On the first day of the Lunar New Year, Lang Jiuchuan rose before dawn to kowtow and pay her New Year’s respects to the Old Madam of the Lang Family. She also tied a protective talisman around the old woman’s wrist. After all the masters of the Lang household, young and old alike, had come to offer their greetings and they had shared an early morning meal together, she then followed Cui Shi to Huguo Temple.

By long-standing custom, whenever Cui Shi made this journey, she would not return to the city until the third day of the new year. So a good number of trunks and boxes had been packed and prepared, since they would naturally be staying in the meditation courtyard of Huguo Temple.

Inside the carriage, Jian Lan said to Lang Jiuchuan, “Madam has never visited the Cui Family to pay her respects over the years. So every year on the first day of the new year, she comes to the temple to light a lamp for the General instead, and only returns on the third.”

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Is she on bad terms with the Cui Family?”

Jian Lan shook her head. “This servant did not follow Madam from the time of her marriage — I was only transferred to Qichi Pavilion later. So I am not entirely sure of the details. However, Madam’s birth mother passed away long ago. The current Cui Madam is a second wife. Madam does not go back to the Cui Family for New Year visits, claiming that as a widow, it would be improper for her to go out.”

Lang Jiuchuan was unmoved by this reasoning. What kind of widowhood required someone to nearly sever all ties with her own family? There was surely something deeper going on — though it had nothing to do with her either way.

Jian Lan, seeing she had not given the matter much thought, continued, “Though she does not go in person, she still sends gifts on the three major festivals each year. The Cui Family sends gifts in return as well.”

Lang Jiuchuan took out the Diamond Pagoda and turned it over in her hands, saying with an air of detachment, “Born of the Cui Clan, with its deep and weighty family codes — she would never give anyone cause to speak ill of her.”

She was Cui Shi in surname after all. Her conduct would have to be worthy of that name.

Jian Lan murmured her agreement. “Madam is indeed one who holds firmly to propriety.” She glanced at the small pagoda and felt a faint chill emanating from it. “Young Miss, what is this?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked up and noticed the slightly greenish tinge to Jian Lan’s complexion. She had momentarily forgotten — Jian Lan was just an ordinary girl, while the pagoda’s fierce aura had not yet faded. For a common person to come into close contact with it at such range would naturally cause discomfort.

She had been careless.

Lang Jiuchuan reached into her sleeve and drew out a sheet of yellow paper and a vial of cinnabar ink. She summoned her talisman brush, dipped it in the cinnabar, and drew a protective charm for Jian Lan. She blew it dry, folded it into a triangle, and handed it over.

“A protective talisman. May the New Year bring great fortune.”

Jian Lan immediately received it with both hands and knelt on the floor of the carriage, pressing her forehead to the ground in a bow. “This servant is deeply grateful for Young Miss’s gift.”

She looked at the talisman in her hands with delight, then carefully tucked it into the folds of her garment close to her body and pressed her hand over it.

Seeing this, Lang Jiuchuan said, “It is only a talisman — there’s no need to treat it as something so precious.”

Jian Lan replied with an earnest expression, “A talisman drawn by Young Miss must be of the finest quality — worth a thousand gold pieces and impossible to come by.”

She was someone who had followed Lang Jiuchuan to the Ou Family’s home and witnessed great things firsthand. Naturally she understood exactly what Lang Jiuchuan was capable of. A protective talisman given by her would surely be extraordinarily effective.

And indeed — the moment the talisman reached her hands, the cold and gloomy sensation she had felt just moments before vanished entirely.

Jian Lan’s gaze toward Lang Jiuchuan grew ever more reverential.

Lang Jiuchuan set the Diamond Pagoda aside and instead lifted the small curtain on the carriage window to peer outside, then had Jian Lan tell her about the notable happenings at Huguo Temple over the years.

Jian Lan spoke at length. Though it was only the first day of the new year, many common folk would go to pray and make their wishes at the temple before the first day had even begun. Quite a few of the capital’s nobility also came early to offer the first stick of incense at an auspicious hour, all in hopes of securing a good omen for the new year. For this reason, they would reserve their meditation courtyards well in advance, and as soon as midnight passed, they would burn the first stick of incense at the appointed auspicious moment.

But that first stick of incense, more often than not, was claimed by the most exalted of the exalted — the very tip of the capital’s elite.

“Last year’s first stick of incense was offered by Princess Zhao’an,” Jian Lan said in a lowered voice. “They say the Princess had gone without child for many years and had specially petitioned the imperial household to make arrangements with Huguo Temple, so that she could secure the honor of that first incense offering and pray for the blessings of all the gods and buddhas to grant her a son.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s interest was piqued. “And did she have one?”

