CHAPTER 181 — HIS HIGHNESS HAS SHOWN HIS MIGHT, TOO DOMINEERING
The search for Tang Kexin had escalated into something far beyond what anyone in the capital had imagined. Even the steward, who had followed Ye Lanjue for years, felt a tremor of fear. His Highness was no longer merely angry — he was relentless, unrestrained, and terrifyingly focused.
Meanwhile, Tang Kexin was running for her life.
Her clothes were soaked through, clinging cold and heavy to her skin. Every gust of wind made her shiver violently. She slipped through shadows, avoiding patrols with the precision of someone who had been hunted before.
It was around three in the morning — the darkest, quietest hour of the night. The moon had long since disappeared, and the city was at its most exhausted. It was the perfect time to vanish.
She needed somewhere unexpected. Somewhere Ye Lanjue would never think to look.
And then it struck her — the Third Prince's own manor.
Everyone was searching for her. She had already appeared in two different places. Ye Lanjue would assume her next target was the palace.
So she would do the opposite.
She would hide in his home.
The thought alone made her smirk. The idea of Ye Lanjue being dragged around the city while she slept peacefully under his own roof was deliciously satisfying. Her steps grew lighter.
The manor was practically empty. Most of the guards were still at the princess's estate, and the few remaining were stationed at the front. The back courtyard was deserted.
Tang Kexin scaled the wall with surprising ease and dropped silently into the garden. She slipped through a winding path until she found a small, neglected room. The windows were dusty, the door covered in cobwebs — untouched for months.
Perfect.
She eased the window open and slipped inside. She didn't dare touch the door; disturbing the cobwebs would give her away instantly. The room was thick with dust, the air stale, the furniture sparse — two chairs, a table, a bed. It must have belonged to a maid long ago.
She approached the bed but didn't sit. The dust was thick enough to choke on. She pressed herself against the wall, forcing her breathing to slow. She couldn't afford to relax. Not when Ye Lanjue's cold, furious face still haunted her mind.
He wouldn't let her go easily. She knew that. He was too dangerous, too determined, too… him.
She scanned the room for a hiding place, but it was hopeless. The room was too open, too bare. There was nowhere to hide.
Her frustration flared. She kicked the bed.
A hollow thud echoed.
She froze.
Then her eyes widened.
Empty?
A grin spread across her face — wide, triumphant, almost wicked. Of course the heavens wouldn't abandon a beautiful, clever girl like her. If they closed a door, they would leave a window open.
She lifted the bed carefully — and nearly laughed aloud.
Underneath was a hollow space filled with old hay and a thin mat. Someone had once used it as a secret sleeping spot.
Now it was hers.
She slid under the bed, settled onto the mat, and exhaled in relief. It wasn't comfortable, but it was hidden — and that was all she needed.
Ye Lanjue could search the entire city. She was going to sleep.
And the thought of him tearing his hair out while she snored peacefully made her smile even more.
Back at the princess's mansion, Nangong Yi watched Ye Lanjue with a mixture of awe and alarm. He had known the Third Prince for years, but he had never seen him like this — cold, furious, and radiating a murderous aura that made even seasoned warriors flinch.
He swallowed hard. "Why don't we stop for today? Everyone is tired."
He remembered the things he had said earlier — teasing Ye Lanjue, provoking him. Now, looking at the prince's expression, he regretted every word. If he pushed any further, he might not live to see sunrise.
Ye Lanjue's clothes had dried from his inner force, but the coldness in his eyes was enough to freeze the world. His smile — thin, sharp, merciless — was even more frightening.
"Take my medallion," he said to the steward, voice low and deadly. "Mobilise the imperial guards. Place a soldier every five steps. Surround the entire capital."
The steward stared at him, stunned. Mobilise the imperial guards? Seal the city? This was no longer a search — it was a military operation.
Ye Lanjue continued, each word colder than the last. "Seal the city gates. No one leaves."
The steward's heart dropped. "Your Highness…"
"What is it?" Ye Lanjue's gaze snapped to him, icy and lethal. "Did you not hear me clearly?"
The steward trembled. He had served Ye Lanjue for years, but tonight… tonight was different. This was a prince pushed past his limit.
