Lang Zhengping now understood why Lang Jiuchuan had never openly named the one responsible for her father’s death — because once you knew the person, it truly became impossible to carry on as though nothing had happened.

And this was only the son of the enemy he was facing — and still he had barely been able to suppress the fury surging within him, the urge to throw all caution aside and strike the man down on the spot to avenge his murdered younger brother. What then, when the day came to face the true enemy?

Would he still be able to control himself?

Today Lang Zhengping had used the excuse of a stomach ailment to avoid a prolonged meeting with the Zhenbei Marquis estate’s heir, Xie Zejing. He was afraid that if it dragged on, the performance would slip and he would give himself away — and that would ruin his great-niece’s plans.

He had been desperately waiting for Lang Jiuchuan to return, and the moment he saw her, he could not hold it together. He went straight to her and said, “You’ve finally come back. If you had stayed away any longer, I was going to come out of the estate to find you myself.”

Lang Jiuchuan had been brought directly to him upon her return to the estate, and knowing he must have given advance instructions for that, she couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of his agitated state. “I should have kept it all locked inside and said nothing until I’d already brought the person down.”

As for the information on the other enemies — she had her great sucker of a shopkeeper Piao. Burn enough fine incense, and sooner or later she could feed him full enough to provide information and do her bidding.

Great sucker Piao: Had he no face left at all!

Lang Zhengping said somewhat sheepishly, “It’s your elder uncle who overestimated himself. I thought — once the one surnamed Xie returned, I could simply pretend to be sick. Oh, right — you know a little medicine. Come that time, mix up some medicine for me, so the act is more convincing.”

Lang Jiuchuan glanced at him sideways. Truly a ruthless man.

“It doesn’t need to go that far — no need to actually harm your own health.” Lang Jiuchuan said. “I’ll go meet this Xie Zejing myself.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Lang Jiuchuan raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you worried about giving yourself away just now?”

“That’s because you’re here now.” Lang Zhengping felt as though he had found a steadying cornerstone, and displayed not a shred of shame at the fact that he was leaning on his niece.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at him — the blisters forming at the corners of his mouth, the dark rings beneath his eyes, the way he had lost a whole size, the haggard appearance of someone who hadn’t slept properly in many days — and said, “You’ve been brooding over this and haven’t been sleeping well? I can see your liver-fire rising, your vital energy and blood depleted. If you keep depleting yourself like this, you won’t even need a prescription — you’ll have made yourself ill just by languishing.”

Lang Zhengping walked by her side, raised a hand to touch his face, and said, “If I didn’t know, that would be one thing. But knowing that your father’s death involved hidden circumstances, and still being able to eat heartily and sleep soundly — what kind of person would that make me? I only hate myself for being useless, unable to avenge him immediately!”

He gave a self-deprecating laugh.

A man of decades, facing his junior as though facing a peer — openly admitting his own helplessness and inadequacy. Only he would do such a thing.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “I told you — his vengeance is mine to take. You don’t need to lose sleep over it.”

“How do you plan to go about it? He holds military command, and is now forming a marriage alliance with a Vice Minister of the Ministry of War. With a relative in the Ministry of War, it will be like adding wings to a tiger on the battlefield — at minimum, the military provisions and logistics will have someone to smooth the way, with no more delays.” Lang Zhengping sighed. “Child, on a battlefield, when those things are in place, the soldiers will fight with their full strength. With capable leadership, battles can be won, military merits accumulated — and with military merits, he can continue to climb higher.”

What was a Marquis? One could still rise to become a Duke, or even be granted a title as a Princely Vassal of a different surname. As long as he remained irreplaceable, his power and influence would be boundless.

“And by the way, the Zhenbei Marquis also has a daughter who entered the palace and serves as Consort Qing. She even has an imperial son at her knee — the child is only three this year. The crown prince has not yet been designated, so it may not be impossible for him to compete.”

The more Lang Zhengping spoke, the more he felt that wretched Xie Zhenming had used his second brother as a stepping stone to reach the clouds — and now intended to climb all the way to heaven.

