CHAPTER 145: A BLAD DROWN IN SILENCE
Ye Lanjue's eyes narrowed to slits, a cold gleam flickering in their depths. Her words echoed in his mind with infuriating clarity.
He would never like her? Never?
Why was she so certain?
Why did she speak as though his heart were something she had already measured, weighed, and dismissed?
"Tell me," he said at last, his voice low and edged with steel, "why do you believe that this king would never like you?"
The Third Prince—who rarely wasted breath, who guarded his words as though they were precious metal—had spoken openly, in public, no less. The crowd held its breath.
Tang Kexin blinked rapidly, lips pursing in thought. Then, with disarming directness, she asked:
"Could it be that Your Highness likes me?"
Her tone was light, almost curious, but the question struck Ye Lanjue like a blow. For a heartbeat, he simply stared at her, stunned by her audacity.
He had intended to answer—perhaps even to challenge her further—but before he could speak, a shrill voice cut through the air.
"Tang Kexin, you slut! Stop pretending!"
Feng Qingyan, wild‑eyed and blood‑stained, lunged at Tang Kexin like a maddened creature. Her hand shot out, fingers curled like claws.
Ye Lanjue's eyes darkened with murderous intent. He moved instantly, pulling Tang Kexin behind him, ready to strike Feng Qingyan down—
But he never needed to.
Before his hand could lift, Feng Qingyan's body jerked violently. A spray of blood burst from her back, arching through the air like a crimson fountain. She collapsed to the ground, a gaping wound torn through her spine.
Gasps erupted.
Screams followed.
This was the imperial palace.
The Emperor and Empress were present.
And someone had just killed the Marquis's daughter in full view of the court.
Who would dare?
All eyes turned instinctively to Ye Lanjue—but he held no weapon.
Then the crowd saw him.
The Northern Imperial Guard.
He stood calmly, sword in hand, its blade slick with fresh blood. He wiped it clean with a handkerchief, his expression utterly unchanged, as though he had merely swatted an insect.
A collective shudder rippled through the assembly.
Tang Kexin's heart tightened.
Had he acted because Feng Qingyan had attacked her?
Was this… connected to her?
She studied the guard's face. He was composed, almost serene, as though killing a noblewoman in a foreign palace were the most ordinary task in the world.
Her gaze shifted to the Northern Prince.
He, too, remained expressionless. Not a flicker of surprise, not a hint of concern. It was as though the dead woman had nothing to do with him at all.
The Emperor's face darkened.
"What does the Northern Kingdom mean by this? Why has your guard killed the Marquis's daughter in my palace? Prince, I expect an explanation."
The Northern Prince did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the guard.
"Explain yourself."
The guard bowed slightly.
"Displeasing to the eye. Too noisy."
His tone was flat, almost bored. His arrogance was breathtaking.
A stunned silence fell.
He had killed Feng Qingyan… because she was noisy?
It was absurd. Insulting. Unthinkable.
And yet, beneath his cold indifference, Tang Kexin sensed something else—something sharp and fiercely protective.
He had acted for her.
Even if he was not yet certain of her identity, he would not allow anyone to harm her. If he had been certain, Feng Qingyan would not have died so quickly. He would have made her suffer.
The Empress swayed slightly, her hands trembling beneath her sleeves. She exhaled shakily, relief and dread warring within her.
The Emperor's jaw tightened.
"Prince of the Northern Kingdom, she was the Marquis's only daughter. How do you expect Master Hou to—"
"If Master Hou has grievances," the guard interrupted coolly, "he may bring them to me."
The Emperor fell silent.
The guard's words were outrageous—yet he spoke them with the authority of someone who feared nothing, not even the throne of Great Yuan.
And the Northern Prince did not contradict him.
Which meant the guard's status was far from ordinary.
Tang Kexin watched him quietly.
This man was dangerous—cold, loyal, and utterly unrestrained.
And for reasons she did not yet understand… he was watching her.
CHAPTER 146: IN THE WAKE OF CHAOS, A CONFESSION DEMANDED
Barely an hour had passed, yet the palace had already descended into chaos. The Crown Prince lay limp and broken, while Feng Qingyan—once the capital's celebrated beauty—had been struck down before the eyes of the Emperor and Empress. No one could have foreseen such a disastrous turn of events.
And still, not a single person recognised the battered, swollen figure as the Crown Prince himself.
The imperial physician finally arrived, breathless and pale, only to discover that Feng Qingyan was already beyond saving.
"See to him," the Emperor said heavily, gesturing toward the unconscious man on the ground. His voice carried the weight of resignation.
Imperial Physician Liu bowed and knelt beside the Crown Prince. After a careful examination, his expression grew grave.
"Your Majesty… though his external injuries appear severe but manageable, his internal injuries…"
The physician hesitated, sweat gathering at his brow.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed. He remembered the Third Prince's earlier palm strike—swift, precise, and delivered with unmistakable intent.
