This was Lang Jiuchuan’s first time setting foot in Cui Shi’s Xizhao Pavilion. Following the burial of the old Marquis of the Lang family, the white mourning drapery that had adorned the manor during the funeral was taken down and replaced with plain, subdued decorations — and her courtyard was no exception.

Because she lived as a widow, Xizhao Pavilion stood far from the main courtyard, situated on the western side of the Marquis’s manor. Though its location was remote, the courtyard itself was spaciously laid out and tranquilly serene. It was said to also contain a small training ground — that had once been the domain of the second branch’s male head of household, Lang Zhenghan.

Xizhao Pavilion had no excess of flowers or ornamental plants, but two tall tallow trees had been planted there. Jian Lan had mentioned that these two tallow trees were especially beautiful in autumn — no less magnificent than maples or ginkgos — and moreover, they had been personally planted by the Second Master in his youth. In autumn, Cui Shi most enjoyed sitting beneath them to sip tea and appreciate the season.

Though the pavilion had no other flowering plants, Cui Shi loved orchids — one only needed to look at the names given to her maids to know this — and so a warm greenhouse had been set aside in the courtyard specifically to tend to the various orchids she cherished. For the many years of her widowhood, aside from prayer and Buddhist devotion, this was Cui Shi’s sole pleasure and pastime.

Now winter had arrived. In just a few more days it would enter the twelfth lunar month. The two tallow trees of Xizhao Pavilion had long since been weighed down by accumulated snow, their branches and leaves pressed low, making the colors within the courtyard all the more sparse and wan.

The courtyard was deep and still.

Perhaps owing to the silence of its mistress, this Xizhao Pavilion — much like the courtyard belonging to Lang Jiuchuan — held no great surge of vitality.

A scent of medicine drifted into Lang Jiuchuan’s nostrils, wafting out from the small kitchen in the northwest corner. From the direction of the main hall, the faint sound of coughing could be heard.

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her gaze and followed Jian Lan toward the main hall. At the entrance, a maidservant of about twelve or thirteen spotted them and hurried inside to announce their arrival, then lifted the curtain for them.

Stepping into the main hall, warmth washed over her. Lang Jiuchuan raised her eyes. Positioned against the south-facing window sat a daybed, upon which Cui Shi reclined. She had already changed out of the white mourning garments into a plain indigo-colored jacket, paired below with a pleated skirt patterned with an unbroken geometric border design. Her low-set hair bun was held in place by nothing more than a single white jade hairpin, with no other adornment.

She had apparently just finished coughing — a thin, unhealthy flush colored her cheeks, while her lips were strikingly pale.

A maidservant wearing the same dark-green quilted jacket and skirt as Jian Lan passed by Lang Jiuchuan carrying a spittoon. She paused, dipped into a curtsy, and called out: “Ninth Young Miss.”

This was Mo Lan — one of Cui Shi’s four principal maids.

Cui Shi handed the handkerchief she had used to wipe her mouth to her attendant Cheng Nanny, then picked up a fresh silk handkerchief and gripped it in her hand. Seeing Lang Jiuchuan standing there stiffly, she frowned and said: “Have you even forgotten how to bow a greeting?”

Lang Jiuchuan gave a slight incline of her head. “I trust Madam is well.”

Madam.

Cui Shi looked at her, the hand clutching the silk handkerchief tightening.

Cheng Nanny sighed and said: “Ninth Young Miss, even if you won’t call her Mother, at least address her as such.”

Lang Jiuchuan let out a soft scoff. “As I recall, on the day I returned to the manor, Madam said that I am not her beloved daughter. How could I presume to address her as Mother?”

The expressions of everyone present shifted at once.

Jiangche drifted out from her spiritual platform, taking on the form of a small kitten no larger than a suckling cat, and perched on her shoulder. He studied Cui Shi, then scrutinized Lang Jiuchuan’s face and said: “That doesn’t seem right — their facial features actually do look quite mother-and-daughter alike. Why wouldn’t she acknowledge you? Could it be she spotted at a glance that you’re an imposter?”

“Silence!” Lang Jiuchuan snapped at him irritably, then turned to Cui Shi: “What matter did Madam summon me here to discuss?”

