The sound of Jiang Che’s noisy chattering rang continuously in her ears. Lang Jiuchuan’s eyelids twitched faintly, and she slowly opened her eyes — meeting the enormous face of a tiger staring down at her.

“You are unbearably loud,” she said, her voice hoarse. Bracing herself on her arms, she struggled to sit up from the bed. A tearing sensation of numbness and aching pressure spread through her chest — the symptom of magical power fully spent before it had had a chance to recover.

Jiang Che let out a sigh of relief. “You gave the tiger a fright. I really thought you were going to be done for. Quickly swallow some more medicine.”

Lang Jiuchuan felt limp and weak all over. “How long was I unconscious?”

“About half an hour, give or take. They also had a physician come and look at you — the physician said your constitution was severely depleted: deficiency of both vital energy and blood, strong on the outside but hollow within. Don’t get annoyed — I’m just passing on what the physician said.” Jiang Che took two steps back. “That body of yours — anyone who says it’s fine is lying through their teeth.”

Which was true — even the ghosts couldn’t be fooled. Hadn’t that Ten-Thousand-Ghost Matriarch kept calling her a short-lived ghost?

Lang Jiuchuan gave a cold snort. “If you had even a little more power, I wouldn’t have had to fight both of those mother-and-son ghosts back to back, and I wouldn’t have had to drain myself completely dry.”

Jiang Che felt a pang of guilt. “I’m just a mass of spiritual consciousness. If I had a physical form and magical power, I could ascend to the heavens and descend into the earth, undefeatable in every battle…”

Even he couldn’t finish saying it with a straight face — he had failed to cross the heavenly tribulation for a reason: he hadn’t been strong enough.

Lang Jiuchuan let out a sound of contempt, and the laugh carried a note of ridicule.

The sound of footsteps approached, and soon someone rounded the screen partition. She saw Lang Jiuchuan sitting up and nearly dropped the medicine bowl in her hands: “Young Miss is awake — you gave me such a fright, you truly did.” She let out a sob. “Wuu wuu.”

Jian Lan rushed over in quick steps, set the medicine bowl to one side, her eyes red-rimmed — clearly she had cried a great deal. Her face was equally pale, her eyes hiding traces of shock and lingering fear.

“I’m fine. I told you not to follow me, and now you’ve frightened yourself, haven’t you?”

Jian Lan said in a choked voice, “If this maidservant had not come, I would not have known the danger that Young Miss puts herself through. And besides — if this maidservant hadn’t come, you would not have had a single person of your own by your side.”

Far too lonely, and far too pitiable.

Lang Jiuchuan, afraid she would cry, said, “I was only drained of energy — nothing serious.”

Jian Lan did not dare contradict her, and simply picked up the medicine bowl and said, “This is a ginseng broth to replenish and restore the vital center. The hundred-year-old ginseng was sent by Master Youhe — this maidservant brewed it herself. Please drink it, Young Miss.”

Lang Jiuchuan took it and drank it in one go. She raised a hand and wiped the corner of her mouth and asked, “Where are we? Help me up — this matter still isn’t over.”

Jian Lan’s face went pale again. Did that mean there was still more fighting and ghost-slaying to be done?

She hadn’t witnessed the battle herself, but she had seen those servants of the Ou Family who had been struck by the yin killing energy — all of them with a layer of ominous dark energy covering their faces. Just getting close to them made her hands and feet go cold, her whole body shiver.

All the more so because Lang Jiuchuan — a perfectly healthy young person — had come to the Ou Family estate and ended up lying in a bed, with the physician pronouncing that her lifespan would not be long.

Jian Lan’s expression was full of grief. “Young Miss, the estate will certainly not let you go without sufficient food and clothing.”

So you have no need to push yourself like this — you could simply be an ordinary pampered young daughter of a noble household, like the other young ladies of the family.

Lang Jiuchuan was momentarily taken aback, then curved her lips and said, “You don’t understand — this is my fate.”

Jian Lan felt her heart seize.

Seeing Lang Jiuchuan lift the quilt with trembling hands to get out of bed, Jian Lan rushed forward to support her. The moment she was steady on her feet, Ou Luozhong came hurrying in — and beside him was his wife, Madam Ou.

The two of them saw that she was awake, and both broke into expressions of pure relief and joy. They quickened their steps toward her, and without another word, knelt before her.

