The loud, chaotic noise snapped the Lang Family’s taut nerves tight once again. Everyone turned to look at the figure charging toward them in a frenzy.

When they recognized him — and took in the white mourning clothes on his body — the whole assembly stiffened at once. Dead memories, forcibly resurrected.

You won’t live past three days!

Only two days ago, Lang Jiuchuan — that unhinged person — had said exactly that to the Zhao Family patriarch. Now, not yet three days later, the man’s grandson was here, dressed in white mourning clothes.

A perfectly healthy person does not go around wearing white mourning dress. And if they’re wearing it, it means someone in the family has been taken by the King of Hell.

Who in the Zhao Family had died — everyone felt two hundred percent certain it was Old Master Zhao. Otherwise Zhao Yuancheng would not look as though he wanted to devour Lang Jiuchuan alive.

The Lang Family felt profoundly exhausted by the ordeal of this funeral. One thing after another, never a moment of peace — and Lang Jiuchuan had a hand in every single incident.

Someone muttered under their breath: “A troublemaker in every sense of the word.”

Zhao Yuancheng had already spotted Lang Jiuchuan — that slight, frail figure standing off to one side, looking entirely out of place among the Lang Family. She seemed unremarkable at first glance, yet impossible to ignore.

His eyes were red as blood. He ground out two words between clenched teeth.

Lang. Jiu.

She was looking straight at him, her expression calm and composed. Even with him dressed in full mourning, she showed none of the shock the other Lang Family members displayed — not even the faintest trace of surprise.

She had already known this would happen.

That cold, knowing expression stabbed Zhao Yuancheng in the eye. He charged forward.

Cui Shi’s heart lurched. She took two reflexive steps forward — and then saw a figure step in front of Lang Jiuchuan.

“Brother Zhao, let’s speak calmly — today is the day of my grandfather’s coffin-sealing.” Lang Caimeng positioned himself between the two and gave Zhao Yuancheng a cupped-hand salute. Seeing the mourning clothes on him, he stopped himself from saying more.

Zhao Yuancheng ground his teeth. “Move aside.”

Lang Caimeng didn’t dare. The other man looked ready to charge — if someone put a blade in his hands right now, he’d probably cut Lang Jiuchuan to pieces on the spot.

Lang Zhengping had already come over. He looked at the white mourning clothes on Zhao Yuancheng’s body, and the shock on his face was no less than what he’d felt when the needle had been drawn from his father’s head.

“Yuancheng — that mourning dress of yours…”

Zhao Yuancheng’s throat worked. His eyes fixed on Lang Jiuchuan over Lang Caimeng’s shoulder. He said in a choked voice, “My grandfather. My grandfather passed on this morning.”

Everyone: “!”

The last hope died.

Just as she had predicted.

Feeling every gaze in the room land on her, Lang Jiuchuan moved Lang Caimeng aside and faced Zhao Yuancheng directly. “You came looking for me. What do you want?”

“You cursed my grandfather to death!” Zhao Yuancheng’s eyes were blood-red. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles cracked.

“Zhao Yuancheng!”

A sharp shout cut through the room and jolted everyone back to their senses.

Lang Zhengping quickly went to meet the newcomer — Zhao Yuancheng’s father, Zhao Kun, who was also the current Vice Minister of Justice. He too was dressed in full mourning. Lang Zhengping gave a cupped-hand salute and addressed him by his courtesy name: “Brother Qi Ning.”

Zhao Kun returned the salute. “My son has been disrespectful — I hope Younger Brother will not take offense.”

Lang Zhengping shook his head and asked urgently, “I just heard Yuancheng say that the elder patriarch — ?”

“When the servants went to wake him this morning, they found he had already departed,” Zhao Kun said, and briefly worked the corner of his mouth into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “He passed in his sleep — very peacefully. He had no regrets.”

“Father!” Zhao Yuancheng was still seething. That vicious girl Lang Jiu had clearly cursed his grandfather.

Zhao Kun glared at him. “Be quiet. You’re a father yourself now — how can you show so little sense of propriety? How can you face your grandfather’s spirit with your conduct today? And that remark of yours just now — it was hurtful to others. What curse? You’re talking absolute nonsense. Apologize to your younger Lang sister at once.”

Zhao Yuancheng: “?”

Sister? Not a chance. He, Zhao Yuancheng, had absolutely no use for a vicious, crow-mouthed sister like this one.

