Lang Zhengping found himself in a rather contemplative mood. Less than a month into mourning, and already two powerful, high-ranking officials had visited the household — both of them seeking Lang Jiuchuan. He had once thought this baffling. Now, it seemed that those men truly believed Lang Jiuchuan had great ability, and had come to her with matters to be handled.

As for that child’s abilities — Lang Zhengping could not help but recall the experience on the Road to the Underworld. To enter the realm of the dead and come back completely intact — that was, truthfully, quite remarkable.

Lang Zhengping took a sip of tea and exchanged pleasantries with Zhao Kun.

Zhao Kun said: “The petition for mourning leave has been submitted, and the Imperial Household has already granted approval. Once the mourning period is over, you and I should work together on seeking reinstatement.”

Lang Zhengping smiled ruefully. “You may speak of reinstatement easily, Elder Brother Qining, but I dare not say the same for myself. As you know, the Imperial Household has never held our Lang Family in high regard. If I can secure even a minor idle post, that would already be considered a mark of favor. Right now, I can only hope that among Dajun’s generation, one or two might distinguish themselves, and that the title can be passed down without incident. Otherwise, I truly would not be able to face our ancestors.”

Zhao Kun said: “Brother, you must not sell yourself short. Today’s circumstances say nothing of tomorrow’s. Every person has their seasons of decline and fortune — who can say that the Lang Family will remain in low standing forever? Perhaps the next generation will produce someone who brings glory to the clan. And it need not be a son.”

As if to illustrate the very point — was not the reason for his visit today a perfect example of how fortunes could turn?

Lang Zhengping’s brow gave a subtle twitch, and he looked over.

Zhao Kun continued: “Don’t fret over the title succession either. It may well come through in a few days. Shen Boyü has been helping to smooth the way — whether it passes at the original rank is uncertain, but it won’t go poorly.”

Lang Zhengping’s heart gave a leap of joy. Boyü — that was Shen Qinghe’s courtesy name. He was a trusted figure at the Imperial Court, a man of upright character. If he were willing to speak on their behalf, there was certainly hope.

If this truly went through smoothly, it would be a very significant favor owed.

Lang Zhengping thought it over. Shen Qinghe would not ordinarily concern himself with his affairs, let alone intervene on his behalf — could it be because of Lang Jiuchuan?

“Was it because my Ninth Daughter did him a great service?” he asked Zhao Kun.

Zhao Kun nodded. “She is the great fortune that your late second brother passed down to you. The Lang Family has a blessed fate.”

Lang Zhengping’s breathing grew slightly unsteady, and the hand holding his teacup trembled faintly.

Such a high assessment?

Zhao Kun said no more. He turned to look toward the doorway, his expression carrying a trace of urgency.

He knew that the matter with Shen Peng had been resolved, and that Shen Qinghe’s assignment had been completed immaculately — all thanks to Lang Jiuchuan. He himself had not been able to believe that the child truly had such ability.

But the facts were plain to see. Shen Qinghe had not elaborated, but had shown deep gratitude toward Lang Jiuchuan — that attitude said everything.

All this achieved without having to call upon the Xuan Clan at great cost and negotiation. The matter had simply been handled.

That alone showed that Lang Jiuchuan had something to her.

Zhao Kun asked again: “Brother, do you truly have no idea what the child learned while she was at the estate?”

A flush crept across Lang Zhengping’s face, and he answered with some embarrassment: “As her uncle by adoption, I didn’t presume to inquire too deeply.”

Zhao Kun smiled, said nothing, but his expression was one that clearly did not quite agree — even as her uncle, she was still the posthumous orphan of his own blood brother. Should he not have done more to support and guide her?

From the looks of it, the Lang Family itself likely had very little idea of what Lang Jiuchuan was truly capable of.

Lang Zhengping caught that smile, lifted his teacup to conceal his discomfort, and also turned to look toward the doorway.

“The Ninth Young Miss has arrived,” the manservant announced from the door.

Zhao Kun straightened in his seat, and a perfectly measured smile appeared on his face.

Lang Jiuchuan walked in. Upon seeing Zhao Kun, the man seemed about to rise from his seat — but perhaps recalling his own status, settled back down.

Lang Zhengping noticed the subtlety, and a flicker of something passed through his eyes. Such eagerness — whatever he had come to ask for must be quite pressing.

