Cui Shi had not had an easy life — Lang Jiuchuan understood that well enough, and even as an outsider, one could see how rough her path had been. But she would not, on account of another’s hardships and pitiable circumstances, substitute herself for the original soul and forgive her wrongdoings. Wrong was wrong. There was no washing that clean.

When Nanny Gu had asked whether she harbored hatred toward Madam, the truth was it fell short of towering resentment — she simply did not agree with her choices. Nor could she claim deep empathy, for she was not the original soul, after all.

The only one with the right to speak of forgiveness was the original.

What she was maintaining now was merely the bond between the original soul and the Lang Family. What the future held — she would likely understand once she had settled the unfinished cause and consequence of the original’s death.

The one thing Lang Jiuchuan truly cared about was this: at her first meeting with Cui Shi, she had unmistakably felt the pull of a blood tie.

She had entered Qichi Pavilion, yet Cui Shi was not resting in her bedchamber — she had gone to the prayer hall instead.

Molan led her around to the small prayer hall and said quietly, “Miss, please also persuade Madam to take better care of herself. Her health is the most important thing.”

Lang Jiuchuan entered the small prayer hall to find Cui Shi kneeling upright on a meditation cushion, her posture perfectly straight, both hands clasped around a string of rosewood prayer beads as she murmured sutras under her breath.

On the offering table before her, however, it was not a bodhisattva’s statue that stood — but two memorial tablets, one large and one small. The larger bore the name of Lady Qin; the smaller bore the surname Cui, with a single character — Yuan.

These were the tablets of Cui Shi’s mother and her brother who had died in infancy.

On a separate offering table stood Lang Zhengfan’s memorial tablet alone, likewise tended with an ever-burning lamp, sandalwood incense, and fresh fruits and flowers.

Lang Jiuchuan regarded the several tablets and reflected that half of the most important people in this life were enshrined here — and counting the original soul, more than half.

Setting grievances aside, the departed deserve reverence.

After a moment’s thought, she stepped forward, drew two sticks of sandalwood from the incense holder, lit them, held them in both hands, and bowed before the tablets of Old Madam Qin and Cui Yuan. She placed them in the censer and lowered her head in quiet mourning for the departed.

Then she took one more stick and bowed before Lang Zhengfan’s tablet. When she turned around, she found Cui Shi staring at her with a complicated expression.

“Madam is punishing herself with her own health,” Lang Jiuchuan said lightly. “All that accomplishes is causing worry for those who serve her. If Madam truly has a compassionate heart, why torment the people around her?”

Cui Shi’s face was pallid. Supported by Nanny Cheng, she rose to her feet, looked toward the two tablets, and explained, “These are my mother’s and my brother’s tablets.”

“Mm.”

Cui Shi gazed at the tablets and asked, “You know the arcane arts — tell me, am I an inauspicious person, cursed to bring misfortune to my kin? How else to explain it — my mother, my brother, and…” Her eyes moved to Lang Zhengfan’s tablet. “Your father — all of them left so early.”

Lang Jiuchuan silently added the original soul to that count but did not say it aloud. Instead she said, “Old Master Cui is still very much alive and well. That hardly counts.”

A vein twitched at Cui Shi’s temple. Suddenly she had no idea what to say.

It was the truth, wasn’t it!

Lang Jiuchuan continued, “Madam was born into a distinguished family and surely studied letters from childhood. Do you truly believe in the notion of being cursed to harm one’s kin?”

Cui Shi’s voice turned cold: “If not for that, why is it that I am the one who did not die?”

Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze was cool and detached. “Everyone dies eventually. When the hour arrives, the underworld messenger will come to escort them on their way.”

Cui Shi: “……”

Truly — this was enough to infuriate someone to death, and no one would be held responsible!

Nanny Cheng’s vision went dark for a moment. She scolded gently, “Miss!”

If you cannot comfort someone, then not speaking at all would also be perfectly acceptable.

But Cui Shi had been so thoroughly rebuffed by Lang Jiuchuan’s string of blunt rejoinders that her sorrow dissipated by more than half. Taking Nanny Cheng’s arm, she walked out of the prayer hall.

