A dense crowd of female relatives, though all dressed in plain mourning clothes, wore fabrics that were precious and exquisitely made, their accessories carefully coordinated — the kind of refinement only noble households could cultivate.

Had the group not arrived with such a ferocious air, Lang Jiuchuan might even have remarked that they were every bit as distinguished as their noble birth suggested.

As it was, their fine attire combined with their overbearing manner gave the whole group a rather imperious, bullying quality.

Jian Lan quietly stepped in front of Lang Jiuchuan, heart hammering. Could it be that the Qi family had discovered the young miss had been absent in the middle of the night, and was now suspecting she had something to do with the death of the Fourth Miss Qi?

Lang Jiuchuan noticed Jian Lan’s movement, and a flicker of warmth crossed her eyes. She stepped forward and said, “Temples are not places for loud commotion, lest you startle the divine spirits. The master should have informed the honored guests of this.”

The words were addressed to the Shengren who had accompanied the Qi family party, yet the barb was plainly aimed at the noble guests themselves.

She also recognized this Shengren — he was the very monk she had encountered in the Main Hall the night before. The thought crossed her mind that her presence at the Main Hall at the hour of zi had not gone unnoticed.

What a nuisance.

The Shengren pressed his palms together and recited a Buddhist salutation: “The young female benefactor speaks correctly. This poor monk was negligent.”

The Qi family party’s expressions twisted between embarrassment and fury.

“So you are the jinx, the Ninth Miss of the Lang Family. Do not stand there throwing veiled insults. I have a question for you — aside from going to the Main Hall, where else did you go when you left your courtyard in the middle of the night?” A woman with an oval face demanded, her eyes red-rimmed.

“My, are we interrogating criminals now? When did Huguo Temple become a place like the Tingwei’s court or the Ministry of Justice? Have the ladies and young misses put aside their embroidery and meditation to take up whips and play at being prison wardens?” Shen Furen stepped forward and positioned herself right beside Lang Jiuchuan, regarding the group across from them with open displeasure.

Cui Shi stood on Lang Jiuchuan’s other side. Already cold-natured by temperament, her face was utterly expressionless, her voice ice-cold: “Would someone kindly inform us what wrong our Ninth Miss has committed to have offended you all?”

The sight of Shen Furen gave everyone a start. Word had spread that Shen Qinghe had brought his family to Huguo Temple, and that Shen Furen had come over to Cui Shi’s side — it turned out to be true. Now that she had opened her mouth, it was plainly in defense of Lang Jiuchuan. Was she here for Lang Jiuchuan’s sake?

What exactly is their relationship?

By the time Shen Peng emerged from his meditation room, the assembled crowd wore peculiar expressions — it rather felt as if they had stumbled into the middle of a courtship viewing.

After all, Shen Peng had yet to be betrothed, and Lang Jiuchuan was still an unmarried young woman.

And yet — was the Lang Family not in mourning? Was it really appropriate to be looking into a match at a time like this?

Eyes moved back and forth between Shen Peng and Lang Jiuchuan. Lang Jiuchuan did not seem to notice anything, but Shen Peng’s ear tips had gone slightly warm. Surely there’s been a misunderstanding?

He genuinely admired Lang Jiuchuan — that much was true. But a woman like her was not the sort a rough and ordinary man like himself could handle. He was simply not worthy.

Shen Peng moved to one side and stood there quietly, composed and without pretense.

“Is Shen Furen here as well? And is this your son? What a fine, distinguished-looking young man…”

Shen Furen looked at the well-dressed matron beside the oval-faced woman and said, “Yao Furen, there is no need for your veiled fishing. It is not what you are imagining. What family would discuss a match while the other party is still in mourning? That would be burdening the girl with the name of being unfilial. Ah-Jiu is such a wonderful girl — I would never let her be talked about that way. Besides, my worthless boy is not worthy of her. She is lovely and she suits me perfectly, and I am genuinely fond of her as a daughter. As for why we came to the temple — naturally, she is here to pray for the soul of her late father, and we simply came to keep her company.”

As she spoke, she draped an arm around Lang Jiuchuan’s shoulder to demonstrate their closeness.

Cui Shi’s feelings were complicated.

Yao Furen, having been sharply rebuffed, felt rather awkward. What had possessed her to speak up? Shen Furen had a gentle and gracious appearance, but her nature was not one to be trifled with — and the woman had the standing to back up her directness.

