Lang Jiuchuan left the shop and headed to Tongtian Pavilion.

A’Piao, the ghost of Tongtian Pavilion, spotted her from far away and felt his ghostly form ache with dread — yet he had no choice but to go out to meet her.

“I was just wondering when the young miss would arrive. The information you requested has already been prepared.”

Lang Jiuchuan said, “From the look on your face, I’d say you were hoping I’d never come back.”

“How could that be? All who come to the door are guests — who would not welcome an honored visitor?” A’Piao smiled falsely.

Lang Jiuchuan didn’t expose him. She had Jian Lan wait downstairs while she went up to the same room she had visited the first time. Walking to the window, she looked out and found she could see a corner of Tongtian Pavilion’s rear courtyard.

That day — the unidentifiable presence — it had come from that direction, hadn’t it?

She gazed at the courtyard for a long moment, tilting her head slightly, before withdrawing her gaze. “Speak. What have you found?”

A’Piao sat down at the table, his voice going hoarse, and began from the origins of Lang Jiuchuan’s background.

Most of it overlapped with what Lang Jiuchuan had already learned on her own — but one detail caught her attention. She hadn’t expected Tongtian Pavilion to have dug this deep.

“You say that the Second Madam of the Lang Family was absolutely convinced, upon seeing the child, that the infant was not her own flesh and blood — that someone had made a switch. Was this truly the case, or was it a delusion brought on by the exhaustion of childbirth? A woman giving birth walks the line between life and death. It’s not impossible to mistake things, especially in a daze.” Lang Jiuchuan asked.

A’Piao replied, “Whether it was a delusion or the truth — to get to the bottom of it completely, one would need to reverse time itself, and who in this world possesses that kind of power? Alternatively, there is soul-searching, but forcibly searching the soul, especially of a living person, carries enormous karmic consequences. No one would dare bear that cause-and-effect, not even you, miss — would you?”

Soul-searching caused harm to others — the karmic backlash would be severe.

He tapped the table lightly and said, “The Second Madam of the Lang Family was absolutely convinced the child was not her own because she believed the daughter she had given birth to bore a birthmark on the back of her neck.”

As he spoke, he glanced at Lang Jiuchuan — as though he were trying to see through to the back of her neck from the front.

Lang Jiuchuan’s posture didn’t shift. She had already heard this detail from Jian Lan. Cui Shi had asked her to check herself — but there was nothing there.

“This madam, as it happens, once commissioned us to investigate the whereabouts of that birthmark,” A’Piao said suddenly.

Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze sharpened like a blade. “She placed an order?”

A’Piao nodded. “Many years ago. I could see she was deeply fixated on finding the girl with that birthmark. She was firmly convinced that the child in the household was not her biological daughter.”

“And even Tongtian Pavilion couldn’t find anything?” Lang Jiuchuan narrowed her eyes.

A’Piao said, “Miss, some things require the right circumstances to come to light — intelligence is no different.”

A lie.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Continue.”

A’Piao went on to recount the details of how Lang Jiuchuan had been sent to the manor estate. She had been sent away at the age of three. The old matriarch of the Lang Family, taking pity on her — having lost her father and been abandoned by her mother, left small and alone — had accompanied her for several years. A private tutor had been arranged at the estate for her upbringing. Aside from not growing up in Wu Jing, her food and clothing were no different from that of other noble daughters.

But being raised at an estate was, after all, not the same as living in Wu Jing. In everyone’s eyes, she was still the unimportant daughter who had been cast aside and left to grow up on her own by the marquis household.

When she turned ten, the old matriarch of the Lang Family was getting on in years, and weighed down by grief over the early death of her son, she began to show signs of dementia. She was brought back to Wu Jing for treatment. Her condition fluctuated — sometimes better, sometimes worse — and eventually she even forgot about Lang Jiuchuan entirely.

Without an elder to accompany her, Lang Jiuchuan’s days at first were not terrible — there was still an old servant personally appointed by the old matriarch to care for her closely. But as the years passed without anyone coming to bring her back, she was clearly being overlooked.

