Back in the meditation courtyard, Lang Jiuchuan spread out a sheet of paper and wrote down several names, connecting them with lines. Her fingertip rested on the name of Madam Lu.

If the Lu Family’s fourth son was indeed apprenticed to the Rong Family, then the Lu Family had well and truly become the Rong Family’s attack dog. Setting aside whoever the Daoist who had struck at her from a distance the first time might be — the black hand behind the desecration at the Lang Family patriarch’s funeral ceremony had almost certainly been the Lu Family’s doing. After all, they had moved far too eagerly to eliminate Yiniang Chen.

Lang Jiuchuan recalled something Lang Zhengping had mentioned in passing: the Lu Family had a decent enough reputation in Wu Jing. The family head was said to be an amiable, agreeable sort — capable and reliable in his affairs. Both the main wife and the daughters-in-law of the Lu household were known for their virtue and gentleness; the inner quarters were tranquil and harmonious, wives and concubines alike getting along without strife.

The kind of household that gave others nothing to criticize, nothing blatantly offensive to point at.

That was precisely it — they had the audacity to cut off someone else’s bloodline entirely.

The dog that bites does not bark. Truer words were never spoken.

From outside came a sound of activity. Lang Jiuchuan stepped out and asked Jian Lan what had happened.

“Word has come from Princess Zhao’an,” Jian Lan said. “Huguo Temple is a place of sacred cultivation and devotion — it’s wrong to make all these visitors uneasy while they’ve come to pay their respects. So she has ordered the Qi Family to lift the lockdown. Anyone who wishes to return to the city may now leave freely.”

Lang Jiuchuan narrowed her eyes. “Go next door to the Pei Family quarters and see whether they are leaving. If they are, we will follow along with them.”

She herself had no concerns about staying in the temple alone — but Madam Cui and the others who had accompanied her and Madam Cui to light the lanterns were still here, along with guards and servants. To avoid any further incidents, it was better to travel with a large, influential group — especially now that a murder had occurred.

As for Princess Zhao’an…

Lang Jiuchuan cast her gaze in that direction. The princess’s guards were speaking with some of the temple monks, while other guards looked around restlessly — and by the look of it, they weren’t announcing anything. They were searching for something.

“You’re still on that prince consort’s radar,” Lang Jiuchuan murmured, her eyes cooling. “Right now, they’re likely looking for you.”

From inside the pagoda, Jiangche rolled around and drawled lazily, “Everyone knows I’m a treasure — everyone except you. You’d better keep a tight grip on me, or I might just run off.”

Lang Jiuchuan gave a cold snort. “Still got enough energy to talk back — clearly well enough recovered. Come out and gather some intelligence.”

Jiangche fell silent.

Jian Lan soon returned and reported: “The Pei Family says it’s nearly midday already. Setting off now, they’d have to rush to make it through the city gates before closing time. With the cold weather and difficult roads, that kind of hurrying could be dangerous — so they’ll wait and leave together first thing tomorrow morning.”

Lang Jiuchuan nodded. “Then let the Pei Family know we’ll be joining their group.”

Jian Lan acknowledged the instruction and sent someone off to make the arrangements.

Lang Jiuchuan looked toward the princess’s guards, thought for a moment, then said, “Let’s go to the Wangsheng Hall.”

She deliberately passed close by the guards. One of them looked over at her, and she gave a small, startled flinch — just convincingly enough — letting Jian Lan and the servants cluster around her protectively.

The guard’s gaze swept across her pale face and moved on. He walked over to another guard and asked quietly, “Anything?”

“Nothing.”

As Lang Jiuchuan walked away from them, she caught one of them saying, “Huguo Temple is packed with noise and people. There’s no way a tiger just wandered down the mountain. I have no idea what they’ve sent us here to find.”

“Shut your mouth. Want to lose your head? Whatever those above tell you to do — you do it.”

Lang Jiuchuan kept her expression perfectly blank as she continued toward the Wangsheng Hall. They were looking for Jiangche, as expected. Given that Cong Bingling’s artifact had already illuminated Jiangche’s spiritual consciousness — and Jiangche, being a divine creature, was not something anyone would simply let slip away.

Inside the Wangsheng Hall, Gong Qi and the others had just finished discussing how best to investigate the demonic entity. Shen Qinghe had also completed his interrogation of Qisi’s maids and attendants, and they were on the verge of heading to the vegetarian dining hall — when they looked up and found Lang Jiuchuan walking back in.

“Why are you back again?” Shen Qinghe asked.

“There’s something I wanted to ask,” Lang Jiuchuan said. “And since it’s almost noon, shall we have the vegetarian meal together?”

Shen Qinghe was more than happy to agree — though including Gong Qi was slightly less appealing.

He sent Chang Gui down to make the arrangements.