“Go ahead then. That tone of yours — is this an interrogation?” Shen Furen swept a glance over the group opposite them, her bearing even more haughty than theirs.

The oval-faced woman was the Second Madam of the Qi Family, the aunt of the Fourth Miss Qi. She spoke with an expression of grief: “Shen Furen, our family’s Fourth Miss came to this temple with the utmost sincerity, to pray for our family and offer prayers for a departed friend. Yet she met a cruel end and died in the back mountain. What a pity — a girl in the flower of her youth, killed simply for coming here in devout worship.”

“I heard about this as well. Is that not why my husband was summoned to investigate the case? Huguo Temple has even been placed under lockdown because of it. But now you come here to interrogate a young girl — surely you are not suggesting she had something to do with the Fourth Miss Qi’s death?” Shen Furen stepped aside slightly and continued: “At Consort Cheng Wang’s chrysanthemum banquet last year, I noticed that the Fourth Miss Qi was tall — if anything she seemed sturdier than little Jiu.”

Everyone turned to look at Lang Jiuchuan again. She was not short, but because she was slender, her face carried little flesh, and her complexion lacked the healthy flush of most girls. She did look rather frail.

With a constitution like that, if it truly came to a fight with the Fourth Miss Qi, she would have lost, surely?

They had all understood the implication in Shen Furen’s words: Lang Jiuchuan, slight and delicate as she was, could not have killed the Fourth Miss Qi.

The Second Madam of the Qi Family seethed inwardly and said, “That was never my meaning. I only heard that there was a small conflict between my niece and Miss Lang Jiu yesterday, and that someone spotted her burning incense at the Main Hall at the hour of zi last night, so I simply wanted to come and ask.”

“The conflict was with me, not with my daughter,” Cui Shi said coldly, and then, conscious of the eyes on her, added: “And what is more, I do not even consider it a conflict. It was nothing more than the meditation courtyard our Lang Family had reserved three months in advance being reassigned to the Fourth Miss Qi without any notice given to us. A courtyard — I did not stoop to quarrel over it with a spoiled young girl. I only asked the Shengren in charge of guest arrangements to reassign us a better one. And even when the Fourth Miss Qi spoke unpleasantly, we did not raise our voices in return. A certain young lady ought to know that much — after all, she was there at the time, eagerly adding her own outrageous remarks.”

Cui Shi’s gaze moved to a young girl standing among the crowd who looked utterly lost and hollow — the very one who, on that day, had called Lang Jiuchuan inauspicious to curry favor with the Fourth Miss Qi. She was Yao Furen’s concubine-born daughter, Yao Yixin.

Yao Furen’s expression shifted sharply. She shot a glare at Yao Yixin. She was involved in this too.

Yao Yixin swayed on her feet. Her small face had gone bloodless, but both her cheeks bore an abnormal flush. Her eyes darted with barely-contained panic. She looked at the people before her, then at Lang Jiuchuan — standing perfectly straight, draped in her wide-sleeved cloak, expression cool and indifferent — and then, gripped by terror, cried out: “It was her! She did it! She is a jinx! Everyone who crosses her ends up dead — it was the same with Qi Xinyu, and now it is the same with Qi Minjun. Maybe the rumors are true — they all died because they provoked her and she cursed them. Lang Jiu is a curse star — ahh!”

Crack.

Yao Furen struck her across the face: “Insolent fool! What nonsense are you spouting?”

Yao Yixin’s vision went dark. She let out a sharp cry and crumpled limply to the ground.

“Take her back.” Yao Furen felt every shred of dignity drain away. Had it not been for the fact that this girl was close with the Fourth Miss Qi and could provide access to the Noble Consort’s maternal family, she would not have given her so much as a glance.

Now, she had made a terrible enemy.

Yao Furen’s head throbbed. She turned to Shen Furen, but before she could even open her mouth, the other woman gave a cold laugh: “Yao Furen’s raising is truly something to behold — what a sharp-tongued daughter.”

Yao Furen forced a smile: “The child has been frightened half out of her wits. She’s running a fever and isn’t herself.”

Indeed, she had felt the burning heat radiating from Yao Yixin’s face just now.

Shen Furen turned to look at the Second Madam of the Qi Family, her voice edged with frost: “And does the Second Madam feel the same way?”