Lang Jiuchuan was so startled she stepped back, moving slightly to one side to avoid the full brunt of the gesture. “What are you doing?”

“Ninth Young Miss — thank you for saving our entire family, young and old alike. We hold your great kindness and virtue deep in our hearts. We will also erect a tablet in your honor and make offerings to it day and night.” Ou Luozhong bowed his head to the ground first.

Madam Ou’s eyes, too, were bright with tears. She pressed both hands together at her forehead and bowed low in solemn reverence.

Not only had she saved her daughter — she had also saved her daughter-in-law and her grandchild. For these three lives alone, such a deep bow was entirely warranted.

Lang Jiuchuan said in a steady voice, “Don’t be in a hurry to kowtow — this matter is still not resolved. I have only alleviated the most immediate crisis for your daughter. The situation with the young lady herself has not truly been settled. And as for what I want in return — when the time comes, I simply ask that you not chase me out with a broom.”

Husband and wife both felt a jolt. They exchanged a glance, the atmosphere growing rather solemn.

……

The room Lang Jiuchuan had been resting in was in a small courtyard adjacent to the Ou Family’s youngest daughter. The group made their way to Ou Miaonan’s room. The courtyard, which had been in complete disarray, had long since been tidied up. Ou Miaonan lay on the bed, the talisman Lang Jiuchuan had placed on her forehead still in place.

Ou Luozhong said, “While you hadn’t yet woken, we didn’t know what to do — so we didn’t dare remove the talisman, and Miaomiao hasn’t woken since.”

Lang Jiuchuan explained, “Her body was possessed by an evil soul. Her spirit soul has been badly frightened and is not at ease. The talisman I placed on her is a Soul-Steadying, Evil-Warding Talisman — it allows her to rest securely within her own body and prevents wandering spirits from sensing an opportunity and taking possession.”

So that was the reason. Ou Luozhong, with his wife leaning against him, let out a breath of partial relief.

Lang Jiuchuan stepped forward and removed the talisman, setting it by the bedside. She looked at Ou Miaonan carefully, her lips pressing into a thin line.

The yin energy in the room had not yet fully dissipated. The child lay tucked in thick brocade covers, a small bundle curled beneath them.

This child was no older than twelve, yet she had already survived a life-and-death ordeal. It was as though someone had willingly used their merits and cultivation to shield and protect her, to secure for her a single slender thread of miraculous chance — and the fact that her birth date and hour were never spoken to outsiders, only permitted to be revealed at age twelve, suggested that someone had long since calculated she would face a life-and-death tribulation at this point in her life.

Lang Jiuchuan took hold of her wrist. The wrist was thin and without flesh — terribly frail. The small face, barely the size of a palm and tapering to a delicate point, was all the more endearing for it. Because she had spent her days in constant unease, worry, and fear — suffering greatly from the torments her constitution brought — she appeared just as frail as Lang Jiuchuan’s own body.

Lang Jiuchuan took out the Panguan writing brush. The jade-bone spirit brush, having endured a fierce battle, had grown ever more translucent, and together with the Dizhong Bell at her waist, it was noticeably more luminous and remarkable than before.

Lang Jiuchuan held the spirit brush and lightly tapped it against Ou Miaonan’s forehead. Her magical power had not yet returned, and any major action was beyond her — for now, she could only help the girl wake, lest a spirit soul that lingered too long without clarity become lost in itself, unwilling — or unable — to return.

“Ou Miaonan — it is time to open your eyes and wake.”

Ou Miaonan’s eyelids trembled. Her eyeballs shifted beneath her closed lids, and something like a sharp prick struck the inner gate acupoint of her wrist. She gave the faintest shiver, then slowly opened her eyes.

“She’s awake, she’s awake!” Madam Ou clutched her husband’s arm in excitement, tears flowing from her eyes.

Ou Luozhong’s eyes, too, were moist.

The first thing Ou Miaonan saw when she opened her eyes was the familiar canopy of her bed. Then she heard her mother’s voice. She slowly turned her head — and the first person she saw was a young girl who appeared to be veiled in a thin layer of mist.

And yet, she could clearly make out the young girl’s features. Their eyes met.

With that single meeting of gazes, Ou Miaonan was suddenly flooded with an overwhelming tide of grievance. The terror and dread she had lived with because of her constitution, all the hurt and silent protest she had never dared show her family — in front of Lang Jiuchuan, it all dissolved into tears that rolled silently down her face and were absorbed into her pillow.