CHAPTER 135: THE MOMENT INTERRUPTED
"Tang Kexin…"
The moment her words left her lips, Ye Lanjue's expression darkened. His gaze sharpened, narrowing with a dangerous glint. What infuriated him most was not her defiance—it was her utter indifference. As though nothing he said, nothing he did, could stir even the faintest ripple in her heart.
His voice rose, edged with the unmistakable sound of teeth grinding.
"Actually, Your Highness needn't shout," Tang Kexin replied, taking several steps back as she rubbed her ear. "I can hear perfectly well."
Her tone was light, almost casual. The fear she once held toward him had evaporated entirely. She had realised that fear served no purpose—it only exposed weakness. Better to face him with a steady heart, to treat him as she would anyone else.
Ye Lanjue's eyes narrowed further.
He had wanted to see the real her.
But the real her made him want to shake her, throttle her, and kiss her all at once.
He despised her indifference.
He despised how unaffected she was by him.
"I should return the Third Prince's calligraphy," Tang Kexin said briskly, holding out the sheet Dong'er had delivered earlier. "It belongs to Your Highness. Best to avoid unnecessary trouble."
She wanted distance—clear, unmistakable distance. She had no desire to be entangled with him again. The earlier fiasco had been lesson enough.
As for the ten copper coins… she would pretend that humiliation had never happened.
"What is it?" Ye Lanjue asked softly, dangerously. "Why are you so eager to distance yourself from this king?"
"I have nothing to do with Your Highness," Tang Kexin replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. "Naturally, there is no need to be close."
Ye Lanjue's jaw tightened.
He had the sudden, vivid urge to strangle her.
Nothing to do with him?
She dared to say such a thing?
"Are you certain," he murmured, stepping forward, "that you have no relationship with this king?"
"I'm certain," she said firmly.
In the next instant, he closed the distance between them. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His head dipped, his breath brushing her cheek.
"Th‑Third Prince…"
The Prime Minister's trembling voice shattered the moment.
He stood frozen at the entrance, eyes wide with disbelief.
The Third Prince—cold, untouchable, feared by all—was holding his daughter. And from the angle, it looked very much as though he had been about to kiss her.
What in heaven's name was happening?
Ye Lanjue released her at once, though his expression remained thunderous.
Tang Kexin, recovering quickly, almost smiled.
The Prime Minister had arrived at precisely the right moment.
The attendant rushed in, having heard the commotion. One look at his master's icy expression made his heart plummet. He should have been guarding the courtyard. He had been careless.
"Your Highness," the Prime Minister said hastily, "a message has come from the palace. An envoy from the Northern Kingdom has arrived. Does Your Highness wish to enter the palace?"
"Northern envoy?" Ye Lanjue's eyes narrowed. "Why has the Northern Kingdom sent an emissary?"
The Northern Kingdom was the most formidable power under heaven. More than twenty years ago, its emperor had conquered the surrounding nations with terrifying speed—north, south, east, west—until the world trembled beneath his banner.
It was said he had been on the verge of unifying the entire continent when, suddenly, inexplicably, he halted his campaign. Since then, the Northern Kingdom had remained silent, neither invading nor provoking.
The Great Yuan Empire had little contact with them. Why send an envoy now?
"I do not know the reason," the Prime Minister admitted. "But if we can establish good relations, it would benefit the Great Yuan Empire greatly."
"And why," Ye Lanjue said coldly, "would the Northern Emperor offer such an advantage so easily?"
The Prime Minister hesitated. "Nineteen years ago, the Northern Emperor declared he would no longer invade any nation. No one knows why. But he is a man of his word. He would not break such a vow after nineteen years."
Tang Kexin's eyes flickered with interest.
She had heard the rumours—the Northern Emperor, unmatched in power, feared by all, yet unmarried even past forty. No empress, no concubines, no heirs. A ruler with no harem was unheard of.
A strange man indeed.
"Your Highness should go to the palace," the Prime Minister urged. "This matter is important."
Tang Kexin lowered her gaze, lost in thought. She did not react at all.
Ye Lanjue looked at her, waiting—hoping, perhaps—for some sign that she cared he was leaving.
But she did not even lift her eyes.
His jaw tightened.
Did he truly hold no place in her heart?
He turned and left, his cloak sweeping behind him.
Tang Kexin remained motionless, still deep in thought.
"Xin'er," the Prime Minister said softly once Ye Lanjue was gone.
"Mm?" She looked up.
"You… you haven't fallen for the Third Prince, have you?"
Tang Kexin blinked, then nearly laughed. "No."
How could she possibly like Ye Lanjue? She spent half her time avoiding him. She had no desire to be entangled with him, let alone fall in love.
The Prime Minister exhaled in relief. "Good. Your mother does not wish for you to marry into the imperial family. It is a complicated world. If you can avoid it, avoid it."
"I understand," Tang Kexin said. And she meant it.
The Prime Minister studied her face and felt reassured. Xin'er truly had no romantic interest in the Third Prince.
---
In the palace.
"Your Majesty, the eunuch from the Emperor's side reports that His Majesty will not be coming tonight," a palace maid said cautiously within Kunning Palace.
"Very well," the Empress replied calmly.
"I also heard that envoys from the Northern Kingdom have arrived," the maid added.
At those words, the Empress's expression changed sharply.
CHAPTER 136: A BITE CARVED IN SHADOWS
The Empress had been quietly stitching a garment when her hand suddenly faltered. The needle slipped, piercing her skin. A bead of bright crimson welled up instantly.
