Lang Jiuchuan emerged from her meditative trance to find that an entire night had passed. The sun had climbed three poles high in the sky. She sat up in bed and reached up to touch her forehead — it was ice cold.

The backlash from yesterday’s forcible attempt to read the fate record of that name had not yet faded, leaving her philtrum as cold as ice, and even her back felt thoroughly chilled.

It was an ominous premonition. Someone was scheming against her.

Jian Lan peeked around from behind the folding screen, and upon seeing that she had woken, hurried over to attend to her. She also mentioned that Nanny Wang — the old madam’s personal attendant — had come by last night, saying the old madam was making a fuss and demanding to see her.

“Bring me some clothes to change into,” Lang Jiuchuan said immediately.

Jian Lan acknowledged this and called over the sisters Daman and Xiaoman. The three of them busied themselves — one fetching clothes, one bringing water for washing, and one preparing the morning meal — without pause.

The heavy mourning garments could now be set aside. Lang Jiuchuan changed into a cotton skirt of orchid-blue, and as for her jet-black hair, she declined Jian Lan’s offer to help pin it into a bun, instead braiding it into one long plait that hung to one side.

“This cotton skirt was sewn through the night by this servant and Daman. The embroiderers will come later to take your measurements and make proper garments for you. Since you must observe mourning for a full year, you cannot wear bright colors. Does Young Miss have any favorite colors?”

Lang Jiuchuan answered without thinking: “Blue-green. Silver-white.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she fell briefly into a daze. Had those truly been her old preferences?

Jian Lan picked up the Dizhong bell and fastened it around her waist, then could not help asking, “What kind of adornment is this? The silk cord is too pale — shall this servant braid you a blue-green tassel to replace it?”

Lang Jiuchuan let out a soft laugh. “This happens to be a treasure belonging to the Great Emperor — the mortal enemy of the Supremely White.”

“Ah?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked at her blank, bewildered expression, curled the corner of her lips, and offered no further explanation. “No need to go to the trouble of braiding a new tassel. This silk cord cannot be replaced.”

It was a magical instrument, after all.

After finishing the morning meal, Lang Jiuchuan set off with Jian Lan toward Shoukang Hall. Inside, however, it was quite lively. Upon inquiring, she learned that everyone was trying to coax the old madam — who was in a temperamental mood — into eating her morning meal.

“The ninth young miss has arrived,” a maidservant announced inside.

The moment Lang Jiuchuan walked in, all eyes turned toward her. Madam Fan was present with her two daughters-in-law, Wu Shi and Madam Pan, along with the illegitimate daughter Lang Cailing. There was also Third Branch Aunt Madam Feng with Lang Caiyao, and several male members of the family who were of lower seniority than Lang Jiuchuan.

Jian Lan, seeing that Lang Jiuchuan showed no intention of paying her respects, quietly reminded her, “Young Miss must greet the elders.”

She did not presume to make decisions for Lang Jiuchuan, but matters of etiquette had to be pointed out — even when she knew her mistress would be displeased, it was better to advise than to leave an opening for criticism.

Lang Jiuchuan had no objection to this. She greeted Madam Fan and Madam Feng, and also paid her respects to the two sisters-in-law.

Lang Cailing stood with her chin tilted upward, waiting — yet she watched with wide eyes and never once saw Lang Jiuchuan offer her any form of greeting. Anger surged up within her. She ranked ahead of Lang Jiuchuan among the sisters.

Was this being ignored?

She was just about to make a scene when Lang Jiuchuan had already moved toward the old madam. Taking the bowl of congee from Nanny Wang’s hands, she said, “Grandmother, you must eat your morning meal to be a good girl.”

The old madam squinted and leaned in close to look at her, then reached out and pinched her cheek. Smiling, she said, “Oh, I know you — you’re my dear little one.”

“That’s right. So will you eat or not?” Lang Jiuchuan brought the spoon to her lips.

“Eat, yes, I’ll eat.” The old madam obediently opened her mouth.

Those present let out a collective breath of relief, their expressions a mixture of comfort — and a trace of sourness.

Lang Cailing said in a singsong, pointed tone, “Who knows what sort of magic she’s cast…”

Before she could finish, her birth mother Madam Fan shot her a warning glance.

Wu Shi stepped forward with a smile, lifted a small, neatly shaped bun with silver chopsticks, cushioning it lightly with a handkerchief, and offered it to the old madam as well. “When the ninth younger sister was small, Grandmother must have fed her this way. Now it is the ninth younger sister’s turn to serve Grandmother — this truly is the crow repaying its mother’s kindness.”

