News of the death of Qisi, the fourth young miss of the Zhongyong Marquis’s Qi Family household, spread widely, throwing everyone into a state of unease. The Kaiping Marquis’s Lang Family had also heard the news. Learning that the Zhongyong Marquis’s household had lifted the lockdown, Lang Zhengping quickly sent Lang Caimeng ahead with the household guards to escort Madam Cui and Lang Jiuchuan back to the manor — fearing they might come to harm.

On the third day of the new year, the Lang Family’s group followed the Pei Family’s convoy back into the city. Lang Jiuchuan had the Lu Family matter weighing on her mind, and after briefly notifying Madam Cui and the others, she set off for Tongtiange to check whether A’Piao had any news.

“The death of the Qi girl still hasn’t been fully investigated. Let your eldest brother accompany you.” Madam Cui made no comment on where Lang Jiuchuan was going and asked no questions — but she did send Lang Caimeng along with her.

Lang Jiuchuan had no particular agenda in mind. Seeing that Madam Cui clearly wouldn’t let her go without him tagging along, she simply nodded. If he wants to come, let him come.

Lang Caimeng knew what Tongtiange was — the kind of establishment where you didn’t dare walk past the front door without a heavy purse. You wanted intelligence? Bring enough silver. And beyond intelligence, they reportedly also dealt in rare weapons and precious treasures of all kinds.

And yet his ninth sister wanted to come to a place like this.

Lang Caimeng reached down to touch his coin pouch. The silver I brought today isn’t much. Oh well — he could put it on account. Have Tongtiange’s people come to the marquis’s manor to collect.

The moment Lang Jiuchuan stepped inside Tongtiange, A’Piao had just emerged from the back hall. Spotting her, he instantly wanted to turn around and retreat — to pretend he hadn’t seen her.

“A’Piao, a prosperous new year to you — and what a festive getup.” Lang Jiuchuan clasped her hands and dipped in a greeting bow. “May wealth and good fortune find you.”

A’Piao, dressed head to toe in red, nearly leapt out of his skin. He stepped back to dodge her bow: “Miss Nine, A’Piao doesn’t deserve such a greeting.”

He glanced past Lang Jiuchuan at the man following behind her — a member of the Lang Family, clearly. But why did the man keep avoiding his eyes?

What A’Piao didn’t know was that Lang Caimeng was busy gaping at the fist-sized luminous pearls displayed on the main hall’s lantern stand — apparently there purely for decoration or ambient lighting, just sitting there, glowing shamelessly.

Tongtiange indeed. Outrageously extravagant.

Lang Jiuchuan said to Lang Caimeng, “Elder brother, why don’t you wait down here for a bit? Look around, enjoy yourself — I’ll be back shortly.”

The carefully composed Lang Caimeng’s mouth twitched. “Look around, enjoy yourself” — do you have any idea how expensive everything in Tongtiange is?

A’Piao had a small spirit boy come out to serve tea to Lang Caimeng and lead him aside, then brought Lang Jiuchuan upstairs.

Once inside the room, Lang Jiuchuan produced a small box from her sleeve pouch and offered it to A’Piao. “A prosperous new year — there’s nothing particularly fine inside, so please don’t be too particular, Master A’Piao.”

A’Piao hesitated and didn’t dare accept it. When someone offers you something for nothing, they either have good intentions or bad ones — and accepting her gift likely meant paying a far heavier price in return.

Lang Jiuchuan pushed it into his hands anyway. “Take it. I only want to ask about something.”

A’Piao felt the weight of it in his hand and thought privately: The information you want, others would have to pay ten thousand taels to obtain.

But… fine.

“Miss really does know how to make things difficult for this old ghost.” A’Piao muttered, then said: “The matter you brought up last time — I had people investigate again. What you suspected wasn’t quite right. Everyone who came to that manor that day was confirmed to exist — but one person was still missed.”

“Oh?”

A’Piao produced two sheets of paper from his sleeve and held them out, saying, “This cost us quite a bit of ghostly effort — the information came from a newly arrived spirit, no easy feat…”

While A’Piao was still in the middle of his lament, Lang Jiuchuan had already taken the papers from his hands. Li Yifang. Born into the prominent Longxi Li clan. Married into the Lu Family household, to the third son who serves in the Ministry of Works. Known as Third Young Mistress Lu.

