CHAPTER 171 — NIGHT OF THE BRIDAL CHAMBER
The moment Tang Kexin's expression shifted, Ye Lanjue caught it.
Of course he did. He always noticed the smallest flicker in her eyes, the tiniest change in her breathing. His gaze sharpened for a heartbeat, then softened into something unreadable. The corner of his mouth lifted — not quite a smile, more a private reaction he didn't bother explaining — and he simply tightened his hold on her hand.
Without a word, he led her down the corridor towards the bridal suite.
Tang Kexin followed, half dazed, half relieved.
He's just escorting me to the room, she told herself. That's all. Once I'm inside, he'll go off to do whatever he needs to do.
She didn't resist. She didn't overthink it. She let him guide her.
The moment they stepped into the room, she slipped her hand out of his and waved him away with a dramatic flourish.
"Alright, that's it. Performance over. You can go now — back to your guests, back to your… whatever."
Her tone was light, almost cheerful.
She genuinely believed the act was finished — the bows, the procession, the public display. She had played her part, he had played his, and now they could both return to their separate lives.
Ye Lanjue stared at her for a moment, his expression twitching.
What kind of bride chased her groom out of the bridal suite the moment they stepped inside?
This woman was unbelievable.
Still, he had things to handle outside — guests, formalities, obligations. He would deal with them quickly.
And then he would come back.
Tonight, she wasn't escaping him.
He gave her one last look — something between amusement and exasperation — and left the room.
The door clicked shut.
Tang Kexin exhaled so hard her shoulders dropped.
Finally. Peace.
She sank into the nearest chair and immediately reached up to remove the phoenix crown. The thing was gorgeous, yes — but it felt like she'd been balancing a small anvil on her skull all day. Her neck practically sighed in relief.
Getting married is exhausting, she thought, rubbing her temples.
She'd been dragged out of bed before sunrise, dressed, painted, paraded, and she hadn't eaten a single proper meal since morning. Her stomach felt like a hollow drum.
Then she spotted the table.
A full spread of food — steaming, fragrant, beautifully arranged.
Her eyes lit up.
This was meant to be shared between bride and groom, but she knew perfectly well Ye Lanjue wouldn't be joining her. He had other priorities. Other people.
So she didn't hesitate.
Within minutes, she had demolished most of the dishes, eating with the single‑minded focus of someone who had been starving for hours. By the time she finished, she felt human again.
Warm. Full. Alive.
She stood, stretching, and took a slow look around the room.
My room, she realised. This is where I'll be living now.
It was unfamiliar, yes, but beautifully arranged — elegant without being cold, spacious without feeling empty. The more she looked, the more she liked it. Someone had put real thought into the details.
She wandered around, touching fabrics, examining ornaments, letting the atmosphere settle around her. For the first time since the ceremony began, she felt herself relax.
Outside, the sky darkened. Guests began to leave. The manor quietened.
Inside the bridal suite, Tang Kexin yawned.
She was exhausted.
She slipped out of the heavy wedding dress and into her inner garments, ready to collapse into bed.
He won't come, she told herself. He'll be with Nangong Yi. I'll sleep alone, just like always.
She was halfway to the bed when the door opened.
She spun around.
Ye Lanjue stepped inside.
He paused, taking in the room — the empty dishes, the discarded wedding dress, and then her, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but her thin inner layer.
His eyes darkened.
Slowly, deliberately, the corner of his mouth lifted.
Tang Kexin blinked.
"What are you doing here? Did you forget something? Or did you walk into the wrong room?"
She genuinely believed he'd made a mistake.
After all, Nangong Yi was staying in the manor tonight. Surely Ye Lanjue would be heading there.
Ye Lanjue shut the door behind him with a soft click.
"Nangong Yi has already left," he said.
Tang Kexin frowned.
"He left? Why would he leave so suddenly?"
Such a perfect opportunity for the two of them — wasted.
She almost felt sorry for them.
Ye Lanjue gave her a look that could have set fire to the curtains.
"Since Mayor Nangong has left," she continued, misreading him entirely, "you must be very upset."
He stared at her.
Yes, he was upset — but not because of Nangong Yi.
Because of her.
He stepped further into the room.
Tang Kexin's eyes widened.
"You— what are you doing? Why are you coming in here? Even if Nangong Yi left, you can go to another room. Our marriage is fake. You don't have to force yourself to stay with me."
"I'm not forcing myself," he said, voice low, almost amused.
She froze.
"Your Highness," she said quickly, "our marriage is fake. We're a fake couple. We can't sleep together."
She jumped up and blocked his path, arms outstretched like a human barricade.
He looked at her — at her thin inner garments, at the flush on her cheeks, at the way she was trying so hard to keep him out — and something in his expression shifted.
"If we sleep in separate rooms on our wedding night," he said calmly, "and someone finds out, what do you think will happen?"
Tang Kexin hesitated.
He had a point.
The Empress.
The Prime Minister's wife.
The entire palace.
If word got out that the newlyweds didn't even share a room…
It would be a disaster.
"This is your manor," she argued weakly. "If you don't want anyone to know, who would dare spread it?"
He gave a soft, humourless laugh.
"You know very well there are people watching this place."
Her breath caught.
She thought of the hidden enemy who had harmed the Empress before.
