On the second day of the second month — the day the dragon raises its head — Zhuang Quanhai and his family formally bid farewell to Lang Jiuchuan and departed the capital to return home. Lang Jiuchuan received all the keys to the shop and the adjoining residence, walked through the small dwelling, and took in the full layout of the courtyard. She now had a clear picture in her mind.

She handed the keys to Fuqi for safekeeping and said: “I’ll sketch out a design, and when the time comes, have the residence refurbished in broad strokes. I’ll move in once I’ve set everything up properly myself. Keep watch over it for now.”

The space she had in mind — a shop at the front and living quarters at the rear — would house both the living and the dead. It needed to be carefully arranged, so that the living and the spirits could coexist without disturbing one another, and so that it could draw upon the energy of Heaven and Earth.

“Over the next couple of days I’ll be home working on a paper effigy for you. I won’t be coming by for the time being. If something comes up, come find me at the residence, or send a small ghost over.” Lang Jiuchuan added this instruction.

Fuqi acknowledged everything she said.

Only then did Lang Jiuchuan take Jian Lan back to the Marquis’s residence. She had been away for several days, and returning now — perhaps because she was drawing closer to the truth of her origins across two lifetimes — she felt, strangely, something like the timid hesitation of someone approaching home after a long absence.

And so she stood outside Cui Shi’s courtyard without moving a single step forward, looking through the gate at the two dark-leafed tallow trees inside. The winter snow was slowly thawing, and the branches were still bare. These trees, she had heard, were ones that Lang Zhengfan had planted in his youth.

This courtyard had been where he and Cui Shi had lived from the time of their marriage.

Lang Jiuchuan stood there for a long while without moving. Jian Lan called out softly: “Young Miss?”

“Let’s go back and freshen up.” Lang Jiuchuan returned to her own courtyard.

Jian Lan followed quickly, thought for a moment, then asked: “Young Miss — are you planning to move out?”

Lang Jiuchuan turned to look at her.

Jian Lan said: “Your servant noticed that you intend to personally arrange the residence behind Wanshi Shop. And the study in your courtyard here — the one you arranged yourself — is the place you spend the most time.”

Places she had personally arranged would naturally be most conducive to her — which was why she spent the most time in them. If Lang Jiuchuan had not been planning to move to Wanshi Shop, why would she take such pains with it?

Lang Jiuchuan smiled slightly: “You’re quite perceptive. With that gloomy expression on your face — are you reluctant to see me go?”

Jian Lan said: “You’ve been back at the residence less than half a year, and already you’re leaving. This…”

Lang Jiuchuan’s smile faded. She said: “Jian Lan, ties of family and affection — they too have their depths and their shallows. I am someone whose fortunate bonds in this regard are likely quite thin. Cultivators speak of the five impairments and three deficiencies — one is bound to bear some of them. I am no exception. In this life, it seems I am destined to have shallow bonds with my parents.”

Jian Lan felt a pang of sorrow in her heart.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Perhaps moving out and living apart will actually be better for all of us.” Lang Jiuchuan glanced back at Qichi Pavilion and said quietly.

Jian Lan let out a quiet sigh.

Word that Lang Jiuchuan had stood outside Qichi Pavilion for a long while was also reported to Cui Shi by a maidservant.

Cui Shi’s brows furrowed together. What had come over her now?

Lang Jiuchuan prepared herself an herbal bath, had the medicinal ingredients steeped and brought to a boil, then settled into the bathing tub to think over Lang Zhengfan’s affairs.

As for the Marquis Zhenbei — the Lang Family had never harbored the slightest suspicion toward him. He even held annual ritual ceremonies in Lang Zhengfan’s honor, going through all the outward motions, which had earned him the Lang Family’s full trust. Because of this, the two families had maintained a relatively close association.

If she were to say that Xie Zhenming was the one who had killed Lang Zhengfan — would they believe her?

It would be difficult. Because there was no proof.

The man had been dead for many years, his remains long since reduced to nothing but bones. And even if there had once been poison, nothing could be detected from bones after so long. Even if it could, was she supposed to dig up his grave to find evidence and prove it to the Lang Family?

That would be entirely unnecessary — going to absurd lengths for no purpose.

