Zuo Yan had been born into a family of distinguished military service. From childhood he had trained in martial arts and read the classics of the sages. He also knew that while the imperial family held authority in the present age, the Xuan Clan stood supreme — and even those of distinguished families such as his had to look up to them. He knew, too, that the world revered the Xuan Clan because there were things in this world that ordinary people could not touch — demons, monsters, and malevolent spirits walked among the living, and it required those of the Xuan Sect to exorcise evil and uphold righteousness.

And so in the eyes of ordinary people, those Xuan Sect practitioners who commanded Daoist arts and could ascend to the heavens and descend into the earth were like half-immortals — to be revered and respected.

But knowing this and experiencing it directly beside him were two different things. Hearing the word “curse” spoken in reference to something right at his side, Zuo Yan was briefly stunned.

His wife had been cursed?

“When you say ‘cursed’ — do you mean a hex, a malediction?” Zuo Yan swallowed, his words coming out almost forced through clenched teeth. “How is that possible!”

“Why is it not possible?” Lang Jiuchuan pressed one hand against Bai Shi’s Spiritual Altar acupoint as the woman cried out, and looked over with a detached expression. “What my eyes see is precisely this. Her meridians carry a malevolent curse attached to them — that is why they remain obstructed and unyielding, why her qi and blood cannot flourish. This curse will keep her perpetually weakened, and she will die of that very weakness — and in a way that leaves no traceable cause. In truth, if I had not arrived just now, she would already have been taken away by the soul-collecting ghost runner. And if that had happened, who could have known she died from a curse? Everyone would likely have said she was frail and sickly, that a high fever came and the medicines could not hold it, and she passed — nothing more.”

Zuo Yan stared at Bai Shi, now gradually growing quieter, and was at a loss for words.

Over these two days, he had summoned several imperial physicians and doctors from Wu Jing. All had told him to prepare himself, because whatever medicine was administered seemed to have no effect, making it very difficult for her to pull through.

He had not wanted to believe it — his wife was only twenty-seven, so young. How could she simply die like this? And so he had gone to seek out Lang Jiuchuan, hoping for a different verdict.

And he had received a different verdict, all right — it was a curse. Absurd, and hard to believe.

But Zuo Yan dared not disbelieve.

He had no other recourse.

“My wife is kind-hearted and gentle. Because of her frailty, she rarely goes out, and even when she receives invitations from other households, she declines most of them on account of her health — it is very unlikely she would have made enemies. How could she have been cursed?” Zuo Yan was bewildered.

Lang Jiuchuan thought of something Jiang Che had once said — that a woman’s jealousy can be terrifying.

She looked again at Zuo Yan’s face. Despite the haggardness, his fine features were still striking, his build imposing; his family background was more than adequate; and he was devoted and faithful in love. A man like this was surely the ideal husband in the hearts of many women.

“Sometimes, it’s not always the woman who is the source of trouble — a man can be just as much the source.” Lang Jiuchuan said meaningfully. “Setting aside everything else about the Young Lord, your family background alone is enough to make people covet you — oh, I mean, to captivate people. Resenting your wife for standing in the way, and deciding to do something about it — that is entirely possible.”

Zuo Yan’s face went green.

“No — it shouldn’t be that.” The nanny beside him, who had gone pale with fright, spoke up and looked over. “Our lady’s father — that is, the Lady’s father — also suffered from a weak constitution. He passed away young, beyond the help of medicine.”

Lang Jiuchuan was taken aback.

Zuo Yan nodded. “My father-in-law passed away when my wife was three years old. He was not yet twenty-six…”

He trailed off involuntarily and looked toward his wife on the bed. She had not yet reached thirty — was she truly going to follow in her father’s footsteps?

“May I ask which family the Young Lord’s wife comes from?”

“The former Director of the Imperial Academy, Lord Bai Kuanglin, is my wife’s paternal grandfather. Her father was Bai Lixin — he and his siblings were three in total…” Zuo Yan’s expression suddenly shifted slightly, his fingers trembling faintly. He looked toward the old nanny and asked, “Nanny Zhang — I recall that Ning’er’s young uncle drowned in a river at the age of nineteen, and her young aunt died in childbirth?”

