CHAPTER 63 — THE SMILE THAT SHATTERED HER COMPOSURE
Chaos reigned in the Prime Minister's Estate.
The moment Tang Ke Xin stepped into the sickroom, the old madame's voice cracked through the air like a whip.
"What is the meaning of this? The physician prescribed medicine—why was it not given to Madam?"
The maidservant, already trembling from Tang Ke Xin's earlier interrogation, collapsed to her knees. Her voice shook as she spoke.
"R‑reporting to Madam… this servant discovered that Dong'er poured away the medicine the doctor prescribed. She did not give it to Madam. Instead, she fed her… ordinary ingredients, and the food that the young miss had sent."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"What?"
The old madame's face darkened. "You insolent creature! You dared to pour away Madam's medicine?"
Dong'er immediately knelt, bowing her head until it touched the floor.
"This servant deserves death. This servant deserves death."
"Indeed you do. To harm the mistress of the house—unforgivable. Men, drag her out—"
"I instructed Dong'er to pour out the medicine."
Tang Ke Xin's calm voice cut through the uproar like a blade.
Silence fell.
"What did you say?" The old madame's eyes widened with outrage. "You told her to pour it out? Have you lost your mind? Do you wish to kill your own mother?"
She had never liked Tang Ke Xin, and now she seized the opportunity to condemn her without hesitation.
"Mother, that is impossible," the Prime Minister interjected, his voice strained. "Xin'er is Lian's own daughter. How could she harm her?"
"You heard her yourself!" the old madame snapped. "She admitted it. The doctor said Madam would have recovered had she taken the medicine. Because she poured it away, Madam worsened and fainted!"
"Mother," the Prime Minister insisted, "Xin'er must have had a reason."
"Oh? A reason?" The old madame scoffed. "Very well. Let us hear it. What reason could she possibly have for throwing away her mother's medicine and denying her proper treatment?"
The Prime Minister turned to Tang Ke Xin, worry etched deeply into his features.
"Xin'er… tell us. What happened?"
Tang Ke Xin could see the fear in his eyes—fear for his wife, and fear for her. But this was not a matter she could explain easily.
How could she reveal that she understood medicine? That she had knowledge far beyond what a foolish girl like her former self should possess? Chinese medicine required years of study, experience, and observation. If she suddenly claimed mastery, suspicion would fall upon her immediately.
And the medicinal dishes she had prepared for the Prime Minister's wife… no one here would understand them.
Even Dong'er, who trusted her, had not truly believed in her skill. That was why she had taken the blame so readily.
"Why is Eldest Miss silent?" Aunt Wu asked, her voice dripping with false innocence. "What exactly is going on?"
"Hmph. She has nothing to say," the old madame declared. "To do such a thing—what kind of heart does she have?"
Before Tang Ke Xin could speak, a cold voice cut through the room.
"Summon Imperial Physician Liu."
Everyone turned.
The Third Prince stood at the doorway, his expression unreadable, his presence commanding. Shock rippled through the room.
The Prime Minister bowed at once. "This official greets Your Highness."
"Greetings to Your Highness," the old madame echoed, suddenly meek.
Tang Ke Xin bowed as well, though confusion flickered in her eyes. Why had he come? And why summon Imperial Physician Liu—the Emperor's own physician?
Was it truly for the Prime Minister's wife?
Or… had he seen through something else?
The physician who had examined Madam earlier attempted to slip away. "Since Imperial Physician Liu is coming, this humble one will take his leave—"
"Stay."
The Third Prince's voice was soft, but the authority within it froze the man in place.
"Yes—yes, Your Highness."
The doctor trembled violently, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.
Tang Ke Xin's heart tightened.
He knows. He must know.
Within the hour, the guard returned with Imperial Physician Liu, breathless from the speed of his journey.
"This humble subject greets Your Highness."
"No need for ceremony. See to the Prime Minister's wife."
Imperial Physician Liu entered the room, examined the patient, and his expression grew grave.
