Lang Jiuchuan looked the group of elegantly dressed young women over with an unhurried, unobtrusive gaze.

Their garments were richly made — not flashy, but of exceptionally precious fabric. Jeweled hairpins did not crowd their heads, yet even the smallest pearl flower had been selected with careful taste, pairing beautifully and luxuriously with the rest. Their bearing was proud and haughty. These were the family members of a favored consort.

The young woman at the front appeared to be no older than fifteen or sixteen. She was not particularly tall, but the disdainful expression on her face was cut from exactly the same cloth as the old Qi Xinyu.

However…

“She is about to die,” Lang Jiuchuan murmured within her spirit domain.

Jiangche heard this, and that loose-mouthed tongue of hers was at it again — it couldn’t hold itself together and leaped forward in alarm. “Don’t you dare open your mouth,” it warned. “That’s the Zhongyong Marquis household. If those crow’s-mouth words of yours come true again, and they have a Noble Consort blowing winds in the Emperor’s ear until it becomes a full-blown hurricane, then the Marquis Kaiping estate can forget about the title succession — they’ll be lucky to keep any title at all. You’d be the ruin of the entire Lang Family. But… is she really going to die?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked at Fourth Miss Qi Minjun of the Qi household, who was enveloped in an aura of deathly energy. “Yes. That death energy has nearly engulfed her entirely.”

“Are you going to try to help her?”

“She has come into this sacred ground of Huguo Temple, yet even this cannot lighten her death energy by even a fraction. It is plain that her fate has already been fixed in Panguan Cui’s register of life and death.” Lang Jiuchuan lowered her eyes. “The friend of my enemy is my enemy. Why should I entangle myself in the karmic cause and effect of her life and death?”

Jiangche snorted coldly. “Don’t tell me you’re looking to vent on Cui Shi’s behalf over this business of the stolen courtyard?”

“A single courtyard — it isn’t worth spending my merit on,” Lang Jiuchuan said, studying Qi Minjun and tapping her chin thoughtfully. “However, there is something peculiar about her physiognomy. She is born to nobility, yet there is a cold and lonely aspect to her features. As it is said: isolated yin gives rise to nothing. Could it be that all four pillars of her birth chart form an all-yin configuration?”

Qi Minjun and her close companions walked over. She frowned and looked at the welcoming monk. “It’s the first day of the new year, with pilgrims coming and going — why are you all standing here blocking the way?”

The welcoming monk smiled apologetically. “We were just leaving, we were just leaving.”

Qi Minjun’s gaze fell on Cui Shi, who was dressed in the muted, plain colors of mourning. “Madam Lang,” she said, “I am truly sorry about this year. I have taken up the Quiet Meditation Courtyard. Ordinarily I wouldn’t wish to put you out — but I cannot help it. My closest confidante took suddenly and gravely ill and died. I feel the deepest grief for her sake. She was only a few months away from becoming a bride, and yet she died so abruptly. How pitiful. She is gone, and naturally I have come to light a long-burning lamp for her, to burn some clear incense, and pray that her journey on the road to the underworld goes smoothly and that she is not harassed by minor ghosts along the way. After all, when she was alive, wasn’t she blocked in her path by some short-lived wretch, and lost her life because of it?”

“That short-lived wretch she’s talking about is you, isn’t it?” Jiangche yowled. “I take back what I said just now about you saving her — forget it, let her die.”

Lang Jiuchuan said, “This young lady of Wu Jing certainly has a way with words — cursing someone out in such a roundabout fashion, and not a single crude character to be found.”

Cui Shi’s expression was thunderously dark. She understood perfectly well who Qi Minjun’s confidante was, and she was well acquainted with the history between that Qi Xinyu and Lang Jiuchuan. She even knew that the Qi Family had been spreading rumors outside, calling Lang Jiuchuan a cursed star. To put it bluntly — however Qi Xinyu had died, the Qi Family themselves knew better than anyone what had really happened. She had brought it upon herself through her own actions. And they were trying to pin the blame on Lang Jiuchuan?

How absurd.

Qi Minjun was not finished venting her grievances. She spotted Lang Jiuchuan standing behind Cui Shi, stepped closer, and looked down at her with her chin slightly raised. “So you are the ninth daughter of the Marquis Kaiping estate — the one raised out on that country estate? Looking at you now, you truly are as frail and sickly as they say — so delicate and fragile, just the sort to make people want to fuss over you. My sisters, I would say someone like her ought to be kept indoors. Why is she even out here in the cold wind? If anyone were to accidentally bump into her and something unfortunate were to happen, who would be held responsible?”

