CHAPTER 133: A DAY HER TEMPER BROKE ITS CHAIN
"His Highness… this subordinate does not carry ten copper coins."
The attendant looked genuinely distressed. He rarely carried loose change; his purse held only large banknotes. Who could have predicted that His Highness—the Third Prince of the realm—would one day require ten copper coins?
Tang Kexin's eyes narrowed to slits. Her lips pressed into a thin, furious line. She said nothing. She simply turned on her heel and walked away.
Forget it. I don't want it. I refuse to accept even a single coin from him. I still have two days left—I don't believe I can't gather fifty thousand silver taels in three days.
The attendant stared after her, stunned.
Miss Tang had actually turned her back on His Highness and left without a word?
Ye Lanjue's lips twitched faintly.
Her temper was truly something to behold.
Dong'er, still shaken, hurried after her mistress.
"Miss… you didn't even greet His Highness. Is that really wise?" Dong'er whispered anxiously. The memory of Tang Kexin's boldness made her heart tremble.
"What else should I have done?" Tang Kexin shot back, her voice low and simmering. "Stay there and let him humiliate me further?"
Dong'er swallowed and wisely changed the subject. "Miss… shall we return to the manor?"
"Yes. Home." Tang Kexin exhaled sharply. She had spent the entire day running about, only to end up penniless. She needed a new plan—one that would allow her to gather fifty thousand silver taels without anyone, especially the Third Prince, discovering her intentions.
Otherwise, she would never succeed.
---
When Tang Kexin and Dong'er stepped back into the Prime Minister's estate, fate decided to mock her further.
Standing beside the Prime Minister was none other than Ye Lanjue—the man who had tried to pay her ten copper coins.
Tang Kexin's gaze slid past him as though he were a decorative pillar. She intended to walk straight by.
"Stop."
The Prime Minister's voice cracked like a whip. "Can't you see the Third Prince? You don't even know how to salute?"
Tang Kexin halted, but she did not turn around. She certainly did not bow.
The Prime Minister's expression darkened. He assumed she must have caused trouble outside and was now too guilty to face him.
"Speak," he demanded. "What have you done?"
At those words, something inside Tang Kexin snapped.
Her eyes flashed. The fire she had been suppressing all day roared to life.
She spun around, lifted her chin, and declared boldly, "Yes. I sold the Third Prince's calligraphy. So what? What of it?"
Dong'er nearly fainted.
The attendant nearly dropped the banknotes.
Even the Prime Minister's soul seemed to leave his body.
Ye Lanjue, however, looked… entertained.
A faint, unreadable light flickered in his eyes.
He had never wanted her to fear him.
He preferred her like this—unfiltered, unrestrained, gloriously alive.
The attendant silently applauded her courage. Miss Tang was truly formidable.
"You—you—!" The Prime Minister sputtered, pointing a trembling finger at her. "You dared to sell the Third Prince's writing? You—you will be the death of me!"
Tang Kexin blinked.
So the Prime Minister hadn't known.
She had assumed Ye Lanjue had tattled on her, but he had said nothing.
She shot Ye Lanjue a cold, accusing glance.
Fox. Cunning, silent fox. He didn't say a word, but he came here to watch the show.
"Tang Kexin, you grow bolder by the day!" the Prime Minister raged. "Selling the Third Prince's calligraphy—how dare you!"
Tang Kexin sighed dramatically. "Father, Mother said she wanted osmanthus cake. I bought it and was just on my way to deliver it."
The Prime Minister froze.
His expression softened instantly.
"Is that so?"
"Yes." Tang Kexin lifted the box of osmanthus cake as proof.
The Prime Minister's anger melted away. "Your mother loves osmanthus cake. Go quickly—don't keep her waiting."
He was clearly relieved. With the Third Prince present, he dared not punish her harshly. Better to let her escape while the opportunity remained.
"Thank you, Father." Tang Kexin smiled sweetly—then shot Ye Lanjue a quick, triumphant glance before sweeping away.
Ye Lanjue's lips curved.
Her courage was growing indeed.
---
Tang Kexin went straight to the Prime Minister's wife's chambers. Unfortunately, the old madame was also present.
The moment the old woman saw her, her expression soured. "Look at you! Your attire is sloppy, your posture disgraceful. Your sister is far more ladylike."
Tang Kexin's eyes dimmed.
The old madame had always disliked her. Nothing she did was ever right.
"Mother, Xin'er has only just recovered," the Prime Minister's wife said gently. "Please don't be too harsh."
"Recovered?" the old madame scoffed. "If she's recovered, why does she still behave like a lunatic? I hear the Mu family intends to break the engagement. With her appearance, what respectable man would marry her?"
Tang Kexin walked past her without a glance. "Who cares? Who says a woman must marry? I'd rather stay by Mother's side."
She placed the osmanthus cake before the Prime Minister's wife. "Mother, I bought your favourite."
The old madame's face darkened further. She glared at Tang Kexin and stormed out.
The Prime Minister's wife sighed softly and took Tang Kexin's hand. "Xin'er… you have suffered."
Tang Kexin blinked.
The words felt strangely heavy—too heavy for a mother speaking to her daughter.
"Mother's words are too serious," she murmured.
"Xin'er…" The Prime Minister's wife hesitated, as though something weighed on her heart. But in the end, she only sighed again. "You are becoming more sensible."
