After finishing his examination of Shen Peng, the attending physician came out and took a look at the injury on Lang Jiuchuan’s forehead as well. He prescribed a blood-activating and bruise-resolving decoction, then hesitated, seeming to have more to say.

Shen Qinghe and his wife tensed. “Is there a problem with the dislocated wrist? Should we prepare a bone-strengthening, tendon-reinforcing poultice and wrap it up?”

The concern on their faces was not feigned — Shen Qinghe’s especially. He had given Lang Zhengping his solemn word back at the Marquis’s residence that he would return Lang Jiuchuan safely. And yet, barely after setting out, she had ended up with a bruised forehead and a dislocated wrist — injuries that were not minor, not the kind one could brush aside with a glance. How could that not weigh on him?

All the more so when the one who had injured her was his own wife, making him doubly in the wrong. And Lang Jiuchuan was no ordinary girl — she was the only daughter of the late General of the North. If anything were to happen to her, would the Shen family not have made an enemy of the Lang Family for life?

The attending physician said, “The dislocated wrist has been set back into place without issue. Medication may be applied if desired.”

“Then we’ll apply it.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Shen Qinghe and Lang Jiuchuan both spoke at the same time.

Hearing Lang Jiuchuan refuse, Madam Shen frowned. “Ninth young lady, please do take the medication. A bone that has been dislocated and set — even once it heals, the underlying damage is done. If it isn’t properly cared for, when you’re older, every cold or rainy day will bring aching joints.”

Lang Jiuchuan offered a mild smile. “The two of you need not concern yourselves. I know my own situation. Whatever happens in the future cannot be laid at your doorstep.”

Shen Qinghe and Madam Shen both frowned.

This child — she is stubborn.

The attending physician looked toward Lang Jiuchuan and said, “Young lady, your constitution is truly very weak. Your pulse is faint and without strength, and your vital energy and blood are both deficient — this is the presentation of a body in a state of decline. You must take very careful care of yourself, or it will have serious consequences for your longevity.”

Shen Qinghe and the others felt their hearts lurch at the words. She was visibly frail to begin with, but to have a physician confirm she was genuinely this unwell — that was a strange and unsettling feeling.

Both of them looked at Lang Jiuchuan at once. She was perfectly calm — composed as though none of it concerned her, without a trace of sorrow or despondency on her face.

“Thank you, physician. I’ll keep it in mind.” Lang Jiuchuan thanked the attending physician with a smile.

Once the physician had departed, Lang Jiuchuan said, “My own constitution aside, your son is what matters. Let us go and see him.”

Madam Shen gave a start. She had genuinely forgotten about her son for a moment. She rushed back to the sleeping chamber at once.

The sleeping chamber had been relit with a fresh calming incense stick. Shen Peng was propped up against the soft cushions, staring blankly at the bed curtain with a dazed, vacant look. At the sound of movement, he turned his head — and when he saw the person following behind his parents, his eyes flickered with a brief, elusive unease.

Jiangche crouched in front of him and reached out both paws, attempting to lift the blanket covering him. Lang Jiuchuan cut it off immediately: “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m checking whether he’s still intact down there. The way he was beating himself senseless earlier — it made me wince just watching.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s face darkened. “Behave yourself. Get back here.”

Jiangche slunk back sheepishly and perched atop Lang Jiuchuan’s head, whereupon Lang Jiuchuan reached out with her mind and dragged it back down into the depths of the spirit altar.

Enough is enough.

“Peng, you frightened your mother to death.” Madam Shen came to the bedside and took Shen Peng’s hand in hers, her eyes glistening with tears.

Shen Peng mustered a faint, weak smile. “Father, Mother — it is I who am unfilial.”

These past weeks of torment had stripped the vigor and energy from him, leaving his cheeks hollowed, wan, and pallid. Compared to Lang Jiuchuan, the two of them were equally wretched.

“Don’t say that — none of this is your fault. How could it be?” Madam Shen dabbed at her eyes, then glanced down at her own hand, and let her gaze drift to the region below his abdomen.

The physician had already confirmed that the restraint had been applied in time, and no lasting harm had been done to his vital area. Had that not been the case, had he truly been left crippled there, this child’s life would have been ruined — even if he recovered otherwise, he might never have been able to pick himself up again.