"Prime Minister, Madam's condition is dire. Very dire indeed."
The Prime Minister swayed. "How… how could this be?"
"She did not faint from the cold," Imperial Physician Liu said solemnly. "Her body is far too weak. And this morning, she consumed something that a cold‑bodied patient must never take. That is what caused her collapse. What did she eat?"
The room fell silent.
Then the maid blurted out, "She drank chrysanthemum tea!"
Imperial Physician Liu's eyes widened.
"Chrysanthemum tea? No wonder! People with cold constitutions must never drink it. Why was she given such a thing?"
The room erupted in whispers.
Tang Ke Xin had said the same thing earlier.
The old madame, flustered, tried to defend herself. "Was it not the cold? And she did not take her medicine—"
Imperial Physician Liu cut her off.
"Her body is too weak for strong medicine. What did the doctor prescribe?"
The earlier physician recited the list of herbs.
Imperial Physician Liu's face drained of colour.
"Thank the heavens she did not drink it. With her current condition, that medicine would have worsened her cold, yes—but more importantly, it would have destroyed what little strength she has left. She might not have survived."
A collective gasp filled the room.
Imperial Physician Liu continued, "When I examined her just now, I found that her cold had already improved significantly. Had she not drunk the chrysanthemum tea, she would not be in such danger."
All eyes turned—slowly, inevitably—toward Tang Ke Xin.
Ye Lan Jue's gaze lingered on her, deep and unreadable.
Was this coincidence?
Or something far more extraordinary?
Tang Ke Xin drew a steadying breath. Under the Third Prince's gaze, even the air felt taut. She cleared her throat lightly and turned to Imperial Physician Liu.
"Can Imperial Physician Liu save my mother?"
Her voice was calm, but beneath it lay a quiet urgency. She hoped—foolishly—that the question might divert attention from the earlier accusations. Yet she also knew that nothing escaped the Third Prince's notice. If he had already seen through her, no amount of misdirection would help.
"Yes, yes—Doctor Liu, is there a way?" the Prime Minister asked anxiously, leaning forward as though the answer alone could steady his heart.
Imperial Physician Liu sighed, his brows knitting together.
"There is a method to rouse Madam, but her constitution is far too weak. Most medicines would do her more harm than good. To wake her is simple… but it would damage her body further."
A murmur of despair rippled through the room.
Tang Ke Xin lowered her gaze thoughtfully. Then, in a tone of careful innocence, she said, "When I visited the temple, Master Hui Yuan mentioned that my own body was cold. He said that moxibustion with wormwood could help. Would such a method be suitable for Mother?"
She deliberately invoked the monk's name. If anyone questioned her knowledge, she could always attribute it to Master Hui Yuan's teachings.
In truth, she knew perfectly well that the Prime Minister's wife could not withstand strong medicine. Anything potent enough to force consciousness would only weaken her further. But moxibustion—gentle, warming, restorative—was ideal.
In her previous life, it had been a common therapy for cold constitutions and chronic weakness.
Imperial Physician Liu's eyes brightened at once.
"Excellent! Yes, yes—this is entirely feasible." He nodded repeatedly, his expression full of approval. "Who would have thought Miss Tang understood such matters?"
Tang Ke Xin's lips twitched. Either Imperial Physician Liu was going deaf in his old age, or he had completely ignored her mention of Master Hui Yuan.
But before she could dwell on it, she felt a shift in the air.
The Third Prince was watching her.
Not with suspicion.
Not with coldness.
But with a faint, unmistakable smile.
It was subtle—barely a curve at the corner of his lips—but it transformed his usually austere face into something startlingly… human.
As Tang Ke Xin lifted her eyes, her gaze collided with his.
And she froze.
He was smiling.
At her.
She had never seen him smile like that—quiet, restrained, yet impossibly charming. It was as though winter itself had softened for a single heartbeat.
Her breath caught.
She suddenly realised, with a jolt, that when he smiled…
…he was devastating.