CHAPTER 116 — WHEN HEARTS BECAME DANGEROUS
In the ancient world, eighteen years of age marked the threshold of adulthood. Men married young — fifteen, sixteen, sometimes even earlier — and by eighteen, most noble sons already had wives, concubines, or at the very least, warm‑bed attendants arranged by their families.
Ye Lan Chen, though unmarried, was no exception to the expectations of his station. The Fourth Prince's residence housed several young women assigned to serve him, as was customary for a prince of his rank.
Which was precisely why the Emperor's gaze slid toward him now — slow, assessing, and tinged with something almost amused. Ye Lan Chen blinked back at him, utterly oblivious, his expression as guileless as a child's.
But when the Emperor's eyes shifted to Tang Ke Xin, his expression changed again — this time into something far stranger.
Ye Lan Chen, innocent as ever, sensed none of this. He simply tilted his head, puzzled by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Ye Lan Jue, however, understood everything.
His expression darkened instantly.
This woman…
She dared to speak of such matters — in front of the Emperor, the princes, the entire court — with a composure that bordered on audacity. A woman should not have such knowledge. A woman should not speak of such things.
And yet she had.
Calmly.
Precisely.
Without a single tremor in her voice.
The Emperor finally voiced the question lingering in everyone's mind.
"But how does a young girl like you know all this?"
Tang Ke Xin lowered her gaze respectfully. "This humble girl has recently been reading books on case‑solving, Your Majesty. One of the cases described a situation very similar to Imperial Concubine Ning's. I merely applied what I learned."
It was the only explanation she could offer — the only one that would not raise suspicion. She could hardly tell them she was a modern military doctor with forensic training.
The Emperor nodded slowly. "I see. Unusual reading for a young lady… but your deductions were sound."
Ye Lan Jue gave a soft, derisive snort.
Books?
She expected him to believe she learned that from books?
He remembered that night — the temple, the storm, the heat of her breath, the marks he had left on her skin.
Books?
Hardly.
But the Third Prince said nothing. He merely folded his arms, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of irritation and something far more dangerous.
The Emperor continued, "Then how did you know the palace maid used a pillow to suffocate Imperial Concubine Ning?"
Tang Ke Xin answered without hesitation.
"When I examined the pillows in the room, I found one with a faint fragrance — the same scent Imperial Concubine Ning wore today. The others did not have it. That pillow was used to cover her face."
She paused, then added:
"A strong man would not use a pillow to kill. He would use his hands. And if he had done so, Imperial Concubine Ning would not have been able to grab anything from him. A man's height and reach would make it impossible for her to tear off a button. Therefore, the killer must have been a woman — someone small and close to her when it happened."
The Emperor's eyes widened. "And the time of death? How did you determine when she died?"
Tang Ke Xin's tone remained calm, though she chose her words carefully.
"By observing the changes in the body, Your Majesty. The signs were clear enough."
Ye Lan Chen nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes! Xin'er told me about this last time. She's very clever!"
Tang Ke Xin nearly choked.
She had indeed explained corpse changes to him once — in the simplest, most innocent terms possible — and he had remembered every word.
The Emperor stared at her with open astonishment. "I did not expect a girl to understand so much."
Imperial Concubine Ming's face twisted with resentment. "She only just recovered from her illness. How could she possibly know such things?"
Before Tang Ke Xin could respond, a familiar voice cut in — smooth, amused, and utterly shameless.
"Perhaps she is a goddess descended to the mortal realm."
Tang Ke Xin's eye twitched.
The Third Prince had repeated her own teasing words back at her — publicly, no less. The court erupted into murmurs.
The Emperor laughed heartily. "Hahaha! Who can say? Her recovery was miraculous enough."
Imperial Concubine Ming's expression darkened further. The Emperor had never spoken of her with such warmth.
The Emperor straightened, his tone turning formal. "The matter is settled. Everyone may withdraw. I will handle the rest."
The Empress nodded. "I will go in and see Cai'er—"
"Do not go in," the Emperor said gently, catching her wrist. "She is gone. It will only distress you. Return and rest."
His voice was soft, tender — a tone he rarely used.
Imperial Concubine Ming's teeth clenched so hard her jaw trembled. The other consorts exchanged jealous glances.
The Empress hesitated, then nodded. "Very well."
As she turned to leave, her gaze fell upon Tang Ke Xin and Ye Lan Jue standing side by side. Something flickered in her eyes — a mixture of hope and worry.
"Chen'er," she said softly, "escort Xin'er back."
Ye Lan Jue stiffened.
Ye Lan Chen brightened instantly. "Oh! Yes, Mother!"
He stepped forward eagerly.
But before he could take more than two steps, the Empress spoke again.
"Your Highness," she said quietly, "I have a few words to say to you."
Ye Lan Jue froze.
Tang Ke Xin also stopped, glancing back instinctively.
"You two go on ahead," the Empress said firmly.
Ye Lan Chen obeyed at once. "Oh… all right."
Tang Ke Xin followed him, though she cast one last look toward Ye Lan Jue.
He stood motionless, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure.
The Empress watched him carefully. When Tang Ke Xin disappeared from sight, she finally spoke.
"Third Prince."
Ye Lan Jue turned his head slightly, his eyes cold and sharp.
The Empress sighed inwardly. His expression alone made her chest tighten. She had known him since childhood — brilliant, proud, restrained, and dangerous. A man who hid his heart behind layers of ice.
"I wish to speak with Your Highness about matters of the heart."
Ye Lan Jue said nothing.
But the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed him.
The Empress continued, her voice gentle but firm.
"Xin'er's heart is simple. She does not understand love. What she felt for Mu Shaoyi was not love — merely obsession. She herself admitted she does not love him."
Ye Lan Jue's eyes flickered.
He agreed.
He had seen it.
He had known it.
The Empress pressed on.
"I only want Xin'er and Chen'er to be happy. I have never wished for Chen'er to compete for power. I will not allow Xin'er to become a pawn in political struggles."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Just as Prime Minister Tang said — as long as Xin'er is happy, nothing else matters."
Ye Lan Jue's lips curved into a cold, humourless smile.
"Does Your Majesty believe I need to rely on such things?"
The Empress blinked, startled.
He continued, his voice low and edged with steel.
"Do you think I would marry Tang Ke Xin for advantage? For power? For the throne?"
The Empress swallowed.
She had not meant it that way — but she understood why he reacted so sharply. The Third Prince had always been proud. He would never accept the implication that he needed a woman's family to bolster his position.
"I know Your Highness's abilities," she said softly. "I know you do not need such support."
Ye Lan Jue's gaze softened by a fraction.
The Empress hesitated, then asked the question that had been weighing on her heart.
"Then… what does Your Highness think of Xin'er?"
Silence fell.
The Third Prince's eyes darkened, shadows flickering within them.
What did he think of her?
She infuriated him.
She challenged him.
She walked into danger without fear.
She lied with a straight face.
She deduced truths no one else could see.
She haunted his thoughts.
She had been in his arms — trembling, breathless, unforgettable.
And she did not even know it.
His jaw tightened.
What did he think of her?
Too much.
Far too much.
But he did not answer.
Not yet.