CHAPTER 93 — WHEN THE PRINCE FORGOT HIS IMAGE
The Third Prince's sudden rise was so abrupt that Feng Qingyan, who had been gracefully pouring wine for him, jolted in fright. The wine jug slipped in her hand, tilting sharply as a stream of wine splashed uselessly onto the deck.
Gasps rippled across the barge.
Every gaze turned toward him.
Ye Lan Chen, halfway through feeding Tang Ke Xin a piece of fruit, froze as well.
But Tang Ke Xin noticed none of it.
She was far too ill—her world spinning, her stomach twisting, her limbs weak as water. Her entire focus had narrowed to the fruit in Ye Lan Chen's hand, the only thing that might ease the torment clawing through her.
When Ye Lan Chen hesitated, she instinctively leaned forward, lips parting to bite the fruit directly from his fingers.
She never reached it.
A strong arm swept around her waist, lifting her clean off the deck and away from the fruit she had been so desperately reaching for.
"Wha—?"
Her voice was soft, breathless, almost childlike in its complaint. She turned her head, annoyance flickering weakly in her eyes.
But she had no strength to resist.
No strength to glare.
Barely enough strength to remain conscious.
Ye Lan Jue looked down at her.
Her face was chalk‑white, drained of all colour. Her lips—normally soft and rosy—were pale as paper. Beads of cold sweat gathered on her brow and the tip of her nose. The day was cool, the lake breeze colder still; she wore thin garments, yet she was sweating as though fevered.
She was not merely uncomfortable.
She was suffering.
He had assumed she was exaggerating, perhaps a little uneasy.
But this—this was far worse than he had imagined.
Her clinging to Ye Lan Chen had not been affection.
It had been desperation.
Without a word, Ye Lan Jue tightened his hold and leapt from the deck.
---
"Your Highness!"
Even Ming Xun cried out in shock.
The barge had already drifted far from the shore.
Yet Ye Lan Jue, carrying a full-grown woman, moved across the lake as though stepping on solid ground—borrowing force from the passing boats, his movements swift and precise.
The entire vessel erupted into stunned silence.
The Third Prince—who had never allowed a woman within arm's reach—had just swept Tang Ke Xin into his arms and carried her away in full view of the capital's elite.
Feng Qingyan's smile vanished entirely.
Her face darkened, her hands trembling beneath her sleeves.
She had waited by his side for years.
He had never warmed to her, but he had tolerated her presence.
He had never allowed another woman near him.
Until now.
And he had carried Tang Ke Xin away—
in front of her.
How could he?
How could he treat her so?
He knew her feelings.
He knew she had guarded him faithfully for years.
Yet he had chosen someone else.
---
Tang Ke Xin, held securely in his arms, felt the dizziness ease slightly—only to be overwhelmed by a new sensation.
The scent of wine.
He had drunk heavily on the boat.
The faint aroma clung to him.
Her stomach lurched violently.
"I… feel awful…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Endure it a little longer," Ye Lan Jue said, his tone unexpectedly gentle.
But she could not endure.
The movement across the lake, the smell of wine, the rocking beneath her feet—it was too much.
"Ugh—"
"Tang Ke Xin, don't you dare—"
He realised too late what she was about to do.
Before he could finish the warning, she turned her head—
—and vomited all over him.
All over his immaculate white robes.
All over the Third Prince of the realm.
The world seemed to freeze.
Tang Ke Xin exhaled shakily, finally feeling a sliver of relief.
She looked down at the mess on his clothes, then up at his face—dark, thunderous, murderous.
A tiny spark of wicked satisfaction flickered in her eyes.
Serves you right, she thought.
You forced me onto that cursed boat.
Ye Lan Jue's gaze sharpened.
"You're gloating," he said flatly.
"What? No—absolutely not."
She shook her head weakly.
If she admitted it, he might toss her straight into the lake.
How did he always see through her?
Every time?
"Hmph. We'll settle this later."
His voice was cold, but not nearly as cold as before.
He landed on the shore with her still in his arms.
Ming Xun hurried after him—and froze.
Miss Tang had vomited.
On His Highness.
On His Highness.
The Third Prince, who despised being touched, who would not allow anyone near his belongings—
had just been drenched in vomit.
And he had not thrown her into the lake.
This was… unbelievable.
---
"Why don't I… help wash Your Highness's clothes?" Tang Ke Xin offered weakly, more out of guilt than sincerity.
Ming Xun nearly choked.
His Highness's clothes?
Was she mad?
But before either of them could respond—
Ye Lan Jue shrugged off his outer robe and tossed it directly into her arms.
Tang Ke Xin stared, stunned.
He had actually taken it off.
In public.
His undergarment was thin, almost translucent, clinging to the lines of his chest.
Her gaze drifted downward—
Black trousers.
Thank heavens, she thought.
If they were white, this would be a scandal.
She nearly dropped the robe in horror, but one look at his expression—dark, warning, dangerous—made her clutch it gingerly between two fingers, as though it were a venomous snake.
Her disdain was obvious.
Ye Lan Jue's face darkened further.
Ming Xun was speechless.
Women would fight to wash His Highness's clothes—
and Miss Tang was holding them like contaminated laundry.
Still, she had agreed to wash them.
That was something.
Until—
Tang Ke Xin's next action froze Ming Xun to the core.
Ye Lan Jue's eyes narrowed sharply.