CHAPTER 61 — THE FOX WHO TWISTED EVERY WORD
"Why, is my heart feeling shy now?" Nangong Yi murmured, leaning in with shameless intimacy. "You were not the least bit shy when you kissed me so fervently in the carriage that day."
Though he lowered his voice, he did so only enough to make the words sound private—certainly not enough to prevent the Third Prince from hearing every syllable.
Tang Ke Xin was struck utterly speechless.
Ye Lan Jue, however, remained motionless. He lifted his teacup with glacial composure and sipped as though the world around him did not exist. Yet anyone who looked closely would notice the porcelain cup had begun to warp beneath the pressure of his grip.
"Do not be shy, my heart. I shall marry you soon."
Nangong Yi leaned even closer, his tone bright with unrestrained joy. Then, turning to the Third Prince with a smile that bordered on insolence, he added, "Your Highness, when the time comes, you must honour us by drinking the wedding wine of my heart and me."
Tang Ke Xin could endure no more.
"Nangong Yi, that is enough."
Yes, she had said certain things in the carriage. Yes, she had kissed him. But all of it—all of it—had been to frighten him away. And he, being the clever fox he was, certainly knew that. Which meant he was doing this deliberately.
One careless "wife," and he had spun an entire tapestry of ambiguous nonsense. Now he was even inviting the Third Prince to their imaginary wedding feast.
His imagination was truly boundless.
Yes, she had spoken those words. But he had not responded. He had not agreed. He had fled.
How could that possibly count as a vow?
Nangong Yi blinked innocently. "Xin Xin, what is it? Are you angry?"
Ye Lan Jue's head lifted.
"Heart, do not be upset," Nangong Yi continued, his smile widening as he caught the Third Prince's gaze. "If you do not wish to invite His Highness, then we shall not. I shall respect your wishes."
Tang Ke Xin stared at him, utterly defeated.
There was no communicating with this man. His words never followed the same path as hers. He could twist meaning faster than she could breathe.
Her head throbbed. She no longer had the strength to argue.
"Your Highness," Nangong Yi said suddenly, turning to Ye Lan Jue with exaggerated sincerity, "I fear we may not be able to offer you our wedding wine after all. My heart seems to have some… reservations about you. I must respect her feelings."
Tang Ke Xin's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Reservations?
Respecting her wishes?
What utter nonsense.
"Nangong Yi, must you distort everything I say?" she snapped, unable to restrain herself.
"Ah, Xin Xin means that we should invite His Highness to our wedding," Nangong Yi replied at once, nodding obediently. "Very well. As long as Xin Xin is happy, everything shall be as she wishes."
Tang Ke Xin nearly collapsed.
Before she could strangle him, Ye Lan Jue spoke.
"I heard Xi Ling has begun attacking Phoenix City."
His tone was faint, emotionless—yet the words struck like a blade.
Nangong Yi's smile faded. "It has been dealt with."
At last, he grew serious. His gaze toward the Third Prince sharpened with caution. Ye Lan Jue would never raise such a matter without purpose.
Tang Ke Xin exhaled quietly. At least they were discussing state affairs now. Nangong Yi's attention shifted away from her, and she could breathe again.
Ye Lan Jue did not respond immediately. He merely glanced at Nangong Yi—one brief, unreadable look.
But that single glance sent a chill down Nangong Yi's spine.
"Why does Your Highness ask?" he said carefully.
Ye Lan Jue lifted his teacup once more. He sipped slowly, his lips tightening ever so slightly. A cold, oppressive aura unfurled from him—silent, suffocating, absolute.
In an instant, the entire room felt smaller.
Even Nangong Yi's expression changed. His instincts screamed that this was no trivial matter.
"This king does not mind allowing General Wu to assist Xi Ling," Ye Lan Jue said at last, his voice soft, almost casual.
But to Nangong Yi, the words struck like thunder.
Assist Xi Ling?
Join forces?
If the Great Yuan Empire supported Xi Ling, Phoenix City would be attacked from both front and rear. Even with Phoenix City's formidable strength, such a pincer assault would be catastrophic.
Nangong Yi's mind raced.
He had followed Tang Ke Xin into the teahouse because he sensed something amiss. He had seen the Third Prince's unusual reaction to her. He had tested him—and the Third Prince had indeed reacted.
He had confirmed that Ye Lan Jue treated Tang Ke Xin differently. That he cared.
But he had never imagined the Third Prince would go so far as to threaten Phoenix City itself.
All because of Tang Ke Xin.
Nangong Yi, for all his bravado, knew perfectly well that Ye Lan Jue would never truly join hands with Xi Ling to attack Phoenix City. Yet the mere suggestion was enough to send a tremor through him.
Had the Third Prince not heard the rumours circulating through the capital? Or was he simply choosing to ignore them?
"Jue'er, are you not being a little too sinister?" Nangong Yi finally snapped, recovering from his shock. His tone was half‑accusation, half‑complaint.
Then, with theatrical deliberation, he turned to Tang Ke Xin.
"Xin Xin, look at him. Look at what sort of person he is—far too sinister, far too dangerous. You must see his true nature clearly. Do not let yourself be deceived."
His meaning was blatant.
He wanted to provoke Ye Lan Jue.
And he wanted to see how Tang Ke Xin would respond.
Ye Lan Jue's eyes narrowed, a faint glint flashing through them. He said nothing, merely cast Tang Ke Xin a brief, unreadable glance.
"Isn't he always like this?" Tang Ke Xin replied without thinking, relieved to finally breathe again. Her tone was light, casual—almost conversational.
She had long since accepted that Ye Lan Jue was a man of hidden depths and quiet ruthlessness. Compared to the things he was truly capable of, this was nothing.
Thus, she saw no reason to be surprised.
Ye Lan Jue stilled. For a heartbeat, something flickered across his expression. The corner of his lips lifted—just slightly—hidden behind the rim of his teacup.
Nangong Yi, however, was struck dumb.
"Heart… you think he is sinister?" he repeated, staring at her as though she had grown a second head.
How could she possibly think that of Ye Lan Jue?
Cold, yes.
Aloof, certainly.
Ruthless, perhaps.
But sinister?
Never.
Even Nangong Yi, who prided himself on his own cunning, admired Ye Lan Jue's integrity. Yet in Tang Ke Xin's eyes, the Third Prince was… insidious?
"What?" Tang Ke Xin blinked innocently. "What did I say? I've forgotten."
Only then did she realise she had spoken too freely. Nangong Yi's relentless teasing had left her flustered, and she had let her true thoughts slip.
Thinking such things privately was one matter. Saying them aloud—especially in front of the man in question—was quite another.
Yet Ye Lan Jue's expression was not dark. In fact, compared to earlier, he seemed almost… amused. He did not appear angry at all.
"You forgot?" Nangong Yi stared at her, utterly unconvinced. "You forgot what you said just moments ago?"
Her lie was so blatant it was almost impressive.
"Apologies," Tang Ke Xin said sweetly. "My memory is not very good."
The Third Prince's lips twitched.
Her ability to feign innocence was remarkable.
Pretending to be a harmless little lamb while hiding sharp fangs—this was her true talent.
Poor memory?
If she had poor memory, then the rest of the world must be populated by fools.
Nangong Yi could only gape at her.
"Heart, it doesn't matter if you forget everything else," he said at last, recovering with astonishing speed. "You only need to remember our agreement."
His smile returned—brilliant, confident, and utterly shameless.