"Your Majesty, what is it?" the palace maid gasped, rushing forward in alarm.
"I am fine."
The Empress withdrew her hand, dabbing the blood away with a handkerchief. Yet the hand holding the cloth trembled ever so slightly.
"Your Majesty, allow this servant to fetch medicine—let me tend to the wound properly."
"There is no need." The Empress waved her away with a faint, weary gesture. "Leave me. I wish to rest."
Since her closest attendant's passing, the Empress had kept only one or two attendants by her side. Even they sensed the loneliness that clung to her like a shadow.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Though clearly uneasy, the maid withdrew.
The moment the door closed, the Empress's composure collapsed. Her body sagged into the chair, one hand clutching her chest as though she could scarcely draw breath.
After so many years of fragile peace, she had dared to hope it might last. But now… even that seemed an extravagant dream.
Night fell. Though summer still lingered, she felt cold to her bones.
---
Deep into the night, at the Feng Residence.
"Miss, how much longer will you continue drawing? You've painted so much already."
The young maid wrung her hands anxiously. Her mistress had been painting since morning, yet showed no sign of stopping.
"Leave. I don't need you hovering over me."
Feng Qingyan's expression was dark, her brush strokes violent. The ink bled across the paper in harsh, shadowed strokes—an echo of her turbulent mood.
"Miss, at least eat something first…" the maid tried again, voice trembling.
"I said get out!"
Feng Qingyan's eyes flashed. She seized the inkstone and hurled it at the girl. It struck her waist with a sickening thud.
"Get out! And tell everyone else to stay away. I want no disturbances."
The maid bowed, clutching her side, and fled.
Alone, Feng Qingyan's expression twisted with bitterness.
Why?
Why had she worked so hard—painting, chess, zither, dance—perfecting every skill, every virtue, all to be worthy of him?
She had believed that if she were exceptional enough, he would surely choose her.
Yet he had fallen for that useless Tang Kexin.
Why?
In what way was Tang Kexin superior to her?
Her brush slashed across the paper, destroying her earlier paintings in a frenzy of ink and fury.
She had learned everything for him.
And he had never once looked her way.
"What is it? Still dissatisfied?"
A voice—low, unfamiliar—cut through the silence.
Feng Qingyan spun around, startled. A man stood in her room, though she had no idea when he had entered. He wore a black mask, his clothing equally dark, giving him an ominous, almost spectral presence.
"Y‑you… who are you?" she stammered, instinctively stepping back.
"I am here to help you."
His eyes narrowed behind the mask.
"Help me? With what?" she asked, bewildered.
"You wish to marry Ye Lanjue, do you not?"
Her breath caught.
How did he know?
"What are you implying?"
"Do you know why Ye Lanjue treats Tang Kexin differently?"
He sat down, his gaze drifting to the ruined paintings.
"Why?" Feng Qingyan demanded. She had longed for this answer.
"Because," the man said slowly, "a month ago, at the temple, Tang Kexin entered Ye Lanjue's room in the middle of the night. They had a physical relationship."
Feng Qingyan froze.
Her face drained of colour.
"What? That's impossible!"
She had been injured that night and had not accompanied them. She had never imagined such a thing could have occurred.
No—no, it made no sense.
The Third Prince despised women who threw themselves at him. If Tang Kexin had truly entered his room, he would have killed her on the spot. How could anything have happened between them?
"Impossible," she whispered.
"Miss Feng," the man said with a mocking edge, "do you truly understand men? Especially a man like Ye Lanjue?"
She stiffened.
"If you had taken the initiative earlier—boldly, decisively—you might already be his wife."
"No," she insisted. "His Highness is not that kind of man."
"Hmph."
The man's voice dripped with disdain. "A man like Ye Lanjue will not tolerate a woman throwing herself at him. But if she challenges his limits—if she forces him into a situation he cannot control—then flees before he can react… what do you think happens?"
Feng Qingyan's breath hitched.
His words struck too close to truth.
"But how could Tang Kexin succeed? She could never enter his room."
"Are you unaware," the man said softly, "that there are medicines capable of clouding a man's senses?"
Feng Qingyan's eyes widened.
"You mean… Tang Kexin drugged him?"
"Do you think she would have succeeded otherwise?"
Feng Qingyan trembled.
"So you came to tell His Highness?"
The man gave her a look of pure contempt.
"Do you think he needs you to tell him?"
"Then what do you want?"
"That night, Ye Lanjue left a bite mark on the woman's shoulder. A mark he intended to use to find her later. Tang Kexin has already removed hers. He suspects her, but he cannot confirm it."
Feng Qingyan's breath quickened.
"If you bear that same mark," the man continued, "he will believe you were the woman from that night. And then… he will have no choice but to marry you."
Her eyes shone with desperate hope.
"But… how do I convince him?"
"Come here."
He beckoned her closer.
Temptation overpowered caution. Feng Qingyan stepped forward.
The man seized her shoulder, yanked her down, and tore her clothing aside. Before she could react, his teeth sank into her flesh.
"Ah!"
She cried out, pain shooting through her shoulder.
A perfect, unmistakable bite mark bloomed on her skin.
She hurriedly pulled her clothing back into place, cheeks flushed.
"Since they had a physical relationship," the man said coldly, "you cannot remain a virgin. You are still untouched, are you not?"
Feng Qingyan froze.
She had not considered this.
"You know Ye Lanjue is not easily deceived. Even with the bite mark, if your body is unbroken…"
She trembled violently.
"But," the man murmured, rising to his feet, "I can help you with that as well."
His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into his embrace.