CHAPTER 78 —- A DANCE OF PERFECT DECEPTION
Tang Ke Xin's lips curved into a cold, knowing smile.
Aunt Xi's accusation rested entirely on the words Ye Lan Chen had spoken the previous night. But Tang Ke Xin had been careful—she had instructed him not to let anyone else overhear.
The Empress and Ye Lan Chen trusted each other implicitly.
Neither would betray her.
Which meant Aunt Xi's words were now nothing more than empty noise.
"Your Majesty," Tang Ke Xin said softly, blinking with an expression of pure innocence, "your memory is not always perfect. Sometimes you forget what you have said. And surely… a false decree aimed at only one person is hardly worth making a fuss over?"
The Emperor blinked, taken aback.
"… a false decree aimed at only one person is hardly worth making a fuss over?" he repeated, surprised. Was she truly dividing forged decrees into categories?
"But if it only concerns one person," she continued lightly, "then at most it is merely borrowing Your Majesty's authority to frighten someone who has a guilty conscience."
Her tone was gentle, almost playful—yet every word was crafted to soothe the Emperor's pride.
The Emperor's stern expression softened.
"Girl, your tongue grows sharper by the day."
The Empress exhaled in relief.
"Your Majesty, even so, she still forged—" Imperial Concubine Ming began, unwilling to let the matter go.
"That was my intention."
A new voice cut across the courtyard.
Tang Ke Xin's brows twitched.
What is he doing here?
The palace gates had opened for morning court, and officials were already entering. It was not unusual for Ye Lan Jue to appear in the palace at this hour—but his timing was impeccable.
"Besides," he added calmly as he stepped inside, "she was imitating my decree, not His Majesty's."
His gaze swept briefly across Tang Ke Xin before settling on Aunt Xi, his eyes turning cold and sharp.
"Perhaps Aunt Xi remembered incorrectly. Or perhaps… she intended to frame me."
Aunt Xi paled.
Tang Ke Xin nearly laughed aloud.
The dignified Third Prince was lying through his teeth without the slightest blush.
He was even better at pretending than she was.
"What is going on?" the Emperor demanded, frowning. He had rushed here upon hearing of trouble in Kunning Palace, yet he still did not understand the situation.
"Yesterday," Ye Lan Jue said smoothly, "this son discovered a bloody fingerprint on the Golden Phoenix Dagger. Presumably left by the murderer. So I borrowed Sir Qin's special paper to verify it."
He ignored the matter of the forged decree entirely, redirecting everyone's attention to the dagger.
Aunt Xi trembled.
Fingerprint? Special paper?
Had there truly been a fingerprint?
"Miss Tang," Ye Lan Jue said politely, "please open the dagger and show His Majesty the imprint."
"Oh. Yes." Tang Ke Xin nodded.
But inwardly, she was startled.
How did he know she had fabricated the fingerprint?
He seemed to see through everything she did.
Aunt Xi's knees nearly buckled.
Tang Ke Xin placed the dagger on the table, turning the imprint toward Aunt Xi.
The older woman's face drained of colour.
If only Tang Ke Xin had said it, she might have doubted.
But now even the Third Prince confirmed it…
"This servant… this servant…" Aunt Xi stammered, stepping back.
"Aunt Xi, what is the matter?" the Empress asked, her voice trembling. She was intelligent—she understood what this meant—but she could not bear to believe it.
"Your Majesty… forgive me… this servant deserves death…" Aunt Xi collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
"It was you?" The Empress's voice cracked. "You? How could it be you?"
"Your Majesty, spare me… they forced me… they took my grandson… if I did not obey, they would kill Little Xu…"
Her tears fell like rain—fear, shame, despair all tangled together.
"What happened? Who ordered you?" the Empress demanded.
Before Aunt Xi could answer, Eunuch Li hurried inside.
"Your servant greets His Majesty, the Empress, and Imperial Concubine Ming."
"What is it?" the Emperor asked coldly.
"Aunt Xi's family sent word… her grandson died this morning. They ask if Aunt Xi may return home."
Aunt Xi screamed.
Her grief tore through the courtyard like a storm.
"My grandson! My grandson! Who did this? I want revenge! I want revenge!"
She bolted toward the door like a madwoman, but the guards seized her and dragged her back.
"Hahaha… dead… he's dead… my grandson is dead…" she shrieked, her mind shattered.
Tang Ke Xin's heart sank.
This was no coincidence.
The mastermind had planned everything perfectly.
They had silenced Aunt Xi without killing her—leaving her alive, but unable to speak coherently.
Whoever orchestrated this possessed terrifying power.
"Summon Imperial Physician Liu," the Emperor ordered, voice like ice.
The physician examined her and confirmed she had gone mad.
The Emperor ordered her imprisoned.
He comforted the Empress briefly before leaving for morning court.
Imperial Concubine Ming and the others followed.
Tang Ke Xin turned to Ye Lan Jue.
"May I have that paper?" she asked. "The one you brought last night."
He smiled faintly.
"With such a special item, of course you want it."
"Is it truly useful?" she asked. Even in the modern world, she had never heard of such a thing.
"It's fake," he replied lightly.
Tang Ke Xin's expression darkened.
She was speechless.
If it was fake, why had he acted so convincingly earlier?
She glared at him.
He only smiled more.
"If you want the real one," he murmured, leaning closer, "I have it."
"Do you?" she asked warily.
"Yes."
He offered no further explanation.
"A condition, then?" she said flatly.
"Smart," he replied, lips curving.
"Your Highness should go to morning court," she snapped.
The Empress added, "The Third Prince should not be late."
"Yes," he said, and left.
After he was gone, the Empress approached Tang Ke Xin with a weary sigh.
"Xin'er, come with me."
Her tone was gentle—maternal.
Tang Ke Xin followed her into the inner chamber.
The Empress closed the door, walked to the bed, and lifted the curtains. From beneath the mattress, she retrieved a small lacquered box.
She opened it.
Tang Ke Xin's breath caught.
Inside lay a jade bracelet—smooth, luminous, unmistakably priceless.
The Empress took Tang Ke Xin's hand and slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.
Tang Ke Xin opened her mouth to protest—
But the Empress pressed down firmly on her wrist.
"Do not take it off," the Empress said quietly. "You must wear it. And remember—if you ever find yourself in danger, you must find a way to show it to others."
Her voice was soft, but the weight behind her words was unmistakable. There was something else in her tone too—something fragile, almost trembling beneath the surface.
Tang Ke Xin looked down at the jade bracelet encircling her wrist. It was cool against her skin, yet the Empress's fingers, still resting lightly upon it, were warm. Too warm.
The Empress knew what this gift meant.
She knew that once she placed this bracelet on Xin'er's wrist, certain secrets could no longer remain hidden.
But fear had driven her to this point.
She was afraid.
Afraid for her.
Afraid that when danger came—and it surely would—she would be powerless to protect her.
She could endure many things.
She could swallow humiliation, weather storms, and face the cruelty of the palace.
But she could not—would not—allow harm to come to her.
Her voice softened further, almost breaking.
"I can overlook many matters… but I cannot allow you, child, to be placed in danger."
Tang Ke Xin understood.
This bracelet was not merely a token.
It was a shield.
A silent declaration.
Whoever bears this is under my protection.
Tang Ke Xin felt the Empress's grip tighten ever so slightly, as though she feared Xin'er might remove it the moment she turned away.
She would not.
Not now.
Not after seeing the fear hidden behind the Empress's composed façade.