CHAPTER 103 — THE CHALLENGE BENEATH THE LANTERNS
Although Tang Ke Xin felt a flicker of guilt beneath the little princess's blunt interrogation, she did not allow it to show. Her lashes lowered, hiding the brief turmoil in her eyes, and she replied with calm decisiveness:
"Of course not."
Just three simple words—no embellishment, no hesitation.
Ye Lan Jue's brows lifted ever so slightly. A faint, knowing smile glimmered in his eyes. Her answer had been too quick, her gaze too evasive. She was lying. And he knew it.
It seemed increasingly likely that the woman from that night had indeed been her.
As for the missing wound on her shoulder—he had already consulted Divine Doctor Lu. The physician had explained that such a mark could be removed in a short time, though the methods were extreme: scraping the skin, peeling it, wearing it away.
When Ye Lan Jue had seen her shoulder yesterday, the skin had been reddened—freshly abraded. She had done it herself.
This woman was ruthless.
Even to her own body.
He also knew the Crown Prince had confronted her about that night, pretending to be the man involved. That must have been why she had erased the evidence.
Ye Lan Jue wondered, with a strange twist of amusement, what she would have done had he been the one to tell her the truth. Would she have scraped away the evidence all the same? Would she have fled from him with equal determination?
Knowing her temperament, the answer was undoubtedly yes.
"Your Majesty," Tang Ke Xin said suddenly, her voice clear and steady, "this humble girl requests that Imperial Physician Liu examine me. I do not believe this man's diagnosis."
Her tone was neither panicked nor pleading—merely firm.
A woman with a guilty conscience would never dare demand a second examination in front of the entire court.
The Emperor nodded at once.
"Very well. Imperial Physician Liu, examine Miss Tang again."
Imperial Physician Liu stepped forward with solemn composure.
All eyes turned toward them.
Ye Lan Jue's hand tightened imperceptibly.
If she truly was the woman from that night…
If she truly had conceived…
It had only been a month.
She might not even know.
But Tang Ke Xin's expression remained utterly calm—almost serene.
Not a trace of fear.
Where did she find such confidence?
Had she never considered the possibility of pregnancy?
Imperial Physician Liu finished quickly. He bowed deeply.
"Reporting to Your Majesty—Miss Tang is not pregnant."
A collective exhale swept through the hall.
He added, with a pointed glance at the trembling Imperial Physician Li:
"Perhaps Miss Tang's breathing was unstable earlier. Imperial Physician Li must have misdiagnosed."
Tang Ke Xin's lips curved coldly.
"Misdiagnosed? He mistook unstable breathing for pregnancy? What kind of medical skill is that?"
Her voice rang through the hall like a blade.
"He is an imperial physician. How many lives might be lost under such incompetence?"
Even if Imperial Physician Li had been coerced, he had still acted without conscience. And if he served the Crown Prince, then he was a danger to the Empress as well.
Imperial Physician Liu lowered his head, ashamed.
He knew very well that Imperial Physician Li had not made a mistake—he had lied.
"Your Majesty, this subject begs forgiveness," Imperial Physician Li cried, collapsing to his knees. "This subject was wrong—gravely wrong!"
Tang Ke Xin stepped forward, her expression turning icy.
"If you were merely wrong, you would be a quack. But you have served in the palace for years. You are not incompetent. You deliberately fabricated a diagnosis. That is not a mistake—it is a violation of medical ethics."
Her voice was calm, but each word struck like thunder.
The hall fell silent once more.
"Is a man without medical ethics worthy of being a physician?" she asked softly.
Imperial Physician Li trembled violently.
He could no longer beg for mercy.
Shame crushed him.
Even Imperial Physician Liu felt his heart tighten.
In this palace, how many physicians could truly uphold their ethics?
Tang Ke Xin turned her gaze to the Crown Prince.
"Your Highness, what was it you wished to say earlier?"
Her tone was light—almost indifferent—but the meaning was sharp.
Everyone had heard the Crown Prince's half‑spoken words.
Even though the false pregnancy had been disproven, his implication lingered like poison.
The Crown Prince's face darkened.
His plan had collapsed before his eyes.
"I… have forgotten," he said stiffly.
"Oh? Forgotten?" Tang Ke Xin replied with a bright, innocent smile. "That is fortunate. For a moment, I thought Your Highness intended to say you would take responsibility for me."
The hall erupted in silent shock.
Even the Emperor blinked.
Tang Ke Xin pressed a hand to her chest, feigning lingering fear.
"I was truly startled. I thought Your Highness meant to claim I was carrying your child."
The Crown Prince's jaw clenched.
He could not refute her without incriminating himself further.
"If my words offended Your Highness," Tang Ke Xin added sweetly, "please forgive me."
"…No," the Crown Prince forced out.
"Good," she said brightly. "Then I am relieved."
Her smile was dazzling—so dazzling it made the Crown Prince's eyes burn with hatred.
Ye Lan Jue, however, looked at her with open admiration.
This woman had dismantled the Crown Prince's scheme with effortless grace.
The Emperor's voice cut through the tension.
"Drag Imperial Physician Li away. One hundred strokes. No treatment. Expel him from the palace."
The guards obeyed immediately.
The Emperor then waved a hand.
"Clean up. Continue the banquet. Do not let that fool spoil the mood."
The hall slowly returned to order.
Tang Ke Xin knew that if she had not understood medicine, she would have been ruined today.
The Crown Prince's scheme had been vicious—precisely the sort that would destroy an innocent woman.
But she had been prepared.
---
When everyone had settled again, Feng Qingyan suddenly rose to her feet.
"Your Majesty," she said, bowing gracefully, "this humble daughter has a request. Miss Tang's illness has healed, and she is no longer the same as before. I greatly admire her. Therefore, I wish to ask Miss Tang for guidance."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
Guidance?
No—this was a challenge.
A talent competition.
The Great Yuan Dynasty was open‑minded; such contests were common at banquets.
Scholars debated poetry, generals sparred, noble ladies competed in zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting.
But to challenge Tang Ke Xin?
Feng Qingyan was renowned for her mastery of the four arts.
Tang Ke Xin… was known for knowing none of them.
The hall buzzed with disbelief.
How could the two possibly compete?