Zhao Kun saw him digging in his heels, shot him another withering glare, and turned to face Lang Jiuchuan. His expression was complicated and hard to read. He stepped forward. “You must be Zhengfan’s daughter — look how grown up you are. I apologize on his behalf. Your Brother Zhao was raised at his grandfather’s side since childhood. This sudden loss — he can’t accept it. That’s why he said those harsh things to you. As your Zhao Uncle, I’m offering his apology here. Please don’t hold it against him.”

Watching him actually bow, the assembled crowd was bewildered. Surely not?

Lang Jiuchuan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t blame me? He said I cursed your family’s old patriarch to death.”

Zhao Kun smiled with a touch of sorrow. “Life, old age, illness, and death — these come for us all. My father was of considerable age. As for curses — that is pure nonsense, the ravings of a man out of his mind with grief.”

Zhao Yuancheng’s eyes turned even redder with fury. He surged forward another step, only to have both Lang Caimeng and Lang Caize each seize one of his arms.

“Younger Brother, I truly am sorry to have intruded on such a day — if not for this unfilial son barging in and nearly causing a scene, I would not have dared leave the house at all. Our family has only just had the mourning tent set up and everything is in disarray. We won’t impose any longer — shall we meet again another day?” Zhao Kun said to Lang Zhengping, then after a slight pause, turned his eyes back to Lang Jiuchuan. “Jiu girl — could I trouble you for a word in private?”

“Now that he has gone, there is nothing to be done.” Lang Jiuchuan seemed to know exactly what he wanted to ask, and replied with just that one sentence.

Zhao Kun appeared to release a breath he’d been holding. The relief on his face made Lang Zhengping glance sideways at him.

Lang Jiuchuan looked briefly to the side, then back at Zhao Kun. She beckoned to him with a small gesture and walked a short distance away. When Zhao Kun came close, she said, “There is a book — the Records of Diverse Things — on the second shelf of the south study. When you go back, look at it.”

Zhao Kun’s pupils contracted. He stared at her, unmoving.

Lang Jiuchuan sighed slightly and said, “And one more thing — the old patriarch would like to be laid to rest in that rose-blue silk robe embroidered with flowering crabapple.”

Zhao Kun’s fingers gave a faint tremor. He breathed in deeply, and seemed about to say something — but Lang Jiuchuan had already turned and walked back into the mourning hall. She tilted her head slightly, and her lips seemed to move, as if she were speaking quietly to someone. Zhao Kun stopped where he was, his eyes growing faintly red.

The onlookers stared at the scene, exchanging glances, until Lang Zhengping had seen the Zhao father and son off and they all came back to themselves.

“So — she really did curse Old Master Zhao to death. Isn’t that just a crow’s mouth bringing ruin?” Lang Cailing’s voice came out a little high-pitched.

Wu Shi, standing beside her, tugged at her sleeve and cut her eyes to one side.

Lang Cailing followed her glance and saw that her adoptive mother and Cui Shi were standing side by side, both of them with their gaze fixed on her, their expressions unreadable. Her face paled by several degrees.

The other Lang Family members were wildly curious — but not a one of them dared open their mouths carelessly. What if Lang Jiu heard them, and cursed them too? What if the good omens failed and only the bad ones held?

At this moment, Zhao Kun was also delivering a scolding to the still-resentful Zhao Yuancheng: “You are the eldest legitimate grandson. Your grandfather has only just passed, and the household is in chaos. As the grandson he placed all his hopes in, instead of staying home to help manage the funeral arrangements, you run off to make a scene at someone else’s house. What kind of behavior is this? And what is this talk of curses? You’re supposed to be a student who has widely read the teachings of the sages. If you say something like that and it gets out, it will not only ruin that young woman’s reputation — it will make people mock you for being completely without reason.”

Zhao Yuancheng felt some shame, but persisted: “You didn’t hear what she said — how she cursed Grandfather, saying he didn’t have many days left. And then Grandfather really…”

Zhao Kun looked at him steadily. “And yet your grandfather really did go. But consider — if this weren’t a coincidence, what grounds would she have had to say what she said and be proven right?”

Zhao Yuancheng’s body went rigid. His fingers curled slightly inward.

Zhao Kun’s eyes held a deep sorrow. “Once your grandfather’s funeral is complete, I’ll explain everything to you.”

He lifted the carriage curtain and looked back at the Lang Family estate. He thought of Lang Jiuchuan’s words, and of the exhausting days he had spent running about at his father’s behest — and his lips pressed quietly together.

The Lang Family — they truly do carry some measure of fate.