Cui Shi’s pulse was far from strong — the beat was thin and weak, the heart qi and blood qi both depleted, and there was a cold-cold constitution on top of it all. That heart condition was either something she had been born with or something that had developed afterward.

Jian Lan was silent for a moment, hesitating over whether she should say anything, until Lang Jiuchuan’s brow furrowed — at which point she spoke: “I heard from the senior maids who attend Madam that she had a difficult labor, and after giving birth she suffered blood deficiency. Because she held grief and worry locked inside her heart, she never properly recovered, and later the heart condition developed. But I also heard Cheng Nanny say that Madam’s mother — your maternal grandmother, that is — also had a heart condition from childhood, and passed away when Madam was thirteen.”

So there was a hereditary component as well.

Jian Lan, fearing Lang Jiuchuan would feel even more resentment toward Cui Shi, added quickly: “These years have not been easy for Madam either. She lives as a widow and does not associate much with the first or third branch. Only during the New Year and other festivals do they share a meal together — the rest of the time she keeps to this courtyard, quite lonely. Now that you have returned, the second branch will be livelier.”

Lang Jiuchuan smiled faintly. “Are you sure that the liveliness won’t come from me causing trouble and stirring things up?”

This…

Jian Lan thought back on all the commotion this young miss had stirred up since returning to the manor, and found herself at a loss for words. When she thought carefully about it — yes, it had certainly gotten lively, but it had also been an unceasing kind of upheaval.

Seeing Jian Lan at a loss, Lang Jiuchuan did not tease her further. “Let’s not talk of that. Go and ask about the medicinal herbs I need.”

“Yes, this servant understands.”

Just then, Da Man came in carrying a tray with the medicine prescribed by the manor physician for Lang Jiuchuan.

“Young Miss, it is time for your medicine.”

Lang Jiuchuan was about to say to take it away and pour it out — this medicine would do nothing for her — but then remembered that Da Man and Xiao Man had decocted it themselves, and so she took it, drained it in a single go, placed the bowl back on the tray, and said: “There is no need to prepare the remaining doses. I will switch to a different prescription.”

Da Man was taken aback and instinctively looked to Jian Lan. The latter thought for a moment and nodded: “Follow the Young Miss’s instructions. Da Man — you are now Young Miss’s personal maid.”

This was a reminder.

Whose person you are, whose word you follow.

Da Man immediately agreed.

Lang Jiuchuan heard this and glanced at Jian Lan. This girl was quite something.

Jian Lan took the prescription and left the courtyard. On her way she ran into Han Lan, who told her that Cheng Nanny was asking for her. So she made her way to Cui Shi’s courtyard, and after entering the inner chamber and paying her respects, she stood rigid with shock when she heard Cheng Nanny’s instructions.

Cheng Nanny read her expression and deliberately allowed a thin edge of displeasure into her tone: “What is this? You have been attending to the Young Miss for only two days, and your heart has already gone over to her side?”

Jian Lan’s face drained of color. She dropped to her knees at once. “This servant would not dare.”

“You little thing, you say you wouldn’t dare, but your heart is full of indignation…”

“Cheng Nanny — let it go.” Cui Shi interrupted her, looked at Jian Lan, and asked: “What is that in your hand?”

Jian Lan hesitated briefly, then held out the medication list with both hands. “The Young Miss wishes to have these medicinal herbs.”

Cheng Nanny took it, unfolded it, and the bold, sweeping script met her eyes — she was struck with astonishment. Could the Young Miss’s penmanship truly be this accomplished?

Cui Shi noticed her startled expression, reached over and glanced at the list, equally taken aback. “I recall that when she was small, the old Madam engaged a tutor for her who wrote a fine hand in regular script?”

The writing before her bore no resemblance to standard regular script — it was exactly like the girl herself: wild and overbearing.

Cheng Nanny said: “Indeed. Perhaps the Young Miss has studied two different styles.”

Cui Shi looked at the medicinal herbs listed, then thought of Lang Jiuchuan’s frail, easily-winded body. She pressed her lips together. Had suffering made her into something of a self-taught physician?

“Go and ask the First Young Madam to arrange it. If the communal stores do not have any, come back and search the private treasury — and if it cannot be found there either, send someone to a reputable apothecary to purchase it.”