“Jiuchuan is here. Your Uncle Zhao has come specifically to find you.”

Lang Jiuchuan gave Zhao Kun a small bow. “Uncle Zhao.”

“Oh, no need for formality.” Zhao Kun raised a hand slightly. “I heard that you helped the Shen Family resolve some unusual matters, and that Shen Daren spoke very highly of you. Well then, I’ll get straight to the point — I have a matter, and I don’t know if you have any way to help.”

Lang Zhengping pricked up his ears, and very attentively studied the plain patterns on his paper-thin porcelain teacup.

Zhao Kun glanced at him, saw him holding his cup with a vacant stare and playing innocent — neither leaving nor stepping back — and could not help but twitch the corner of his mouth. He turned to Lang Jiuchuan and said: “I have a close friend who has lived a very smooth and fortunate life — but within the span of a single month, his household has suffered one mishap after another. You could call it an unbroken streak of ill fortune. I don’t know if the Feng Shui has gone wrong. I thought, since you seem to have some skill in that area, perhaps you could take a look?”

Lang Jiuchuan said: “Who is this person, and what sort of man is he? You should know — the wicked receive their due reckoning from heaven itself. Cause and effect are perfectly just. It is not that retribution does not come — it simply has not come yet.”

Zhao Kun heard the underlying implication in her words, and quickly said: “He is certainly no wicked man—” He paused, cast a glance at Lang Zhengping, and said: “I won’t conceal it from you. This friend of mine is the top scholar of the sixteenth year of the late Emperor’s reign. Though he never entered official service, he has devoted himself to teaching, and has cultivated no small number of pillars of the state. He may not yet have students spanning the land like peach and plum trees, but in terms of learning and character, he can be called a great Confucian scholar of his region.”

Lang Zhengping exclaimed in surprise: “Can you be speaking of Master Xue, the Headmaster Xue Shiyong of the Luning Academy?”

Zhao Kun nodded. “Indeed, that is correct.”

“But this Xue Shi considers himself a man of letters and great Confucian virtue — he is most firmly of the belief that a gentleman does not speak of prodigies, force, disorder, or the supernatural. Tell him his Feng Shui has gone wrong and his fortunes have soured, and he won’t throw you out?”

Zhao Kun cleared his throat. “What scholar doesn’t keep those words on his lips — but who truly shows no reverence at all toward the gods and Buddhas? It’s just talk, nothing more.”

“Whether he’s reverent or not, I can’t say — but this Xue Shi genuinely cannot abide anything supernatural and spiritual, and he has actually thrown people out before.” Lang Zhengping looked at Lang Jiuchuan with a subtly significant glance. “A scholar’s tongue is a bloodless blade. This Xue Shi is someone who held his own in debate against an entire assembly of learned men in the late Emperor’s court — and that mouth of his is a match for yours.”

Equally venomous. Venomous enough to drive a person to shame and rage.

So if the young miss had thin skin, she’d best not go wandering in front of him. If she got a tongue-lashing and was splattered with ink, the humiliation would be significant.

Jiangche drifted out, eyes gleaming with excitement. “A teacher who educates the people, a headmaster of an academy, and someone of top-scholar caliber — the literary aura on him is exceptionally nourishing. What does it matter if he has a sharp tongue? Can his tongue be sharper than yours? You must accept this. You absolutely must.”

Literary aura — like righteousness, it was a pure and upright crimson energy. The merit gained from helping such a person would be no lesser a benefit than helping Shen Qinghe.

Lang Jiuchuan said: “From the way my Uncle has described him, this Xue Shi probably doesn’t believe he’s experiencing bad luck at all. And Uncle Zhao, did he consent to your seeking help? We can’t simply show up uninvited and come slinking back out with a face full of spittle.”

“Rest assured on that account — I naturally spoke to him first before coming to you.” Zhao Kun chuckled.

Lang Jiuchuan glanced over at Zhao Kun, and sensed that his confidence was somewhat lacking. But never mind that — literary aura was something she had been craving as well.

“Uncle, since Uncle Zhao has come in person, shall your niece accompany him and make this trip?”

Lang Zhengping heard the form of address, and his brow gave a twitch. Here we go — he would have to smooth the way behind her again.