Back in her bedchamber, Cui Shi sank against the large bolster pillow as though all the vitality had been drained from her, and said, “The Cui Family — that is to say, my father’s side — has returned to the capital to take up a post. From now on the Cui Family will be in Wu Jing, and you are likely to encounter them. Keep that in mind.”

“Nanny Gu has already told me.”

Cui Shi glanced at her and continued, “There is also the matter of adopting an heir. Do you have any thoughts on it?”

Lang Jiuchuan lifted her eyelids, her expression languid and indifferent, and cast a sideways glance. “Madam may decide as she sees fit.”

“If you were to—”

“Madam,” Lang Jiuchuan cut her off. “How long I will remain in the Lang Family is already an open question. What is more, I never intended to marry and take a husband. So do not look to me to bring in a son-in-law and produce children to continue this line. The matter of adopting an heir — whichever child you feel a connection with, discuss it with First Uncle Lang and settle it with him.”

Upon hearing this, Cui Shi’s complexion went even paler, her lips trembling faintly.

The two regarded each other in silence for a long moment. Cui Shi drew a deep breath and said, “Let us revisit this matter another time. As for the memorial rite for your father this year — because the eldest son of the Zhenbei Marquis Household is to be wed in the third month, the Marquis of Zhenbei will be returning to preside over the wedding, and we were thinking of holding the Daoist ceremony for your father earlier than usual.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s heart stirred. “Does he truly perform the Daoist ceremony for Father every year?”

Cui Shi nodded, and the cool elegance of her features softened with a trace of warmth. “Indeed he does. He guards the northern frontier, and when he cannot return in person, he sends his eldest son to preside in his stead.”

“He is now a full marquis, yet has performed the ceremony for Father year after year for more than a decade. That is no small amount of sincerity.”

Cui Shi did not think too much of it and simply replied, “In those years, he served as your father’s deputy general. The two were close as brothers. It was he who carried your father’s body back from the battlefield on his own back.”

Her voice wavered, and the corners of her eyes reddened, as though she could not bear to revisit the memory.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Then when the time comes, I shall take a careful look at this uncle-figure of mine, and see how genuine his sincerity truly is.”

Cui Shi, upon hearing these words, had the persistent feeling that there was an ulterior meaning beneath them, and found herself oddly unsettled.

“Madam should rest. I will go pay my respects to the Old Madam.” Lang Jiuchuan rose, gave her a small bow, and took her leave.

Cui Shi sat in a daze for a long while before asking, “Nanny, what did she mean when she said that how long she stays in the Lang Family is already an open question?”

Nanny Cheng smiled and replied, “Madam has exchanged more words with Miss today than ever before, and there was less sting to it. This old servant believes things will only grow better with time.”

Cui Shi fell silent.

Many things in this world unfold contrary to one’s wishes.

After paying her respects to the Old Madam, Lang Jiuchuan returned to the study, where Jiangche was waiting with something on the table before him. He pointed at it and said, “Look what treasure I dug up!”

Lang Jiuchuan walked quickly over and picked up the object from the table. It was a jade imperial seal carved in the form of a blue-green dragon — no larger than four cun square — with five dragons entwining at the top knob, and the eight seal-script characters “Ordained by Heaven, May It Long Endure” carved on the face.

“This is the true formation eye hidden beneath the stone stele?” Her eyes narrowed to half-mast. “The Imperial Transmission Seal, suppressing the formation eye. Then what is the seal Tantai is using now?”

She had indeed guided the souls of the Fujiajun through without disturbing the formation — but that did not mean she would leave a Nine-Palace Eight-Trigram formation standing there and turn a blind eye. What if, after the Tantai discovered the vanished heroic souls, they flew into a mad frenzy and fed more souls with accumulated merit into the formation to keep it running again?

That kind of opportunity — she had absolutely no intention of giving to the Tantai clan!

“What else could it be? A fake, of course.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s hand jolted. A fake — meaning for the past two hundred years, Tantai had been issuing authentic imperial commands with a counterfeit seal?