Cui Shi handed the list back to Jian Lan and added: “Since your heart inclines toward her, go and attend to her instead.”

Jian Lan collapsed to her knees with a thud. “Madam, this servant…”

“Rise — I am not saying you have betrayed your mistress.” Cui Shi’s tone was even. “She needs people assigned to serve her. Since you get along well with her, you will do. Remember — from now on, your mistress is the Ninth Young Miss.”

Jian Lan looked to Cheng Nanny in distress and uncertainty. The latter said: “Still not giving thanks? Go on, pack your belongings and move to the Young Miss’s courtyard — serve her well from now on, or there will be consequences.”

Jian Lan could only kneel and kowtow three times in gratitude, pledge her loyalty, and then withdraw. She stood for a moment on the corridor, dazed, then went to pack her things and moved them to the side room in Lang Jiuchuan’s courtyard.

Lang Jiuchuan caught sight through the window of her returning with her bundle of belongings. She raised an eyebrow. Not long after, Jian Lan came in to report — she would be serving her from now on, and she asked Lang Jiuchuan to give her a name.

“What did they want to ask you when they called you over?” Lang Jiuchuan suddenly asked.

Jian Lan was startled. Her head shot up. Their eyes met. After a moment, she pressed her forehead to the floor and replied: “Madam wished to know whether Young Miss has a crescent-shaped birthmark on the back of her neck.”

Lang Jiuchuan was somewhat surprised. Her hand instinctively moved to the back of her own neck, and she grew pensive.

Jian Lan was deeply uneasy — she did not even dare raise her head, gripped by a sense of groundlessness, not knowing where to turn.

“Get up and check for me.”

Jian Lan let out a soft exclamation. She saw Lang Jiuchuan turn around, pull her collar down, and lift her hair aside. She rose and looked.

Smooth, pale skin — not a single blemish or scar, let alone any crescent-shaped birthmark.

Jian Lan’s face went deathly pale in an instant. Her hands twisted together with agitation. She had guessed at a possibility — Madam had sent her to discreetly check whether there was a birthmark on the back of Lang Jiuchuan’s neck, most likely because Madam believed that a birthmark would prove the girl was truly her daughter.

But the Young Miss had none. So then…

Was she truly an imposter?

Lang Jiuchuan noticed there was no movement from behind her. She turned around, saw that Jian Lan had gone ashen, and understood. “There is none?”

Jian Lan’s lips moved soundlessly, unable to produce a single word.

Lang Jiuchuan took the meaning, and said: “Go and report back.”

Jian Lan’s body stiffened. She stuttered: “Young — Young Miss…”

“Report honestly.”

Jian Lan was visibly shaken. She looked at Lang Jiuchuan’s face, and saw not the slightest sign of distress or hurt in her expression. A faint, inexplicable ache stirred in Jian Lan’s heart. How could it be otherwise?

And yet — how could it possibly be?

Lang Jiuchuan toyed with her talisman brush. She understood perfectly well that the thread of blood connection was real and not false. So was the birthmark Cui Shi was looking for a product of her own imagination, or was it something that had truly existed?

This matter was beginning to interest her.

She thought for a moment. With a flicker of intention, she drove her talisman brush through the air and began to write a name — she wrote the character Lang, and immediately felt the flow of her mental force stall. She went on to write Jiu, and though it was only two strokes, each felt as heavy as a thousand catties, and searing pain erupted through her soul.

As the character Chuan came down with its very first stroke, her soul felt as if it were being seized by hands and violently torn apart — her mental force stretched taut and then snapped.

Pfft.

Lang Jiuchuan coughed up a mouthful of heart’s blood, and toppled backward. The talisman brush fell. Her soul surged straight out of the body.

And the corpse lying on the ground — her corpse — had, from the excessive exertion of force, come apart.

Inside a temple where he had been pilfering incense ash, Jiangche felt a searing agony rip through his spiritual consciousness. With a crash, his form knocked into the incense burner, sending it toppling, and ash scattered across the floor in all directions.

Jiangche stared in horror at his rapidly dissipating spiritual consciousness and frantically mustered his prayer-accumulated power to hold it together. At the same time, he bellowed with furious panic into her spiritual platform: “You reckless woman! What in the blazes are you doing to yourself?! Pull yourself together this instant!”