The little princess stood frozen, her small hands clenched. Third Brother was terrifying. Could Elder Sister Xin really escape this?
Ye Lanjue wasn't finished.
"Rotate the guards every five hours. No one relaxes. Announce that no household may take in strangers. Anyone who violates this will be severely punished."
He paused, thinking, then added, "Anyone who must leave the city must first obtain a token from Tingfeng to verify their identity. Only then may they be escorted out. No exceptions."
The steward's mouth twitched. This was ruthless. Brilliant, but ruthless. Ye Lanjue had sealed every possible exit. No disguise, no trick, no escape route would work.
Even Nangong Yi shivered. Thank heavens he wasn't Ye Lanjue's enemy.
At Kunning Palace, the Empress sat rigidly, her eyes filled with worry. Where was her Xin'er? The girl had grown up sheltered, protected, never lacking food or warmth. She had never faced hardship alone.
Now she was out there, running, cold, hungry, frightened.
And Ye Lanjue — proud, fierce, unyielding — how could he bear this humiliation? How could he tolerate being defied?
The Empress's heart ached. Was Xin'er truly willing to marry him? Or had she been forced? Was she repeating the Empress's own tragic path — marrying a man she didn't love, trapped in a life she didn't choose?
Dong'er stepped forward gently. "Your Majesty, the young lady is not who she used to be. She will be fine."
Dong'er believed it. Ever since Tang Kexin recovered from her illness, she had been extraordinary — clever, bold, impossible to predict. And the Third Prince… no matter how angry he was, Dong'er was certain he would never truly harm her.
A eunuch's voice rang out suddenly. "The Emperor has arrived!"
The Empress straightened, preparing to rise, but the Emperor hurried forward to support her.
"Qing'er," he said softly, "don't worry. That girl is clever. She'll be fine."
The Empress blinked, startled. She had expected blame, anger, accusations.
Instead, she found comfort.
Or… was there something more?
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CHAPTER 182 — HIS HIGHNESS' DOMINEERING NATURE HAD FOUND HER
The Empress lifted her gaze to the Emperor, confusion tightening her features. "Your Majesty… you do not blame Xin'er?"
"I do not blame her," he replied at once, his tone firm and unwavering.
"But the Third Prince?" she pressed, still unable to understand. "Surely he must be furious. And you—after everything you said about the marriage—how can you not blame her? Xin'er running away… it is a humiliation to the Imperial Family."
The Emperor sighed softly and took her hand, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "Silly woman. Did you not hear what Jue'er said today? He took the blame upon himself. He refused to let that girl shoulder it."
The Empress blinked, stunned.
The Emperor looked at her with a tenderness that still startled her after nineteen years of marriage. From the moment he first saw her, he had fallen hopelessly in love. When she ran away all those years ago, he had been furious, wounded, resentful… but none of it had ever been enough to extinguish his love for her.
He had married her anyway.
He had kept her by his side anyway.
Even if her heart had never fully belonged to him.
Now, with the shadow of that person reappearing, he knew he could not afford to push her away again. If he failed to comfort her now, she might slip through his fingers once more.
What was the value of an empire if he lost the woman he loved?
He drew her into a gentle embrace. "I believe in Jue'er. He cares for that girl. If he did not, he would never have agreed to the marriage, no matter what decree I issued."
The Empress's breath caught.
The Emperor's voice softened further. "Do not worry. Xin'er will be fine. Tonight, I will stay with you. Rest."
She stiffened slightly. His "companionship" usually meant something else entirely, and tonight she was far too troubled for that. But when he saw her discomfort, he didn't press her. He had learned—finally—that possession was not the same as love.
He squeezed her hand gently. "I mean only to accompany you. Nothing more."
Far away in the Northern Kingdom, the Northern King stood by his window, moonlight spilling across his stern features. "Yie Ling, any news of the Princess?"
Though he had never raised his daughter, blood was blood. His worry gnawed at him.
"Master, the Princess is safe. She is currently in the Third Prince's Mansion," Yie Ling replied, unable to hide the admiration in his voice.
The Northern King's brows lifted. "Third Prince's Mansion?"
Yie Ling relayed everything the dark guards had discovered.
