CHAPTER THREE — WAIT A MOMENT
He was somewhere in the shadows—watching, waiting, holding every thread of the situation in his unseen grasp. Against such a man, Tang Ke Xin knew she had no defence. She could only hide within the crowd, her gaze lowered, her senses sharpened.
From beneath her lashes she studied the figures at the centre of the hall.
The Crown Prince sat foremost, his bearing so composed it seemed carved from jade. His features were strikingly handsome, his posture effortless in its nobility. His eyes, calm and cool, held a depth that suggested he saw far more than he allowed others to perceive.
Tang Ke Xin's gaze drifted to the man seated at his left—and she felt her breath catch.
His brows were sharp as a drawn blade, his eyes bright as starlight, his expression carved with a cold, unyielding dignity. He did not speak, nor did he so much as lift an eyebrow, yet his presence alone radiated a commanding force that brooked no challenge. He was like a mountain—silent, immovable, and impossible to ignore.
The Third Prince, Ye Lan, she realised.
A man spoken of in whispers, admired and feared in equal measure.
She tore her gaze away at once. Even without looking directly at him, she felt the weight of his aura pressing upon her.
But then her eyes fell upon the man seated on the Crown Prince's right.
His skin was pale and smooth as polished jade. His phoenix‑shaped eyes tilted slightly upward, gleaming with a brilliance that seemed almost otherworldly. When he lifted his hand or turned his head, the movement alone was enough to draw every gaze in the room. A faint smile played at the corner of his lips—light, effortless, and devastating.
Tang Ke Xin felt a chill run through her.
In the modern world, there was a term for such a person—a monstrous genius, someone whose brilliance and beauty defied ordinary measure. If such a term existed here, it would belong to him alone.
One prince was calm as still water.
The other was cold as winter frost.
And the smiling one—he was the most dangerous of all.
Heaven forbid the man from last night was any one of them. If so, she would not merely die—she would be ground into dust.
The Crown Prince's voice cut through the silence.
"Master Lu, examine the body."
Master Lu stepped forward and lifted the white cloth. Several young ladies shrieked, but the physician remained unperturbed. He bent over the corpse, his movements precise and practiced.
After a moment, he straightened.
"Your Highness, the deceased shows no signs of poisoning, no wounds, and no indication of sudden illness."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
"Then how did he die?" someone asked, bewildered.
Before anyone could speculate further, a man stepped forward.
"Your Highness, last night when I awoke, I saw someone leaving the east wing. At the time, I thought nothing of it, but now it seems suspicious. The man came from Sir Lin's room, and he was clutching his left shoulder—as though injured."
Tang Ke Xin felt her blood run cold.
Her left shoulder.
The bite.
The wound.
This was no coincidence.
This was a trap—laid by the man from last night.
He was framing her.
"Then we shall inspect everyone," someone suggested smoothly. "Let us see who bears an injury on their left shoulder."
The Crown Prince nodded. "Master Lu, examine the men. Aunt Ping, examine the women."
A chill swept down Tang Ke Xin's spine. She felt as though icy fingers had brushed the back of her neck.
If they examined her shoulder, she was finished.
I have been here less than a day. Must I die already? This is absurd.
But there was no escape. The Crown Prince had spoken. The hall was full. Every eye was watchful.
The line grew shorter.
Five people ahead.
Four.
Three.
Her palms grew damp. Her heart hammered painfully. She could not simply stand and wait for death.
At that moment, Mu Shaoyi returned from his inspection.
In the memories of the body's original owner, Mu Shaoyi was a figure of near‑mythical importance—her fiancé, the man she adored to the point of obsession. She had chased him relentlessly, foolishly, embarrassingly, until the entire capital mocked her for it.
Tang Ke Xin's mind raced.
Then she acted.
With a sudden cry, she flung herself at him.
"Darling! I'm frightened—so frightened! There's a dead man!"
Her voice trembled, her eyes wide with feigned idiocy. She clung to his arm with desperate affection, exactly as the original Tang Ke Xin would have done.
The hall fell silent for a heartbeat, then filled with stifled laughter. No one was surprised. This was the Tang Ke Xin they knew—a fool, a nuisance, a spectacle.
Liu Ruyue, who had been approaching Mu Shaoyi, halted mid‑step. Her expression twisted with barely concealed fury.
"Get off me," Mu Shaoyi snapped, his face darkening. He tried to shake her off—hard—but she clung like a burr.
"Darling, I'm scared," she whimpered, wiping her tears on his sleeve.
Mu Shaoyi froze.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, horror dawning in his eyes.
Before he could pull away, she sniffled loudly—and wiped her nose on his sleeve as well.
The hall erupted into stunned silence.
Mu Shaoyi, famed for his fastidious cleanliness, looked as though he might faint from sheer revulsion.
"Tang Ke Er!" he roared, shaking her off at last. His composure shattered; fury radiated from him in waves.
Tang Ke Xin hid her satisfaction behind a mask of foolish distress.
Perfect.
"Your Highness," Mu Shaoyi said through clenched teeth, "please permit me to change."
"Granted," the Crown Prince replied, unable to refuse under such circumstances.
"Husband, don't leave me!" Tang Ke Xin wailed, stumbling after him. "I'm scared!"
No one stopped her. Why would they? She was merely a fool chasing her fiancé.
As they neared the door, Tang Ke Xin's heart pounded.
Just a few more steps. Let me out. Let me live.
"Wait a moment."
The voice was soft, melodious, and devastatingly pleasant.
To Tang Ke Xin, it struck like a bolt of lightning.
Her entire body went rigid.
She knew—instinctively, dreadfully—that the voice belonged to someone she could not afford to ignore.
And someone she could not possibly escape.