Did she even need evidence?

She did not.

The spirit witch had already given her the proof. Xie Zhenming was the enemy who had killed her father. Whether the Lang Family believed her or not was of no importance. This body was Lang Zhengfan’s daughter. His grievance and his enmity — it was for her, his descendant, to avenge.

Lang Jiuchuan submerged her head beneath the water. Her mind became crystalline and clear. How should this vengeance be exacted? Just as with Sheng Huai’an — there was nothing more agonizing than watching everything one possessed collapse and slip away piece by piece.

And whatever Lang Zhengfan had endured at the moment of his death — Xie Zhenming should suffer it in turn.

Glug, glug.

Bubbles drifted up from the bottom of the water.

……

Lang Jiuchuan went to Cui Shi’s courtyard. Cui Shi looked at her and asked awkwardly, as if making herself say it: “Why have you grown thinner? While you were out, did you…”

Her words broke off and went no further — a certain awkwardness settling between them, born from the sense that they were not close enough for her to say just anything.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at her steadily, her heart a tangle of feelings she could not quite name. Cui Shi had no affection for this body, did not recognize her as her own — all because she believed the original inhabitant of this body was not the child she had borne. She had become erratic, consumed by her own obsession, unwilling to believe that she had been blinding herself with her own assumptions.

If what she believed was all true — then could it be that her own former self, in her previous life, really had been the child who was switched away?

Cui Shi felt uneasy beneath her steady gaze: “What are you staring at me for?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked away. It was often said that a mother and daughter share a heart — but did Cui Shi truly have that?

Seeing her silence, Cui Shi felt even more unsettled. She thought for a moment, then tried to soften her tone and asked: “Has something happened?”

“Nothing. I’ll go pay my respects to Grandmother.” Lang Jiuchuan rose, performed a bow, and left.

Cui Shi’s brows drew together in deep furrows. She called for Mo Lan and told her to go fetch Jian Lan for questioning.

Jian Lan weighed her words carefully and ultimately still told her — about the residence on Xunxiang Lane, and her own suspicions.

Lang Jiuchuan was likely thinking of moving out of the Marquis’s residence.

Cui Shi sat on the daybed for a long while in silence, gazing blankly at the dark-leafed tallow tree outside the south window.

When Lang Jiuchuan went to pay her respects to the Old Madam, the eldest paternal uncle of the Lang Family was also there keeping her company. Seeing Lang Jiuchuan arrive, he gave a brief nod of acknowledgment.

She went through the usual motions — feeling the Old Madam’s pulse, keeping her entertained with pleasant company — and stayed until the Old Madam grew weary. Then she withdrew together with the eldest uncle. Walking alongside him, she listened as he spoke of the aftermath of the Lu Family affair.

“Lu Zhangxue was stripped of his post and made a fuss about divorcing his wife — but it didn’t go through. They separated by mutual agreement instead. The Lu Madam has moved to a separate residence. After all, she has a son studying with the Xuan Clan to back her up.” The eldest uncle’s voice was flat and cool: “But that false virtuous front she put on — it’s been torn away. Given how much of a scene was made, everyone can read what’s in their faces even if no one says it aloud. She doesn’t dare show herself in public anymore…”

“Uncle,” Lang Jiuchuan said, “when my father died — what soldiers and personal guards were at his side?”

The eldest uncle was caught off guard. His stream of talk cut off abruptly. He stopped walking and looked at her with a strange expression. What had prompted the child to bring up her father’s death all of a sudden?

The two of them faced each other. Those phoenix eyes of hers truly resembled her second uncle’s — dark and bright. Hers were even more translucent and clear, the kind of eyes that, when they looked at you, seemed capable of seeing through all your secrets.

And at this moment, those eyes held a great many things within them. And — was that a flame burning there?

The eldest uncle swallowed, pressed a hand to his chest trying to calm the apprehension rising in his heart, and carefully asked: “You’re asking about this — is it good news or bad news?”

He wanted some advance warning. Otherwise, if she opened that illuminated mouth of hers and it turned out to be bad news, he feared his heart blood would be startled away bit by bit, and less of it would be left each time.

Lang Jiuchuan: “……”