Cui Shi had harbored a thin thread of anger, but under the gentle patting of Cheng Nanny’s hand on her back, she forcibly swallowed it and said: “I shall say nothing of how you lived at the estate before. Now that you have returned to the Marquis’s manor, your coming-of-age ceremony will be next year — you ought to start learning proper etiquette and conduct, lest you make a fool of yourself when you marry into another household and shame the Lang family name for its lack of upbringing.”

Lang Jiuchuan was startled. What did that mean?

“Ah — if you’re to marry, what brave soul would be bold enough to take you, you fierce she-devil…” Jiangche’s reckless voice was automatically silenced under Lang Jiuchuan’s sideways glare of lethal contempt.

Lang Jiuchuan did nothing to him, but shot back: “If I were to marry, wouldn’t you have to marry with me?”

Jiangche was suddenly struck with alarm.

That was right — they were now joined body and soul, and that physical body just happened to be female. If she truly married, there would be a wedding night, and in that case, wouldn’t he be the one on the bottom?

Absolutely not. He was the mighty White Tiger King — powerful and domineering — he ought to be the one on top.

Lang Jiuchuan had no idea about Jiangche’s beastly train of thought, and said to Cui Shi: “There is no need for you to concern yourself. A body like mine can neither be carried nor supported — it has the look of a short life. I may not even be able to bear children. There is no point going to another family only to be looked down upon.”

Marriage — what was even the point of marriage? No interest.

“You—!” The words sent Cui Shi into a fit of violent coughing.

Cheng Nanny hurried to rub her back, and said to Lang Jiuchuan: “Ninth Young Miss, please do not speak such inauspicious words. With proper care the body will recover. Madam has already sent someone to invite the renowned physician Fang Cong to examine you.”

Cui Shi pressed her lips together and said nothing.

Lang Jiuchuan was somewhat taken aback. She looked at Cui Shi and said: “I have said before that this body cannot be saved by the likes of you…”

“Must you always oppose me like this?” Cui Shi could bear it no longer and struck the small kang table beside her with a heavy slap. “In your heart, do you hate me so much that you’ve stopped caring even about your own body?” she demanded furiously.

Lang Jiuchuan stared at her steadily until the discomfiture showed on Cui Shi’s face, then said: “You have thought too much into it. I do not hate you.”

After all, she was not the original soul — and therefore did not feel things quite so personally.

“You’re lying,” Jiangche snorted. “You clearly do harbor resentment.”

Lang Jiuchuan countered without batting an eye: “That’s not me — it’s the residual consciousness of the original soul.”

Jiangche gave a light snort. A stubborn duck denying what it is.

Lang Jiuchuan looked back at Cui Shi and continued: “I do not hate you. After all these years, I long ago grew accustomed to living as a solitary girl who might as well not exist — I never saw you, never received your love and care. What one has never had, one does not come to miss, and there is nothing to hate. Moreover, I have lived quite well at the estate all these years. You brought me back to act the part of a dutiful child for the mourning rites. Now that the funeral is done, I shall return to the estate tomorrow. In this manor, I am out of place.”

Cui Shi’s eyelid twitched.

Cheng Nanny stepped forward urgently. “Young Miss, what is past is past, but now that you have returned — what reason could there be to return to the estate? You are the only young mistress of our second branch.”

Young mistress. Hearing these words, Lang Jiuchuan felt something inexplicably complicated stir in her heart.

It seemed a little too late.

“Mutual dislike is a tiresome thing,” Lang Jiuchuan said indifferently.

Cui Shi said coldly: “As I thought, you’ve grown a bone of defiance, just like your father—”

Her fingertip trembled. She suddenly snapped her mouth shut, her expression contorting in pain. She covered her chest and gasped in great, labored breaths.

Cheng Nanny saw this and went pale with shock. “Madam — is your cardiac pain acting up? Jian Lan, quickly fetch a Lifesaving Pellet! Is there anyone outside? Hurry and call for the manor physician!”

Lang Jiuchuan’s brow furrowed.

Jiangche, however, wore the expression of someone watching a show unfold. “If she dies, it would be because she was provoked to death by you, her unfilial daughter, wouldn’t it?”