Jian Lan nodded. “She did. The good news came around the Dragon Boat Festival last year, I believe. She must be close to her time by now.”

“Then the temple is quite efficacious.”

“Indeed. After Princess Zhao’an’s news spread, she had a gilded statue of Guanyin cast and sent to Huguo Temple as an offering.”

Lang Jiuchuan thought to herself — no wonder Huguo Temple drew such abundant incense offerings. If the temple truly worked such miracles, who wouldn’t rush to come and pray?

She was gazing out at the passing scenery when she suddenly paused, her attention caught by a donkey cart that had pulled to the side of the road. A grand procession was sweeping past them, the attendants shouting and hollering, leaving the few people on the donkey cart too intimidated to make a sound.

Lang Jiuchuan rapped on the carriage wall as a signal to stop.

Jian Lan immediately called out to halt the carriage and asked, “Young Miss, is there something you need?”

Lang Jiuchuan made to step down from the carriage. Jian Lan quickly said, “Young Miss, the cold outside is harsh. If you have any instructions, just let this servant carry them out.”

“Never mind.” Lang Jiuchuan stepped down. Jian Lan hurried after her, snatching up the heavy cloak that had been set to one side, then rushed out and draped it around her shoulders.

In the carriage ahead, Cui Shi had heard the report from one of the household guards and her carriage had also come to a stop. She frowned and looked out through the carriage window.

She watched as Lang Jiuchuan walked up to a donkey cart. Seated on the cart was a pair of men who appeared to be father and son, with a thin and frail old woman at their side.

When the middle-aged man spotted Lang Jiuchuan, he was visibly startled for a moment, and then his face flooded with joyful surprise. He dropped to his knees before her and said something. The old woman also trembled as she began to kneel.

Lang Jiuchuan steadied the old woman and frowned. “The cold is bitter and snow is coming at any moment. This is no place for a conversation. I am also headed to Huguo Temple — come find me there once you’ve arrived.”

She glanced at their donkey cart, then said, “Never mind that — just follow along behind our party.”

“Many thanks, Young Miss.” Zhuang Quanhai clasped his hands together in a bow, helped the old woman up into the cart, and said, “Old Lady, have no fear. Meeting this benefactress here, Brother Ding will surely be protected from harm.”

And indeed — the person Lang Jiuchuan had encountered was none other than Zhuang Quanhai, the former proprietor of her shop, along with his son. The old woman was the mother of Ding Mangu, a man she had met only briefly once before.

She had not misread that man’s countenance then. He had truly been thrown into prison, just as she had foreseen. Zhuang Quanhai was accompanying his elderly mother to Huguo Temple to burn incense and pray for divine protection.

The procession continued on its way. Lang Jiuchuan lightly tapped her knee with her fingertips, eyes half closed. From the moment she had encountered Zhuang Quanhai’s party, a subtle unease had begun to settle over her.

She opened her eyes and asked Jian Lan, “Do you have any copper coins on you?”

Jian Lan didn’t understand the reason, but she nodded and tipped a few copper coins out of her purse.

Lang Jiuchuan took three of them, set her paper and brush to one side, and drew a slow, steadying breath. She pressed the coins together between her palms, let her mind settle, and tossed them.

“I’ll call out the characters — you write them down.”

Jian Lan took up the brush and wrote down what she heard. As she saw the characters taking shape, her expression shifted slightly — these were the notations of a hexagram reading.

Lang Jiuchuan cast the coins with swift, practiced movements. By the time all six lines required for the hexagram had been thrown, the reading was complete. Her complexion was not pleasant to look upon. She asked Jian Lan to light a spirit-calming incense stick, then took the notations Jian Lan had written and began her analysis.

An incense stick’s worth of time passed. She studied the resulting hexagram, her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

The official-ghost line was in motion and had encountered both the White Tiger and the Coiling Snake — this signified an encounter between dark malevolence and fierce, violent forces. Within the hexagram, fire sat above and water below; water and fire failed to harmonize with each other. All six lines were yin. The hexagram’s color was deep black streaked with red like dried blood, indicating that extreme yin was devouring yang, that yin energy was holding long dominion, and that the order of the mortal world was descending into chaos.

Lang Jiuchuan finished interpreting the hexagram. A dull, suffocating ache pressed against her chest. With trembling hands she retrieved her porcelain medicine vial, tapped out a few pills, and said within her spirit domain, “Jiangche — a great demonic evil is about to emerge. Kill it, and it will surely be a deed of immense merit!”