If that person was lurking here…
"Fine," she said at last. "Then we sleep separately. You take the floor, or I take the floor."
Ye Lanjue's eyes gleamed.
"There's no need for the floor," he said, glancing at the bed. "It's large enough."
He stepped closer.
"Unless…" he murmured, "you're afraid."
Her heart thumped.
"What— what would I be afraid of?"
He smiled — slow, dangerous, knowing.
"That," he said softly, "is what I'd like to find out."
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CHAPTER 172 — NIGHT OF THE BRIDAL CHAMBER
"Nope."
Tang Kexin exhaled, relieved. She looked him up and down, reminding herself firmly: He likes Nangong Yi. He likes men. There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of.
A man who preferred men wouldn't suddenly develop an interest in her.
She was safe. Completely, utterly safe.
Ye Lanjue's expression didn't shift.
"Since you're not afraid," he said calmly, "we can sleep together. What's the issue?"
He spoke as if discussing the weather.
"It's autumn. The nights are cold. Sleeping on the floor will make you ill, and if a servant sees you, it'll cause unnecessary gossip."
He gestured toward the bed — large, luxurious, easily big enough for several people.
"This bed is more than spacious enough. There's no need for concern."
Then he paused, turned to her, and asked — far too casually —
"What exactly are you worried about?"
Tang Kexin's heart gave a small, traitorous jump.
Right. He likes men. Why am I even thinking about this?
Her mind drifted for half a second — and that was all he needed.
Ye Lanjue moved.
One moment she was standing there, trying to reason with herself.
The next, he had slipped past her and climbed onto the bed, effortlessly pulling her with him and nudging her toward the inside.
"This king is tired," he said, settling in. "Sleep."
And then — as if she weren't even there — he began undressing.
Right in front of her.
Tang Kexin snapped back to reality just in time to see his outer robes drop away. Her mouth twitched.
How is he so fast?
He was already in bed.
Already comfortable.
Already impossible to kick out without causing a scene.
Fine.
He liked men.
He wasn't a threat.
She could handle this.
She lay stiffly on her side, keeping a respectable distance, telling herself she was perfectly safe.
Then he moved again.
He rolled over — smoothly, deliberately — and suddenly he was above her, pinning her beneath him.
Tang Kexin froze.
"You— what are you doing?"
Her voice cracked, her eyes widening.
This was wrong. This was not how a man who liked men behaved.
Ye Lanjue looked down at her, his expression no longer neutral, no longer polite.
"Tonight is our wedding night," he said quietly. "What do you think I want to do?"
Her breath caught.
"If you want a wedding night," she snapped, pushing at his chest, "go find Nangong Yi!"
"The one who married me," he replied, "is you. Why would I go to him?"
"But— but you like Nangong Yi! You clearly—"
"Who told you that?"
His voice was low, amused, infuriatingly calm.
Tang Kexin stared at him, stunned.
"That day," he continued, "I was helping him detoxify the poison. You saw it. You misunderstood. My orientation is perfectly fine. You'll realise that soon enough."
Her mind went blank.
"What?"
She could barely breathe.
"You mean… you and Nangong Yi aren't…? I misunderstood?"
"Yes," he said simply.
"But you— you didn't explain!"
"You didn't give me the chance," he replied smoothly. "And it would have been rude to reject you when you asked me to marry you so directly."
Tang Kexin's jaw dropped.
"You did it on purpose."
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
Her chest tightened with outrage.
"What does that even mean?!"
"It means," he murmured, leaning closer, "I wanted to marry you."
Before she could react, he kissed her.
Hard.
She gasped, trying to twist away, but he was too quick, too skilled, too close. Her wrists were pinned, her legs trapped, her breath stolen.
She bit him — sharply.
He pulled back, but instead of anger, he laughed softly.
"Ye Lanjue, you— you shameless man!"
He didn't deny it.
"Yes," he said, and kissed her again — this time on her neck.
Her pulse jumped violently.
"Your Highness," she hissed, "are you trying to force yourself on me?"
He lifted his head, eyes dark and unreadable.
"As you mentioned that," he said, "you reminded me of something."
Her stomach dropped.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.
"I remember how strong you were at the temple."
Tang Kexin's blood ran cold.
"What… what do you mean?"
He smiled — slow, wicked, devastating.
"Do you think that just because you scrubbed away the marks I left on you, I wouldn't recognise you?"
Her heart stopped.
"You— you were the man from that night?"
"How could it be anyone else?" he murmured.
Her mind reeled.
Her thoughts scattered.
She couldn't even form a proper accusation.
He continued, voice low and maddeningly amused:
"You said I lacked skill. That I should work harder. And then you gave me crushed silver — payment, you said, for 'services rendered'."
Tang Kexin's face burned with mortification.
No one else could have known those words.
No one else could have repeated them.
It was him.
"If that's the case," he said softly, "I've already sold myself to you."
Her breath hitched.
"You can't force yourself on me and then walk away. That would be irresponsible."
She opened her mouth — to argue, to deny, to scream — but he kissed her again.
And only then did she realise—
Her undergarment was gone.
And so were his.
At some point — during her shock, during their argument, during his confession — their clothes had vanished.
They were skin to skin.
And she hadn't even noticed.