Nanny Zhang grew increasingly frightened, nodding heavily. “That is so. The Second Young Master drowned during the Dragon Boat Festival watching the dragon boat races — his youngest child had not yet reached his first birthday. And the young miss of the family died in childbirth — she had just delivered a daughter before passing. That granddaughter is now fourteen.”

“It seems the Bai Family’s feng shui has gone awry. Three siblings — every single one died young.” Lang Jiuchuan rubbed her chin and asked, “And how is the health of this young Bai son and this cousin daughter?”

Nanny Zhang frowned. “When the young miss of the house died in childbirth, the cousin daughter was born in such a dire state that she barely had a breath in her. It was the attending physician at the time who drew out the amniotic fluid that had entered her throat and saved her — and as a result, her health has always been inconsistent, not truly robust. As for the young master now — his health is fine, except that the old master and mistress have spoiled and indulged him too much, letting him run rather wild.”

Zuo Yan had always known that people in his wife’s maternal family had died young. Before this, he had thought it was simply coincidence — at most, as Lang Jiuchuan had said, he had sighed at their misfortune and bad feng shui. But seeing it now — could this all be because of a curse?

He looked at Lang Jiuchuan and asked, “Doctor — could all of this be some manner of coincidence?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked at Bai Shi and shook her head. “As for the Bai Family’s situation, I cannot say for certain. But one death may be called fate cutting a life short, two is coincidence, and three is still a coincidence? Especially given that your wife has already been found to carry a curse — rather than attributing it to coincidence, it would be far more reasonable to boldly suppose that someone has placed curses on the descendants of the Bai Family.”

Zuo Yan’s face was dark. “Ning’er’s maternal grandparents are still alive and well, and my little brother-in-law is sixteen now with nothing amiss — that…”

“Does this not confirm all the more that the target is the Bai Family’s offspring? Both elder members are still living, yet their children — every single one died in the prime of their youth. And the next generation — those with frail health, that’s her, and also that cousin daughter. As for the young Bai son having nothing wrong with him — how can you be certain? Perhaps the timing simply has not come yet!”

Nanny Zhang’s knees went soft, and she sank to sit beside the bed, her face ashen.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Regardless of what other matters lie within the Bai Family, a visit there is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, the curse on your wife’s body will be very difficult to dispel. Just now when I attempted to use spiritual energy to touch the malevolent curse on her meridians, it sensed the threat and lashed back — that is why she suffered such agony. This curse is going to be troublesome.”

A malevolent curse attached to the meridians — if one attempted to forcibly remove it, the moment it sensed a threat, it would retaliate with full force. The consequences for the host could then be dire: once the malevolent curse erupted violently, it could sever every meridian in Bai Shi’s body. In that case, even if the curse were removed, she would be left a ruined person, unable to live long.

Striking at the mouse risks shattering the vase.

Having heard Lang Jiuchuan’s explanation, Zuo Yan’s complexion turned terribly grim. This was far more difficult to treat than simple physical frailty.

Nanny Zhang looked at Lang Jiuchuan with a slightly odd expression and asked, “Are you not a physician, miss?”

Lang Jiuchuan raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was a physician?”

The two of them both looked over.

“I have only studied a little of the Xuan Sect arts — medicine also falls within the scope of what I have studied, though I would not claim to have studied it especially well, and would not dare call myself a physician. But that is merely a title anyway — it matters little. My Daoist name is Qingyi, though I have not taken residence in any Daoist temple or monastery — I cultivate in the secular world. You may also call me Qingyi the Wanderer, or simply Lady Lang if you prefer.”

The two of them were somewhat at a loss for words. Too modest — studied it not especially well, yet a hand of gold needles was nothing short of miraculous; in an instant she had brought a high fever down. If she had studied it thoroughly, wouldn’t the person simply recover outright?

Just then, hasty footsteps approached the bedchamber door, and someone announced: “Young Lord, a messenger has arrived from the Bai estate. They say the young master has suddenly fallen gravely ill, and request that the Young Lord help petition for Imperial Physician Zhang Tang to come and examine him.”

The corner of Lang Jiuchuan’s eye shifted. What counted as coincidence — this was the real thing!