Tang Kexin sensed there was more left unsaid, but she did not press.
She stayed with her mother for an hour before returning to her courtyard.
Dong'er rushed out to meet her, face pale with shock. "Miss… His Highness sent this."
She held out a sheet of paper.
Tang Kexin unfolded it—and froze.
It was the calligraphy she had sold earlier.
He had bought it back.
And sent it to her.
Why?
What was he planning?
What did he want her to do with it?
Sell it again?
Tang Kexin shuddered at the memory of earlier.
No. Absolutely not.
Even if she sold it ten times, she would never see a single coin.
The Third Prince would simply take it back.
So now… what was she supposed to do?
CHAPTER 134: THE WHISPER BENEATH HIS SMILE
"Miss… what does His Highness mean by this? Why would he send the calligraphy back?" Dong'er asked, bewildered. The Third Prince's behaviour was, as always, impossible to fathom.
"Who knows what that man is plotting," Tang Kexin muttered darkly. "He's a sly, shadow‑dwelling fox—petty, vindictive, and utterly insufferable. The best way to deal with him is to ignore him entirely."
Her anger had not yet cooled. The humiliation of earlier still burned beneath her ribs, and in the privacy of her own courtyard—with only Dong'er present—she allowed her true feelings to spill out. She had not spoken his name, so even if someone overheard, they would not know whom she was cursing.
But every time she thought of Ye Lanjue, something inside her ignited. The usually composed Tang Kexin found herself transformed into a small, furious volcano whenever he appeared.
What she did not realise was that the very man she was condemning had stepped silently into the courtyard.
His attendant, had remained at a distance—far enough not to intrude, but close enough to witness the impending disaster.
Dong'er's face drained of colour.
Young miss… you're scolding the Third Prince. Loudly. Repeatedly. And with adjectives no one has ever dared use on him.
A sinister fox?
Despicable?
Petty?
This was the Third Prince—legendary, untouchable, feared by the entire capital. No one, not even the Emperor, had ever spoken of him in such terms.
Yet the man himself… smiled.
A faint, unreadable curve touched Ye Lanjue's lips. Whether it was amusement or the calm before a storm, no one could tell.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
His voice—low, deep, and dangerously smooth—brushed against her ear like velvet dipped in ice.
Tang Kexin froze.
Her spine stiffened.
She turned slowly, dread pooling in her stomach.
Ye Lanjue stood beside her, close enough that she could see the fine lines of his impossibly handsome face. Shock flickered across her features before she hastily bowed.
"Th‑this humble daughter greets Your Highness."
She had no idea how much he had heard. Given his extraordinary hearing, likely all of it. In such a situation, the only sensible approach was to appear meek and harmless.
After all, she had been caught insulting someone behind their back. Her conscience was not entirely clear.
"A treacherous, despicable, shameless, petty, sinister villain like me," Ye Lanjue murmured, "is hardly worthy of such a generous gift, is he?"
His tone was light—almost conversational—but the meaning was unmistakable.
He had heard every word.
Tang Kexin's mind raced.
She blinked innocently, looking around as though searching for the culprit.
"Despicable? Shameless? A sinister villain? Who? Who said that? Who could possibly be so rude?"
Dong'er nearly fainted.
The attendant's lips twitched violently.
Ye Lanjue's brows lifted, his smile widening in a way that made the air feel colder.
"Could it be," he asked softly, "that this king misheard?"
His voice was calm—too calm. As though he were discussing the weather rather than her insults.
"Yes, yes! Your Highness must have misheard," Tang Kexin said quickly. "Sometimes what one sees is not the truth, and what one hears is even less reliable. One mustn't believe everything."
"And what," Ye Lanjue murmured, stepping closer, "should this king believe?"
He leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek. His voice softened, becoming dangerously gentle.
"I believe… in you."
The words slid into her ears like silk, unsettling and intimate. Tang Kexin swallowed hard. He was too close—far too close. His face filled her vision, flawless and impossibly near.
"Tell me," he said, his tone a quiet command, "what can this king believe in you?"
Her heart thudded painfully.
What did he want?
What did he expect her to say?
"Tang Kexin," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers, "say something that will make this king believe you."
The attendant stiffened.
He grabbed Dong'er by the arm and dragged her away before she could protest.
"What are you doing? Why are you pulling me?" Dong'er hissed.
"Do you think it's appropriate for you to stay there?" he snapped. "If Miss Tang answers His Highness, it will involve matters no one else should hear."
"But I must protect the miss!"
"If His Highness wished to harm her, do you think you could stop him?" he retorted. "If he wanted her dead, she would have died a hundred times already."
Dong'er fell silent.
He was right.
The Third Prince had never harmed her mistress—despite having countless opportunities.
---
Back in the courtyard, Tang Kexin stared at Ye Lanjue, her pulse racing.
He wanted her to say something he could believe?
Why?
What did it matter whether he believed her or not?
"Your Highness," she said slowly, "whether you believe me or not… has nothing to do with me."
Her voice was steady, her gaze unwavering.
She had decided she would no longer cower before him.
She had been caught insulting him—fine. She would accept that. But she would not bow her head in fear.
She owed him nothing.
And he had nothing to do with her.
At least… that was what Tang Kexin believed.