CHAPTER 110 — WHEN JEALOUSY WALKED BESIDE HER
The shock that rippled through the banquet hall was immediate and suffocating. The palace maid's trembling voice still hung in the air like a blade suspended above the court, and for a moment, no one dared to breathe.
The timing could not have been worse.
A death in the palace was always a matter of grave consequence, but a death announced here, in front of the Emperor, the Empress, the princes, the ministers, and half the nobility of the capital — that was a catastrophe.
And the palace maid had chosen this moment to report it.
Or… someone had chosen it for her.
Tang Ke Xin's gaze sharpened as she studied the girl. The maid's head was bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the floor, her shoulders shaking violently. She looked terrified — but fear alone did not explain her timing.
Was she genuinely panicked?
Or had she been instructed to deliver the news at the most explosive moment possible?
Tang Ke Xin's instincts whispered the latter.
The Emperor's expression darkened instantly. He rose to his feet with such force that his chair scraped loudly across the stone floor. The sound echoed through the courtyard like a warning bell.
Every official present stiffened. No one dared to speak. No one dared to move.
The Emperor took a single step forward — a silent command that he was going to Ning He Palace at once.
The Empress, pale with shock, hurried after him. Her steps were unsteady, but she forced herself to keep pace. Imperial Concubine Ning had been under her protection. If something had happened to her… the consequences would be severe.
Imperial Concubine Ming's lips twitched upward in a fleeting, satisfied smile before she quickly masked it with a look of concern and followed the Empress. The other consorts trailed behind, their eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity.
A scandal of this magnitude was the lifeblood of the inner palace.
If the accusation proved true, the Fourth Prince's life would hang by a thread — and the Empress's position would be shaken to its core.
The rest of the court remained kneeling or seated, frozen in place.
But Tang Ke Xin rose immediately.
She did not hesitate. She did not pause to consider propriety. She simply stood and moved to follow the Emperor.
A hand shot out to stop her.
Ye Lan Jue.
His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.
Tang Ke Xin turned to him, her eyes darkening. She understood the logic — a prince could protect himself by remaining uninvolved. But she was not a prince. She was not bound by the same political constraints.
And Ye Lan Jue — of all people — should have known she would not sit still.
Before she could speak, he stood as well.
"This king will accompany you."
Tang Ke Xin blinked.
She had expected him to restrain her. She had not expected him to rise with her.
"But Your Highness…" she began, thinking of propriety, of appearances, of the danger of involving himself in a scandal that could shake the dynasty.
He cut her off with a calm, steady voice.
"Imperial Physician Liu, follow us. We must see the situation clearly."
The words were casual, but the meaning beneath them was sharp as a blade.
He did not believe the Fourth Prince capable of such a crime.
He suspected a plot.
And he intended to uncover the truth.
By summoning the imperial physician, he made his intentions public — he was not going to defend the Fourth Prince blindly. He was going to investigate.
Tang Ke Xin understood immediately.
He was protecting Ye Lan Chen — but he was also protecting himself. With the physician present, no one could accuse him of meddling improperly.
"Everyone else will disperse," Ye Lan Jue said coldly, his gaze sweeping across the courtyard. "Until this matter is resolved, if even a single false rumour spreads… do not blame this king for lacking mercy."
The threat was quiet, but it struck like thunder.
The Third Prince rarely spoke so directly. His reputation alone was enough to silence a room. But now, with his voice edged in steel, the effect was terrifying.
Several officials bowed so quickly their foreheads nearly hit the ground.
The Crown Prince watched him with narrowed eyes. He had not expected Ye Lan Jue to intervene — and certainly not to stand so openly beside Tang Ke Xin. His gaze flicked to their joined hands, and something cold and ruthless flashed in his eyes.
Tang Ke Xin felt a surge of gratitude.
"Thank you," she said softly.
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Ye Lan Jue's steps faltered. He turned his head sharply, his eyes narrowing.
"You are thanking this king?" he murmured, his voice low and strangely tense. "Why?"
His tone was not pleased. It was… irritated. Almost offended.
Tang Ke Xin blinked, taken aback.
Why was he angry?
She opened her mouth, but he spoke first, his voice dropping even lower.
"Are you thanking me on behalf of Ye Lan Chen?"
Ah.
So that was it.
Tang Ke Xin almost laughed.
She had not expected him to be jealous at a time like this.
She said nothing, but her silence only darkened his expression further. He released her hand abruptly and strode ahead, his shoulders stiff.
Tang Ke Xin hurried after him.
The Crown Prince followed closely behind, his gaze fixed on the two of them with growing hostility.
Tang Ke Xin glanced sideways at Ye Lan Jue. His jaw was tight, his expression stormy.
She sighed inwardly.
"About earlier," she said quietly, "that 'thank you' was not on behalf of His Highness."
Ye Lan Jue stopped walking.
The oppressive aura around him dissipated instantly.
He turned to her, his eyes no longer cold but… searching.
"Then why?" he asked, his voice softer.
Tang Ke Xin hesitated. "I… don't know. It simply felt right."
It was the truth. She had not thought. She had simply acted.
Ye Lan Jue stared at her for a long moment.
Then he leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Tang Ke Xin… if something happened to this king today, would you do the same for me?"
Tang Ke Xin froze.
Of all the questions she had expected, this was not one of them.
"Your Highness would never—"
"This king is asking," he interrupted, "yes or no."
His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unyielding.
He was jealous.
He was insecure.
He wanted to know if she would stand for him the way she had stood for Ye Lan Chen.
Tang Ke Xin exhaled slowly.
"…I would."
His eyes lit with a quiet, dangerous satisfaction.
But before the moment could settle, she added lightly:
"After all, we are still working together."
His smile froze.
His expression darkened.
He looked as though he wanted to strangle her.
Tang Ke Xin blinked innocently. "Am I wrong?"
Ye Lan Jue's voice dropped to a low growl. "Tang Ke Xin, this king truly wishes to strangle you."
She stared at him, bewildered.
What had she said now?
He glared at her, then — with a sudden, exasperated movement — reached out and flicked her forehead.
Not hard.
Just enough to make his point.
Tang Ke Xin's eyes widened. "You—!"
He ignored her indignation and strode ahead.
Behind them, the Crown Prince watched the exchange with a tightening jaw. He could not hear their words, but he saw the closeness, the familiarity, the ease.
His hands curled into fists.
Tang Ke Xin and Ye Lan Jue continued walking, their steps quickening as they approached Ning He Palace.
The Emperor and Empress had already entered.
Tang Ke Xin did not hesitate. She stepped inside immediately.
She needed to see the scene with her own eyes.
Only then could she understand what had truly happened.
Ye Lan Jue followed her, his expression unreadable.
The sight that greeted them was shocking.
Imperial Concubine Ning lay on the bed, her body covered by a blanket — but the exposed skin on her arms and shoulders was mottled with bruises. Dark, ugly marks that spoke of force and violence.
There were no knife wounds.
No signs of poison.
No blood.
Only bruises.
And beside the bed—
Ye Lan Chen.
His clothes were dishevelled, hanging loosely off his shoulders. His hair was mussed, his chest marked with scratches — the kind left by a woman's nails.
Tang Ke Xin stopped in her tracks.
Even she, who had expected a trap, had not expected this.
She had thought Ye Lan Chen had merely been found in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She had not imagined a scene staged with such precision — such cruelty — such intent to destroy.
Her heart sank.
This was no accident.
This was a deliberate framing.
And the consequences…
Would be devastating.