technique—something he would never understand, let alone believe. Even if she explained it, it would sound like madness.
But she could not refuse to answer.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Perhaps," she said lightly, "I am a goddess descended to the mortal realm."
It was playful, narcissistic, and entirely unserious.
But it eased the tension in the air.
The Third Prince's lips twitched.
A goddess?
She truly dared to say anything.
"This king does not know whether you are a goddess," he replied dryly, "but this king does know that your tail is rising higher and higher."
He snorted softly.
"Perhaps you truly wish this king to chop it off."
Tang Ke Xin nearly choked.
Her tail?
Did she even have one?
Before she could respond, a sweet, melodious voice rang out.
"Elder sister!"
Tang Ke Xin did not react.
No one in the palace would ever call her elder sister.
But the Third Prince's eyes flicked toward her, observing her lack of response with a strange glimmer.
"Big sister Tang!"
This time, the princess herself came running into view, bright‑eyed and breathless. She stopped before them, staring directly at Tang Ke Xin with unmistakable intent.
Tang Ke Xin's eyes widened.
"Princess… are you calling me?"
Surely she had misheard.
The princess had called her elder sister.
Was she mad?
"Of course I am calling you, Big Sister Tang."
The princess seized her arm affectionately, clinging like a kitten.
Tang Ke Xin's expression stiffened.
She liked the little princess, but the child's sudden sweetness was far too suspicious. Her smile was that of a fox cub—adorable, but undeniably scheming.
A family of foxes indeed.
"Big Sister Tang," the princess said eagerly, "I need your help."
Tang Ke Xin sighed inwardly.
She had expected this.
"What is it, Princess?"
"Elder sister, teach me Mind Reading!"
Tang Ke Xin nearly dropped her fan.
"What Mind Reading? This humble girl knows no such thing."
But she remembered—when she had whispered threats to Liu Ruyue earlier, the princess had been standing right beside her.
The Third Prince's gaze sharpened, cutting into her like a blade.
Mind Reading?
She knew it?
"You're lying!" the princess protested. "I heard you tell Liu Ruyue you could read minds!"
"Princess, I told you—I lied to her."
"No, you're lying to me," the princess huffed. "If you didn't know Mind Reading, how could you have exposed Liu Ruyue so accurately?"
Tang Ke Xin rubbed her temples.
"Princess, I truly do not know any such technique. I was merely fortunate earlier."
She could not possibly teach a princess something that did not exist.
And even if it did, a commoner like her had no right to instruct royalty.
"Tang Ke Xin," the princess declared, puffing up like a tiny general, "I command you to teach me Mind Reading!"
Tang Ke Xin stared at her.
The Third Prince stared at her.
And Tang Ke Xin wondered, not for the first time—
Who exactly did she like now?
And why was the Third Prince so very… eccentric?
Tang Ke Xin paused for a heartbeat, her expression momentarily blank. The memory of the Third Prince's earlier threats flickered through her mind, stirring a faint irritation. Was she truly so easy to bully? Yes, she had no choice but to endure His Highness's temper—but must she now submit to the whims of a twelve‑year‑old princess as well?
Her gaze lifted, cool and steady.
"Princess," she said slowly, each word crisp and deliberate, "even if I refuse to teach you, there is nothing you can do to me."
The little princess blinked, stunned.
Tang Ke Xin inclined her head ever so slightly—an elegant gesture that somehow carried more hauteur than a royal bow—and then turned on her heel, sweeping away without another word.
The princess stood frozen, as stiff as a carved wooden figurine.
Under the pavilion, the Third Prince did not rise, nor did he speak. Only the faintest curve touched his lips—a quiet, knowing smile.
"Ah?" The princess finally found her voice. "She… she left? Just like that?"
She stared after Tang Ke Xin, utterly bewildered. She was a princess—people bowed, scraped, and trembled before her. No one had ever walked away from her so casually, so boldly, so… imperiously.
"Third Imperial Brother," she demanded, turning to Ye Lan Jue, "don't you think she went too far just now?"
"Yes," he replied mildly, his tone smooth as still water. "It was indeed a little excessive."
The princess brightened at once, her indignation swelling.
"Exactly! She was far too much! How could she treat me like that?"
But the Third Prince continued, his voice calm and unhurried:
"However… you truly cannot do anything to her."
The princess's mouth fell open.
"Third Imperial Brother—whose side are you on?" she cried, eyes wide with disbelief. "You're supposed to help me, not her!"
She stamped her foot, thoroughly aggrieved.
"Third Imperial Brother, you're biased!"
At that moment, Ye Lan Chen happened to stroll past. Hearing the princess's complaint, he paused, amusement lighting his eyes.
"Biased?" he echoed with a grin. "What's biased?"
"Fourth Imperial Brother, you came at the perfect time!" The princess rushed to him. "Just now, Big Sister Tang refused to help me—and Third Imperial Brother took her side instead of mine!"
"Big Sister Tang?" Ye Lan Chen repeated, startled. "You mean Tang Ke Xin?"
"Yes, yes, her!" The princess nodded vigorously. "Third Imperial Brother is biased—he helps Big Sister Tang but not me!"
Ye Lan Chen's eyes sparkled with mischief.
"So you're saying," he drawled, "that our esteemed Third Brother is kind enough to help Miss Tang… but not his own royal sister?"
The princess nodded emphatically.
And Ye Lan Chen laughed—low, delighted, and entirely entertained.