A man who had lost all conscience — did he deserve to go to heaven? He deserved to go to hell, to be burned in the fires of karmic retribution!

Lang Jiuchuan looked at him, his face full of bitter resentment, and said, “I’ve heard that the struggle for the crown is always a storm of blood. He may look surrounded by blooming flowers now — but that is equally likely to be oil poured over a blazing fire, gathering the hatred of all quarters. So there’s no need to feel so bitter. And besides — now that I know he carries this blood debt, do I seem like the sort who would simply let him keep climbing? In his dreams!”

Her voice carried a coldness like ice shards, and Lang Zhengping was startled. He turned to look at her, struck by the ferocity that had not yet faded from her face, momentarily dazed.

Preoccupied as he had been, he hadn’t looked at her carefully. Now, looking at her, he felt that she had changed considerably from before — colder, sharper, like a sword that could no longer conceal itself, finally unsheathed, its edge impossible to hide any longer.

This was second brother’s only daughter. If it weren’t for what his second brother’s wife had done in her madness — if he had been more attentive back then — would Lang Jiuchuan have grown up in a different way? Like an ordinary girl of the noble families, without having to become like this — an adult in all but years.

He supposed he would have no face to show his second brother when the time came to see him again.

Lang Jiuchuan, noticing he had gone quiet, looked over at him. She saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes and asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Lang Zhengping turned away and wiped his eyes. His voice carried guilt. “At your grandfather’s mourning rites, when you saw something wrong and tried to move your grandfather’s body, I scolded you and berated you for it. Your elder uncle was shallow and ignorant. I’m sorry.”

Lang Jiuchuan paused. It had been such a long time ago — she herself hadn’t even taken it to heart. She had more or less forgotten about it, most likely because she had never considered it particularly important, and didn’t much care — perhaps because she had never really thought of herself as a member of the Lang Family.

When you don’t care about a person, you naturally don’t care about their attitude toward you.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “It was simply human nature.”

The dead are to be revered above all. For him to remain impassive at the sight of someone moving his late father’s body — even if that person was his own niece — would have been the truly strange response.

Lang Zhengping looked at her magnanimity, and felt all the more that he was not a proper human being. He quickened his pace ahead, evidently not wanting his great-niece to see him looking pathetic.

In the front courtyard reception hall, Lang Zhengping’s abrupt performance of illness and his hurried retreat had left Cui Shi and Lang Caimeng to accompany Xie Zejing, discussing the arrangements for a memorial ceremony to be held for second uncle.

Upon hearing that Lang Zhengping was bringing Lang Jiuchuan along, everyone paused in surprise. Had he not said he had a stomach ailment?

Xie Zejing rose to his feet. Indeed, Lang Zhengping walked in — and following behind him, half-concealed by his frame, a young woman walked in as well.

Cui Shi was mildly surprised to see Lang Jiuchuan appear. She had thought there was little need for a girl to meet an unrelated young man like Xie Zejing — but the two families were old acquaintances and had a deep connection. With the elders all present, it was perfectly proper for her to be introduced to this elder cousin Xie and make each other’s acquaintance.

Lang Zhengping gave a cheerful laugh. “Have I come at the right moment? Ninth Young Lady has never attended a memorial ceremony before, so she wanted to know how the proceedings would go, lest she commit some impropriety on the day. She asked me to bring her along to listen. I couldn’t refuse her.”

Xie Zejing looked at Lang Zhengping’s smile and felt something vaguely off about it — not as warm or natural as it used to be. It was like a mask worn over his face, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, entirely unconvincing.

But he didn’t dwell on it. He simply assumed it was the discomfort of Lang Zhengping’s illness. And besides — the legendary Ninth Young Lady had already stepped into view.

The other party was looking directly at him. Xie Zejing took in her figure and features, and was mildly startled. When his eyes met hers, he felt without warning a sudden chill — as though his blood had gone cold.

What on earth was that?