She had Lang Jiuchuan to thank for that. She truly could not fathom where that frail body had found the strength to hold him down.

After this, the way Madam Shen looked at Lang Jiuchuan softened considerably. Whether or not she was truly capable of resolving the strangeness afflicting her son, she had already stepped in and saved him once.

“We owe our gratitude to the ninth young lady.” She looked at Lang Jiuchuan with an expression full of genuine thankfulness.

Shen Peng also looked over at her, the tips of his ears warming faintly.

Lang Jiuchuan stood to one side and said, “The self-harming behavior you exhibited just now was driven by the evil energy within you. It caused you to lose your reason and act that way. There is no need for you to blame yourself.”

Shen Qinghe’s brow furrowed deeply. “But Peng has never done anything like this before. He has been gradually losing his vital essence — why would this suddenly happen now?”

“This is precisely what I meant,” Lang Jiuchuan said, “when I told you earlier that your son could not afford to wait.”

Shen Qinghe startled.

“What do you mean by that?” Madam Shen demanded, her voice sharp with alarm.

Lang Jiuchuan took down the talisman from the head of the bed, unfolded it, and examined it. “What makes something wicked? By nature, it is dark and malicious — it disrupts one’s mind and heart. If the evil energy grows powerful enough, it will simply take his life outright.”

She raised her head and looked at Shen Peng. “You should consider yourself fortunate. Madam Shen has led a life of goodness and accumulated merit enough to protect those near her, and your father has served as a just official, earning the reverence of countless people, forging a body of upright and righteous energy. Together, those forces have shielded their descendants. Without that protection, you would already be walking the road to the underworld.”

Though Shen Peng had already known his situation was dire, hearing Lang Jiuchuan deliver what amounted to a verdict of death struck all three members of the Shen family simultaneously — every trace of color drained from their faces.

Shen Qinghe said gravely, “But you said I was the one who first attracted this thing. By rights, I should be the one to suffer — why is it Peng who bears the brunt? He never even went to the Daughters’ Village.”

“Master Shen, you are a good official.”

Shen Qinghe was thrown off. …They were having a serious conversation. Why had she suddenly broken into flattery?

He felt an odd, awkward prickling of self-consciousness. Shen Qinghe straightened his back and his chest ever so slightly, cast her a sidelong glance, and thought: Go on — keep talking.

“Over your years in office, you have championed the people’s causes and served with integrity, and that has cultivated in you a body of righteous energy. Your current post moreover keeps you constantly in and out of the prison courts — those are places steeped in malice. Where malice lingers, so does killing energy: both the righteous killing energy born of judicial duty and the blood-soaked killing energy of punishment. Having spent years immersed in that environment, you have naturally absorbed some of that energy into yourself. It is the same as a general who has slain countless enemies in battle — his body becomes saturated with a blood-drenched, war-soaked energy. That kind of presence is something even ordinary people instinctively fear, and most wicked entities fear it as well. Why do you think there is a phrase that says ‘authority without anger’? I imagine that even when you speak without any particular sharpness, Master Shen, you are enough to make people’s blood run cold.”

“That’s true — when he doesn’t smile, he’s terrifying. When he was posted to the regions in the past, people used to invoke his name to frighten children into behaving,” Madam Shen chimed in immediately.

Lang Jiuchuan continued: “You have righteous energy protecting your body, so the wicked entity does not dare approach you directly. But using you as a conduit to harm those around you — that it can certainly do.”

She cast a glance over him, then tapped lightly on the Dizhong at her waist. “Is there anything you lost somewhere near the Daughters’ Village that you later happened to recover?”

Shen Qinghe went rigid, his expression shifting. “There is.”

He looked toward Madam Shen. “Where is that eighteen-bead wooden carved pendant that Peng carved and gave to me?”

Madam Shen rose and went to the wardrobe, retrieved a cloth bundle, and rummaged through it until she pulled out a string of pressed-garment ornaments.

“Ah!”

At the sight of it, Madam Shen screamed in fright and flung her hand. The ornament string tumbled through the air and landed at Lang Jiuchuan’s feet.