“Quite right — if your health is poor, don’t come wandering about outside,” one of the girls beside her sniffed dismissively, casting a single contemptuous glance at Lang Jiuchuan’s attire before curling her lip. “Truly rustic.”

Cui Shi’s face went a livid, iron shade. She turned her gaze on the girl who had spoken. “And which household’s young miss are you? Truly without upbringing, and without the slightest sense of what is and is not appropriate.”

“You—!”

“In the Cui Clan, a girl who speaks so carelessly and indiscriminately would be dealt with according to the clan rules, then made to go back and thoroughly relearn the four virtues: conduct, speech, appearance, and industry.”

By chance, a few passersby happened to round the path at that moment. Witnessing the scene, they couldn’t help pausing to observe with curiosity. The young girl’s face went from red to white. She looked instinctively toward Qi Minjun, her eyes full of wordless pleading.

Facing her was the mistress of a marquis’s estate, one born of a truly distinguished family — the Qinghe Cui Clan. Being told outright in public that she lacked proper upbringing was as good as branding her. What household of good standing would dare take her as a primary wife after this?

Qi Minjun shot her a furious look. What a useless creature. She was just about to speak when Lang Jiuchuan turned to the welcoming monk. “In this bitter cold, are you not going to show us the way? We are still waiting to go light a lamp for our late father.”

Late father.

Ah yes — this second Madam Lang was a widow. Her husband had once been a renowned general who had defended the nation. He had died in battle for his country — a true hero.

If a man who had risked his life fighting for the Great Dang Empire and died on the battlefield in its service was rewarded with his wife and daughter being subjected to such humiliation — how chilling would that be for all the soldiers who were out there at that very moment guarding the borders?

The onlookers turned their eyes on the young women and frowned. Never mind that Cui Shi was the widow of a hero — she was also their elder. To shame and humiliate her this way — was this not an utter lack of upbringing?

Qi Minjun felt the weight of those changed gazes and her expression flickered several times. She called out loudly, “Then we shall not disturb Madam any further.”

She hurried away with her companions in the other direction. Once they had turned a corner and were out of sight, she slapped the girl who had added her voice to the mockery across the face with a sharp crack. “Useless — you had to put your mouth in where it wasn’t asked for and draw all that attention to us.”

The girl pressed a hand to her stinging cheek, her eyes brimming with tears, not daring to let a single sob escape.

“All right, Minjun, don’t be angry. Look at that Lang number nine — frail as a wilting flower, barely any meat on her face. She’s got the look of someone who won’t live long. She isn’t worth getting upset over.”

“Exactly, exactly. Look at how she dressed — still wearing her hair in a long braid like a child. Truly rustic enough. That girl grew up in the countryside and it shows — she simply has no place in polite society among noblewomen. Don’t let it bother you.” With that, much of Qi Minjun’s anger dissipated. She let out a loud, contemptuous snort, shook out her sleeves, and swept away.

As for Lang Jiuchuan’s party — they had gone only a little further when another welcoming monk appeared to guide them, and led the whole party to a different self-contained meditation courtyard — more secluded and even larger than the Quiet Meditation Courtyard.

Cui Shi was puzzled.

Then she looked up and saw who was standing across the way in the courtyard opposite: it was the mistress of the Pei Family — none other than the mother of Pei Yuchang, who had married into the Gong Family. And she happened also to be the sworn sister of Cui Shi’s own mother. That was the reason she and Yuchang had been so close since childhood.

Cui Shi was both surprised and delighted. She crossed the courtyard quickly and bowed. “Auntie — why are you here as well?”

The Pei Madam drew her upright, her gaze full of tender affection. “You heartless creature — you won’t come to see me at home, so I have no choice but to come to Huguo Temple to find you.”

Lang Jiuchuan, meanwhile, spotted Gong Qi on the other side of the Pei Madam, pulling faces and beckoning at her. Of all the places in the world — here too!

“This is the little ninth daughter, I take it? Come here and let me have a look at you.” The Pei Madam beckoned to her.

Lang Jiuchuan stepped forward and gave a bow. “Wishing the Elder Madam health and peace in the new year.”

The Pei Madam gave a warm reply and helped her up, studying her carefully for a long moment. Then she sighed and said softly, “Looking at her, it is just like looking at her father.”

Cui Shi’s entire body went rigid.