CHAPTER FOURTEEN — YOU TRY IT
Tang Ke Xin froze—not merely because of Nangong Yi's audacious offer to carry her into the carriage, but because of the soft, languid affection woven into his tone. What, precisely, was he implying?
A quiet sigh escaped her inwardly. This man was impossible to grasp. At times he shone with dazzling brilliance; at others he was as dark and unreadable as a moonless night. He shifted between sincerity and mockery with such ease that one could never tell which face was real.
It was maddening.
But one thing she knew with absolute certainty:
he had no intention of letting her go.
With that in mind, Tang Ke Xin turned and stepped into the carriage.
What is there to fear?
What is there to fear?
Is my heart truly trembling?
Behind her, Nangong Yi's lips curved into a wickedly enchanting smile, as though her decision delighted him.
"Since Miss Tang is no longer a fool," he drawled, "perhaps you might explain why you pretended to be one so desperately in the Zen Hall… and during Sir Lin's incident the day before yesterday?"
His voice was light, almost playful, yet beneath it lay a pressure that could not be ignored.
Tang Ke Xin seated herself opposite him, lowering her gaze slightly so she looked down at him from beneath her lashes.
"Master Hui Yuan cured me while treating my injuries," she replied calmly.
The implication was clear:
During the meditation hall incident, she had still been genuinely foolish.
"Is that so?"
His smile deepened, his eyes drifting—slowly, deliberately—toward her left shoulder.
From her angle, it was unmistakable.
He was looking exactly where the wound had been.
A chill rippled through her.
Coincidence? Or does he know?
Could he truly be the man from that night?
"You dare claim you had nothing to do with Sir Lin?" he murmured.
He leaned closer, his breath brushing her skin, his chin nearly grazing her shoulder. His voice dipped lower—rich, intoxicating, dangerously persuasive.
Tang Ke Xin's heart lurched.
"B–Beautiful sister!" she blurted suddenly.
Nangong Yi paused. His peach‑blossom eyes shifted toward her face, the corners of his lips tightening in a faint, unreadable expression.
His presence filled the entire carriage—warm, suffocating, overwhelming. Tang Ke Xin felt as though the air itself had thickened.
She needed to divert him. Immediately.
"Why does Beautiful Sister care so deeply about Sir Lin?" she asked sweetly. "Could it be that you and Sir Lin shared a… special relationship? You seemed very fond of him."
She said it deliberately—half teasing, half provoking.
If she could not anger him, she could at least unsettle him. Anything was better than his current unreadable calm.
But Nangong Yi merely smiled.
Slowly, he leaned forward again.
His hand lifted, brushing lightly against her hair. His fingers slid through the strands, curling them gently around his knuckles—tightening, winding, claiming.
"Are you questioning my preferences?" he murmured. "Why don't you try and find out?"
His face drew closer—closer still—his lips hovering dangerously near hers. The air between them thickened with tension, warm and breathless. His scent enveloped her, subtle and intoxicating. His fingers tightened in her hair, holding her in place.
His teasing gaze darkened, a shadow flickering beneath the surface.
Tang Ke Xin's pulse stumbled.
What have I done?
She had meant only to distract him, not… this.
She had not expected him to be so shameless.
So bold.
So utterly unrestrained.
His words slid into her mind like silk, wrapping around her thoughts, stirring something she did not dare name. His presence pressed against her senses, dangerous and consuming.
Her heart—usually steady, disciplined, unshakeable—lost its rhythm entirely.
And in that moment, she realised:
She had dug a pit for him.
And fallen straight into it herself.