Shan Gong and the others didn’t press to join, so in the end it was only Gong Qi, Shen Qinghe, and Lang Jiuchuan sharing the meal — which was precisely whom she had intended to invite.

Silence at the table, silence in the bed — as the old saying went.

The vegetarian fare at Huguo Temple was impressively prepared. The three of them ate their fill quickly and settled into drinking tea at their leisure.

“You came back — it can’t be just for a shared meal. Did you think of something?” Gong Qi took a sip of tea and slumped lazily against the side of the low table with complete disregard for proper posture.

Shen Qinghe looked away in mild irritation. If Gong Qi had a toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth right now, he’d be the very picture of a common ruffian — and this was supposedly someone of Xuan Clan heritage. Tch.

Lang Jiuchuan cradled her teacup and turned the question back on them: “What is your current approach to this murder case?”

“Going by the twin puncture wounds on her neck, we’re still inclined toward a jiangshi or a demonic beast as the cause — something a human being simply could not replicate,” Gong Qi said. “If a jiangshi is at large, it must have emerged from a tomb. We’ll first check whether any burial sites in the vicinity have been disturbed, then trace from there. We’ll look into demonic beasts as well.”

“Ah. Casting a net into the open sea.”

Gong Qi gave her a sideways look. “Do you have a better method? This case also requires coordination with the authorities — which means requesting Magistrate Shen here to dispatch personnel to assist in the search.”

Lang Jiuchuan frowned and asked, “Has nothing useful been found on that man Zhuo Yu? His legal wife is also on the list of missing women with pure Yin birth dates — and just yesterday, I saw him exchanging glances with Qisi.”

Shen Qinghe replied, “We’ve already looked into him. Zhuo Yu left the temple and returned to the city after paying his respects at the altar yesterday. However, the matter of his legal wife likely has something to do with him. I’ve already sent someone to investigate him discreetly — I’m hoping there will be a lead.”

Lang Jiuchuan was briefly taken aback, a faint ripple of disappointment crossing her thoughts. Another wrong guess?

“Also — Miss Qisi was not abducted from her own quarters. She and a maid left under cover of night and went to the pear tree grove. That personal maid of hers was found dead in the grove.”

“How did she die?”

“Her neck was snapped. Killed by human hands.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s brow rose. “Then it was a human act.” She turned to Gong Qi: “If you don’t know why Qisi and the maid left for the grove, you might try asking the maid herself — why they went there.”

“My Daoist training is lacking and not yet refined — hardly up to your level of skill. Why don’t you do it?” Gong Qi smiled cheerfully.

Shen Qinghe, who had been trying to follow the veiled exchange between the two, frowned. The person is dead. How exactly does one ask her anything?

“Forget it then.” Lang Jiuchuan turned to Shen Qinghe: “Whatever drew them to the pear grove, it wasn’t without reason. That’s worth investigating. And even if Zhuo Yu left the temple, that could easily have been a feint. The man is cunning and calculating.”

She still didn’t believe Zhuo Yu was innocent.

“That’s precisely what I intend to do.” Shen Qinghe gave a nod.

Lang Jiuchuan took another sip of tea, and finally came to the true purpose of her visit: “The prince consort of Princess Zhao’an — might the… elder uncle be acquainted with him?”

Gong Qi’s eyes flickered. There it is. This was what she had really come for. She must have discovered something amiss.

Shen Qinghe was also a little surprised by the sudden shift in direction — from a murder case to the current princess consort’s husband — but he considered it briefly and said, “Princess Zhao’an’s prince consort would be Cong Jingling, the second son of Cong Yihe, the current Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.”

Lang Jiuchuan was startled. “From the Director’s family?”

“Yes. The Cong Family has served the Bureau of Celestial Observations for the Da Phan Kingdom for generations.”

No wonder he had such sharp instincts. Family tradition ran deep — which meant that members of his household had, to varying degrees, knowledge of Daoist arts.

“Do the Cong Family practice Daoist arts?”

Gong Qi smiled lightly. “Naturally. An ancestor of the Cong Family even successfully completed Foundation Establishment. These days, most of their members train within the Xuan Clan. Why do you ask?”

Lang Jiuchuan tapped her teacup with a fingertip, hesitated, then said, “I have a lead of sorts. I’m not certain if it’s connected.”

“Oh?”

“Princess Zhao’an’s fetus — there’s something strange about it.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at Gong Qi. “The child she is carrying is saturated with Yin energy.”

A small personal note from the author: I went to see a doctor of traditional medicine about my neck, and they prescribed electrotherapy, acupuncture, and thread embedding — the acupuncture needles drew blood from the back of my neck, and the thread embedding was genuinely agonizing. It made me think — if acupuncture and thread embedding hurt this much, how much worse must serious illness or childbirth be? And it’s all so expensive. Truly, good health is wealth. Wishing good health upon all of you and upon myself!