CHAPTER 126 — WHEN HIS TRAP FAILED TO CATCH HER
Tang Kexin moved before thought could catch up with instinct.
Her hand flashed forward—clean, sharp, decisive—cutting through the still air with a speed that would have startled even a seasoned fighter. Anyone else would have been caught. Anyone else would have been helpless beneath the precision of her strike.
But the moment her fingertips grazed the cold, smooth edge of his silver mask, she stopped dead.
Because at this distance—so close she could feel the faint warmth of his breath—she finally saw his eyes.
Calm. Controlled. Almost indifferent.
And yet… there it was.
A flicker. A glimmer. A tiny, unmistakable spark.
Anticipation.
Not shock. Not fear. Not even mild annoyance.
But a quiet, deliberate expectation—like a man watching a chess piece move exactly where he had predicted it would.
As though he had been waiting for her to do this.
As though every word he had spoken earlier had been a carefully placed lure, cast with patient precision, waiting for her to bite.
And with his level of skill, he could have avoided her touch without the slightest effort. No matter how sudden her movement, he possessed the power to evade her with ease.
Yet he had not moved. Not even a fraction.
He had allowed her to reach him.
He had allowed her to touch the mask.
He had allowed her to come close enough to see the faint, treacherous light in his eyes.
Earlier, he had said only his wife could see his true face. If she removed the mask now, he would have every excuse—every justification—to force her into marriage.
If he truly was the Sect Leader of the Suo Yan Sect, then with the power he commanded, even the Emperor would think twice before crossing him. If he wished to take her as his wife… could she truly escape?
If her suspicions were correct, she was standing on the edge of a trap of her own making.
Bloody hell.
He was far too sinister.
And she had almost fallen straight into it.
Fortunately, she was not so easily caught.
"Sect Leader's mask is very beautiful," she said lightly, withdrawing her hand with a grace so smooth it looked intentional. "The craftsmanship is exquisite."
Her fingertips traced the edge of the mask—not to remove it, but to make her retreat appear natural, appreciative, even admiring.
His eyes flickered. The corner of his mouth twitched beneath the silver.
Her intention was painfully clear.
She had come to remove the mask. She had stopped at the final moment. She had refused to step into his trap.
"If you like it," he murmured, voice soft as velvet, "I can give it to you."
There was a faint strain beneath the words—a subtle tug of unwillingness, as though he were still trying to tempt her into reaching for it again.
Tang Kexin smiled politely.
"No. A gentleman does not take what belongs to another. Sect Leader should keep it."
She withdrew her hand entirely and returned to her seat, spine straight, expression serene.
Now she was certain—absolutely certain—that this man had dug a pit for her from the very beginning, waiting for her to tumble in.
The world was full of schemes and traps. Modern or ancient, nothing ever changed.
But she had survived modern scams far more sophisticated than this. Compared to those, this was child's play.
The man exhaled quietly and reached, almost absently, for the teacup before him.
Tang Kexin's lips curved.
"If Sect Leader is truly thirsty," she said sweetly, "I can avert my eyes for a moment. After you've finished your tea, we may continue our discussion."
Her tone was considerate. Her meaning was a blade.
She would not give him another chance to trick her into seeing his face.
"Very well," he murmured, lips curving faintly. His voice was smooth, deep, threaded with a warmth that brushed dangerously close to seduction. "Let us speak of business."
Tang Kexin nodded.
"Sect Leader already knows why I am here. I hope you can tell me what compensation you require."
Her goal was simple: return the jade pendants to Mu Shaoyi without implicating herself. Whether this man was truly the Sect Leader or not, he already knew far too much. There was no point in hiding anything.
He leaned back slightly.
"There is no shortage of silver in the Suo Yan Sect," he said. "Nor any lack of treasures."
Tang Kexin blinked.
What was that supposed to mean? Was he refusing the commission entirely?
But before she could speak, he continued.
"However," he said, voice dropping, "the Suo Yan Sect does lack a Sect Leader's wife. I wonder if Miss Tang is interested."
He leaned forward—deliberately, unmistakably—closing the distance between them. From this angle, she could see his eyes clearly through the mask. He made no attempt to hide the heat within them.
"No," she said instantly.
No hesitation. No wavering. No polite softening.
Her refusal was sharp enough to cut.
She narrowed her eyes.
This man was not teasing. He was serious. Far too serious.
And if he continued like this, there was no point in discussing anything further.
"Since Sect Leader is not sincere," she said coolly, rising to her feet, "I shall take my leave."
This man was far too unreliable. She would need another way to resolve the matter.
"Wait."
His voice changed—gone was the teasing warmth. In its place was a rare seriousness.
"I agree."
Tang Kexin paused.
"Compensation?" she asked, turning back.
This was the most important part. She would not allow herself to be trapped by vague promises.
"I do not want your reward," he said with a sigh, sounding almost helpless.
"This will not do," she replied firmly. "My dear brother is meticulous in settling debts. And since I do not know the Sect Leader personally, if you refuse compensation on our first meeting, I can only assume there is a hidden motive."
No reward meant a trap. And she refused to walk into one.
"Then give me something," he said at last, sounding as though he were humouring a stubborn child.
Tang Kexin's lips twitched.
He sounded like he was shooing away a beggar.
"Regarding the appropriate amount," she said, "I believe Sect Leader knows best. Let us follow the standard rules."
"Must you be so precise?" he asked, leaning back with a sigh.
"It is necessary," she replied without hesitation.
He already knew too much. She needed everything written clearly to avoid future trouble.
He exhaled slowly, then lifted his hand—five fingers extended.
"Fifty thousand taels of silver?" Tang Kexin asked.
Her tone was calm, but her eyes gleamed with calculation.
Even for the Suo Yan Sect, ten thousand taels was the usual starting price. Fifty thousand was high—deliberately high—but she needed to ensure he would not trouble her again.
His brows drew together.
Fifty thousand taels was not a trivial sum. Even the Prime Minister would struggle to produce such an amount at once.
Yet she had named it without blinking.
He studied her carefully.
"Very well," she said, steeling herself. "Fifty thousand it is."
His eyes widened behind the mask.
She had agreed? To fifty thousand?
Where on earth would she obtain such a sum?
"You can produce that much silver?" he asked, frowning.
"This is my concern," she replied calmly. "It has nothing to do with Sect Leader."
His eyes darkened.
Nothing to do with him?
"If Sect Leader has no objections," she continued, "let us draw up a contract."
He stilled.
"A… contract?"
He had never heard the word before, but he understood her meaning instantly.
This woman was cautious to the extreme—meticulous, guarded, unwilling to leave even the smallest flaw.
Was this truly the foolish young lady she had once been?
He doubted it very much.