A slow grin spread across the Northern King's face, his earlier worry dissolving. "Good. Very good. She truly is my daughter."
Even he had heard of Ye Lanjue's methods. For Tang Kexin to escape him not once, but repeatedly—how could he not feel proud?
"Continue protecting her from the shadows," he ordered. "Do not reveal yourselves unless absolutely necessary."
Then he paused. "Bring me pen and paper."
His eyes darkened. His daughter might be clever, but she was still suffering. And he would not allow anyone—not even Ye Lanjue—to bully her.
Back at the Third Prince's Mansion, Ye Lanjue sat alone in the darkness, sleep nowhere near him. His mind was filled with Tang Kexin—her stubbornness, her defiance, her infuriating cleverness. Beneath all of it, a worry he refused to acknowledge gnawed at him.
A sudden flicker of movement outside the window snapped him from his thoughts. He moved instantly, ready to strike—but the shadow vanished, leaving only a folded note on the ground.
He opened it.
Be at ease. Do not use the Flame Gate.
Signed with a single, bold character: North.
Ye Lanjue's eyes narrowed.
The Northern Kingdom?
Why would they interfere in Tang Kexin's affairs?
The two nations had barely interacted in years. There was no reason for the Northern Kingdom to involve itself with the Prime Minister's daughter.
Unless… there was something he didn't know.
But the message was clear: do not use the Flame Gate.
He hadn't planned to—not unless forced—but the warning was unmistakable.
That night, countless people lay awake.
Only one person slept peacefully.
Tang Kexin.
When she finally woke, sunlight was already filtering through the dusty window. The manor was quiet. No guards. No shouting. No chaos.
Ye Lanjue clearly hadn't expected her to hide in his own home.
She smirked. Brilliant, Tang Kexin. Truly brilliant.
Since she couldn't leave the city, she might as well rest and recover. She rolled over and promptly fell asleep again.
Elsewhere in the manor, the steward approached Ye Lanjue cautiously. "Your Highness… could it be that the Princess Consort has already left the city?"
They had searched for two days and nights. No trace. No sightings. Nothing.
Ye Lanjue's expression was cold, but no longer explosive. "Impossible. She is still in the city."
Two days had cooled his rage into something sharper—focus. He needed clarity to outmanoeuvre her.
He wasn't surprised there was no news. She was clever, resourceful, and infuriatingly unpredictable. It was normal that she hadn't been found yet.
Then something clicked.
His eyes narrowed.
In the backyard, Tang Kexin stirred from her nap, stretching lazily—until she heard the faint creak of a door.
Her eyes snapped open.
The door to the abandoned room was opening.
Slowly. Quietly.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
It wasn't the wind. The door had been shut tightly. And there was no breeze strong enough to move it.
A ghost?
The thought flashed through her mind before she could stop it. She had never believed in ghosts before, but after transmigrating into another body, she wasn't so sure anymore.
But then she heard breathing.
Human.
She held her breath as a foot stepped inside. Then another. Then a heavier foot behind it.
Two people.
A woman first—slender legs, hesitant steps.
A man behind her—clumsy, eager.
Tang Kexin's stomach dropped.
No. No, no, no. Not this. Not now.
The couple slipped inside and closed the door behind them.
"Brother Hu Zi… I'm scared," the woman whispered.
"Don't be. No one comes to the backyard," the man murmured, already reaching for her.
Tang Kexin wanted to slam her head into the wall.
Of all the rooms in the entire manor—why this one?
She was trapped under the bed, forced to witness a live performance she had absolutely no desire to see.
The woman hesitated, but the man's words—soft, coaxing, full of false promises—made her melt. Tang Kexin rolled her eyes so hard she nearly strained something.
The man pressed her onto the bed. Clothes fell to the floor. The bed creaked. Dust rained down.
Tang Kexin covered her face with both hands.
Heavens, I swear I will burn incense for you if I survive this humiliation.
The woman whimpered, "Brother Hu Zi… be gentle…"
"I know," he said, breathless, impatient.
The bed shifted again.
And then—
The door exploded open with a violent kick.
The couple froze.
The man looked up—and his face drained of colour.
Standing in the doorway, framed by moonlight, eyes colder than death itself—
Was Ye Lanjue.