"Take him away," the Emperor ordered.
The guards stepped forward. As they lifted the Crown Prince, his body sagged like a boneless sack. A jade pendant slipped from his waist, catching the light.
Imperial Concubine Ming gasped theatrically.
"Oh! Isn't that the Crown Prince's jade pendant? Why does he have it?"
Her voice trembled with feigned innocence, but her explanation was riddled with holes. How would a concubine know what the Crown Prince wore beneath his robes? And why would she be staring at his waist so attentively?
The Emperor's gaze snapped to the pendant. He had never seen it before. Yet Ming Fei claimed she had.
More attentive than his own father, is she?
He strode forward, suspicion tightening his features.
Tang Kexin's lips twitched.
Even his own father cannot recognise him. Truly, the beating was thorough.
Imperial Physician Liu examined the man again, then bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty… this truly is the Crown Prince."
The Emperor's face drained of colour.
His own son—reduced to this.
"His injuries?" he demanded.
"The Crown Prince's spine is fractured," the physician replied quietly. "He will be unable to move for some time."
"Can he be treated?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. With cooperation and time, he may recover the ability to walk. But his body will remain weak."
The Emperor exhaled slowly.
Weakness he could accept. Paralysis he could not.
"Take him away. Physician Liu, attend to him at once."
As the Crown Prince was carried off, the Emperor cast a brief glance at Ye Lanjue. His expression remained unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes.
He knew Ye Lanjue's temperament. The Third Prince was not reckless. If he had struck, he had done so with purpose—and with restraint. The Emperor could not fault him for that.
The Empress, meanwhile, stared at the Crown Prince's retreating form in shock. She had not imagined the disfigured man to be her stepson. His injuries were far worse than she had feared.
"Your Majesty… what of Miss Feng?" she asked softly, looking at Feng Qingyan's lifeless body.
The Emperor's expression hardened.
"Inform the Marquis. Have her body returned to the Hou Mansion."
There was nothing else to be done.
He turned to the Northern Prince, offering a strained smile.
"Today's events have been… unfortunate. I fear the palace has made a poor impression."
The Northern Prince inclined his head, perfectly composed.
"In that case, this king shall take his leave."
He had achieved what he came for. The banquet no longer mattered.
The Emperor exhaled in relief.
"Escort the Prince."
Before leaving, the Northern Prince cast one last glance at Tang Kexin—cool, assessing, unreadable—before turning away.
The Emperor then addressed his guards.
"Inform the court officials that today's banquet is cancelled."
Once the Northern delegation departed, he turned to Ye Lanjue.
"Come with me to the study."
"Yes," Ye Lanjue replied, his voice low.
Tang Kexin watched him follow the Emperor, worry tightening her chest. The Crown Prince's injuries were severe. Even if no one had recognised him earlier, suspicion would inevitably fall upon Ye Lanjue.
Why had he acted so openly?
Why had he struck with such force?
It was unlike him to hand others a weapon against himself.
"Xin'er, you should return," the Empress said gently. Her tone was more cautious than usual—less intimate, more guarded.
Tang Kexin sensed something amiss but nodded.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Mother, I will escort Xinxin," Ye Lanchen said, stepping forward. His eyes lingered on Tang Kexin, troubled.
The Empress nodded and departed.
Tang Kexin followed Ye Lanchen out of the palace. The air felt heavy, as though the day's events had left a stain upon the very walls.
"Xin Xin… you…" Ye Lanchen began, but faltered. His steps slowed, his expression conflicted.
"What is it?" Tang Kexin asked, puzzled. She had never seen him so hesitant.
"Do you truly not like the Third Prince?" he blurted at last.
Tang Kexin stared at him.
Why is everyone asking me this?
"I have no intention of marrying anyone," she said calmly. "Nor do I have anyone I like."
She had been thrust into this world without warning. She had no idea what the future held. Romance was the last thing on her mind.
She had lived nearly thirty years in the modern world without a boyfriend. Why would she suddenly be eager to marry at eighteen in an ancient one?
"So you lied earlier," Ye Lanchen muttered, half sulking, half relieved. "You never liked him."
Tang Kexin sighed inwardly.
This child is far too earnest.
She continued walking, but Ye Lanchen hurried after her.
"Then… who do you like now?"
"I just told you," she replied, exasperated. "I don't want to marry, and I don't like anyone."
He fell silent, absorbing her words.
---
Kunning Palace
The Empress dismissed her attendants and entered her private chambers alone. Her hands trembled as she closed the door behind her.
Too much had happened today.
Far too much.
She needed a moment to breathe, to think, to steady herself.
But when she stepped inside, she froze.
A man was already seated in her room.
And for a heartbeat, the Empress felt her heart stop.