“This Third Young Mistress Lu wasn’t there as a guest enjoying the outing. She had been visiting relatives and was returning to the city when she suddenly fell ill on the road. She sought shelter at the manor as she passed by, asking the princess for permission to rest temporarily and see a physician. That is why she never appeared among the other guests — in fact, no one ever thought of her at all, as though she had never been there. I believe there is only one explanation: she used some form of secret technique, or administered some substance, to make people forget she had ever been present. That is why her name was absent from the list I gave you before.”

Lang Jiuchuan stared at the name. “Then how was she remembered at all?”

A’Piao’s voice was flat and cold: “A newly dead spirit knew of her — simply because at the back gate of the manor, this spirit had come face to face with her, and was immediately seized by her bodyguards, who snapped her neck and threw her into the water. After dying, the spirit wandered in a daze along the water’s edge for a long while. We only found her later — and it took considerable effort before she could recall what had happened to her. None of us expected her to have died that way.”

“What else did she know?”

“According to that young spirit,” A’Piao said, “there were three people with her at the time. One of them was carrying someone — bundled in a cloak, identity unclear. It’s not certain if that was you—” A’Piao’s expression changed abruptly mid-sentence. He shot backward toward the door, retreating from the sudden burst of fierce and overwhelming aura that erupted from Lang Jiuchuan.

A powerful, warning-laden Daoist presence began spreading through the room.

A’Piao pressed a hand to his scorched paper-body, his eyes carrying a trace of wariness. “Miss Nine — your previous self’s death had nothing to do with this old ghost.”

So please don’t kill the wrong person.

Lang Jiuchuan looked over at him, her eyes black shot through with flecks of gold — making A’Piao shrink back again.

“I apologize. That was the lingering resentment of this body.” Lang Jiuchuan pressed her fists together in a brief salute, then drew a stick of incense from her sleeve and lit it, waving it gently in A’Piao’s direction.

Soul Incense — it nourishes the soul, and for ghosts, it is the equivalent of food.

A’Piao drifted back to his seat at the table and took several long, greedy inhales. Such a wonderful fragrance.

Noticing Lang Jiuchuan’s expression had gone dark, he ventured cautiously: “A debt has a creditor, and a grievance has a source — you’ll find your way there eventually. Though, that Third Young Mistress Lu — being able to use a technique to make others forget her existence, she’s probably operating under a borrowed identity.”

“How so?”

“The age doesn’t add up.” A’Piao said. “That young spirit heard one of the bodyguards address her respectfully as ‘Madam’ — and by her appearance, she seemed to be somewhere in her early thirties. But the actual Third Young Mistress of the Lu Family is said to be under twenty.”

He glanced at the soul incense, then produced another sheet of paper and placed it on the table. On it was rendered half a portrait. Why only half?

Phoenix eyes. Willow-leaf brows. A fine, elegant nose. A tear-mole below the left eye, captivating and delicate. But below the nose — nothing.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes, black as polished obsidian, shifted toward A’Piao.

A’Piao’s paper-body tensed. He said quickly: “The child died carrying such terrible grievance that her soul was left wandering and confused — this was all she could recall. It’s not as though we ghosts are deliberately being difficult. Also — Third Young Mistress Lu does not look like this at all, which confirms the identity was borrowed.”

“Not just anyone’s identity — specifically hers. Does the Lu Family have a child studying under the Rong Family?”

“You’ve already looked into the Lu Family?” A’Piao said in surprise. “Yes, that’s true enough. He was sent there at the age of six, I believe — by now he’d be around sixteen or seventeen. Reportedly quite capable.”

“Capable?” Lang Jiuchuan said with a cold, scornful laugh. “If he were truly capable, the Lu Family wouldn’t have ended up as someone else’s weapon.”

Subordinates used as a distraction and shield were almost always the first to be discarded.

A’Piao didn’t dare contradict her — she wasn’t wrong. But the Lu Family had little choice. Earning the chance to be of real use required first becoming an effective instrument in another’s hands. That was the choice many made who struggled in the lower rungs of power — such was the way of the world.

Lang Jiuchuan traced an “X” with her fingernail over the characters for Lu Family.

Whether or not the Lu Family had been directly involved the day her previous self died — they were undeniably the Rong Family’s weapon.

“Rong Family — so it really was you.”

All right then.