Especially after she turned twelve — when the marquis household still sent no one for her. People said all sorts of things. A girl who had grown to twelve years of age had reached the age of learning household management, of making social connections in capital circles, of being shown off to prospective families as evidence that the household had a daughter of marriageable age.

Yet there was not a single sign of anyone coming to bring Lang Jiuchuan back. Whether it was truly forgetting her or not — she had been, for all practical purposes, half-abandoned.

That year she turned twelve, the old servant died. She had no one left to protect her, and only herself to rely on — but she found a companion.

The young miss at the hot spring estate next door, also sent there to recuperate — the two of them, in one spring season, became the closest of friends.

Lang Jiuchuan opened her eyes at this point. “Whose estate was that?”

“A dowry estate belonging to the Princess Huicheng. Princess Huicheng is the current Emperor’s paternal cousin. She is married to the Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi, Wei Song Qianning, and has two daughters and one son. The friend you played with was her younger daughter — Song Xinyue.”

A’Piao said, “For those two years, the only person you played with was her.”

Lang Jiuchuan stared at him steadily. He didn’t look away — his expression said: So what, I’ve said it outright, you’re a ghost too.

The only difference is she’s a bit stronger than me — she has a physical body to inhabit. Pity it’s a worn-out, broken shell.

There was a thread of killing intent in Lang Jiuchuan’s voice. “Was it she who killed the original Lang Jiuchuan?”

A’Piao shuddered from head to toe and said, “Not quite. That Song Xinyue is even a year younger than you. And besides — she is simple-minded.”

Lang Jiuchuan was taken aback.

“But the day you died, you were indeed at her estate to play.” A’Piao shook his head. “According to what the ghost informants along our intelligence network said — that day, quite a number of people came to that estate.”

“Who?”

“Princess Huicheng brought a group of ladies and noble daughters for a pleasure outing to the hot spring estate.”

Lang Jiuchuan thought inwardly: This is bad. With so many people, it would be hard to investigate — she had no idea which one among them had made the move.

She tapped the tabletop lightly. If for the past two years she and Song Xinyue of the Song Family had been close friends, Princess Huicheng couldn’t have been unaware — yet she hadn’t stopped it. And when she brought a group of noble ladies and their daughters to the estate for an outing, the original host body died a miserable death in a mass grave.

Was this a coincidence, or had the killer deliberately used the crowd and the chaos to divert suspicion?

No. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

If killing her had been an impulse, no one would have struck with such viciousness. And stepping back further — even if someone had a taste for cruel killing, how would they have had the means to bind her soul? The fact was, the killer had not only murdered her but obliterated her soul as well. What ordinary person could do that?

Unless, among that group, there was someone who practiced the Daoist arts — that would explain everything.

Thinking this, Lang Jiuchuan radiated a surge of cold, murderous ferocity from her entire being — a savagery so deep it made even ghosts afraid.

A’Piao trembled all over, barely stopping himself from bolting out the door.

How can this be… she’s the same as the master — three parts dread she inspires in any ghost.

Lang Jiuchuan looked over at him. “Did anyone make a list of the people who went that day?”

“Yes, yes they did.” A’Piao had long since prepared it, and thrust the paper toward her with shaking hands — shaking so badly he could barely hold it together.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at his utterly undignified state and said, “What are you panicking for? I’m not going to swallow you whole.”

A’Piao’s hand shook again. He forced out a smile.

It wasn’t that he wanted to panic — a nameless dread had simply seized him.

The paper was written clearly and neatly. Lang Jiuchuan read through it, and her gaze suddenly froze — someone from the Qi Family had been there too, and it was none other than the Countess Guiyang herself.

Lang Jiuchuan narrowed her eyes and tapped at the name of the Qi Family. What a coincidence this is not.

A’Piao watched her gesture, his gaze falling on the Qi Family’s entry, and said, “That Countess Guiyang — I hear she’s not long for this world.”