Lang Cailing let out a snicker. “Sister-in-law is right — isn’t this exactly the crow repaying its mother?”

Madam Feng drew her daughter back a step and gave a slight shake of her head. This unmarried niece of the first branch was truly spoiled beyond redemption. She had no sense of occasion when she spoke — with one remark, she had managed to offend two people at once.

What had been a gracious sentiment was entirely ruined the moment Lang Cailing delivered it in that mocking tone. When she said “crow repaying its mother,” it curdled into something else entirely.

Who was the crow?

And who was it, not so long ago, who had prophesied the old master of the Zhao family’s swift passage to the afterlife? Everyone present knew the implication — it was a veiled suggestion that Lang Jiuchuan was a genuine crow, one with a crow’s ominous mouth.

Yet Lang Cailing seemed entirely unaware of what she had done. Setting aside offending Lang Jiuchuan — sisters might simply cease contact with each other — what about offending her sister-in-law Wu Shi? When she one day married out of the family and needed the Lan household to stand up for her, how much consideration would that sister-in-law show her then?

Truly foolish, and not even aware of it.

And sure enough — the moment she said those words, the smile on Wu Shi’s face stiffened. A flame of irritation flared up inside her. She wanted to say a few words to explain herself to Lang Jiuchuan, but looking over, Lang Jiuchuan appeared as if she had gone deaf — as though she had heard nothing at all — and simply continued feeding the old madam the full bowl of congee, then used a handkerchief to wipe the elder woman’s mouth. She had not taken any of it to heart.

Wu Shi’s own heart eased slightly. Seizing the moment, she pressed the silver chopsticks into Lang Jiuchuan’s hands, while she herself picked up the plate of buns and held it out for Lang Jiuchuan to select from — all while quietly noting her grievance against Lang Cailing.

With no one responding to her, Lang Cailing stood there in growing awkwardness. She could only purse her lips and pull over her full younger brother. “You go serve Grandmother too.”

But the ten-year-old Lang Caiyi screwed up his mouth and said, “I won’t. That’s women’s work — wuwu—”

Lang Cailing, in horror, clamped her hand over his mouth and looked toward their mother.

Madam Fan’s expression darkened. She glanced at the nanny beside her and said, “There are too many people in the room — it’s getting noisy. Take the seventh young miss and the eleventh young master out.”

“Yes, madam.”

Lang Cailing’s face flushed the color of pig liver. She wanted to dig in her heels and refuse to go, but under her birth mother’s gaze, she dared not utter a single sound, and skulked out in defeat.

The room quieted somewhat.

Madam Feng nudged her daughter. Lang Caiyao read the moment, and once the old madam finished her morning meal, she took the warm cloth the maidservant had prepared and gently wiped the elder woman’s face and hands.

Lang Jiuchuan had retreated to one side. She watched the performance of filial devotion playing out before her, and the constant maneuvering that pervaded this great household, and found it all rather tedious.

Then the old madam returned from a trip to the privy, freshly changed into clean clothes, and promptly drove everyone out. Only Lang Jiuchuan remained. The old madam beckoned her with conspiratorial excitement into the inner chamber, produced a brocade pouch, and pressed it into her hands.

“This is what Grandmother has been saving for my dear little one. I wouldn’t give it to anyone else — only you.”

Lang Jiuchuan was momentarily taken aback. She opened the pouch to find a small stack of banknotes — a full two thousand taels — and tucked among them, a deed document for a small property that included a shop front.

She looked toward Nanny Wang. “This is…?”

“It was purchased by the old madam’s instruction while she was still lucid. It was not entered into the household registry, and the main accounts know nothing of it. She said it was to be kept as part of your dowry.” Nanny Wang explained, “The property is not large — two small courtyards — but it sits on a main street, with a shop front at the front that can be opened through to the rear residence. The shop is currently rented out, but the lease ends this year. Whether to renew the tenancy is entirely up to you, Young Miss.”

Lang Jiuchuan pressed her lips together. “This is truly meant for me?”

“There is more — a selection of jewelry has also been set aside, and she gave instructions for all of it long ago.” Nanny Wang glanced at the old madam, then said, “The old madam said that you are the one she has wronged most deeply. Even in her state of confusion, you are the one she keeps in her heart.”

Jiangche’s spiritual consciousness suddenly surfaced: “Tsk, tsk — moved to tears now, are we? Why aren’t you weeping and wailing?”