The moment she heard the maidservant’s report, Lang Cailing felt as though she had been struck by lightning. Her vision went dark, and she nearly fainted on the spot. She could not have imagined—not in her wildest thoughts—that her mother-in-law, a proper Lady of a ducal household, would seize upon her daughter-in-law’s absence to take her granddaughter to her own daughter’s side, without a word of warning, presenting her with a fait accompli. This kind of behavior—what did it differ from common thievery?
No wonder she had not allowed her to bring Xueduo back to the family home. So that had been the plan all along.
“What kind of grandmother does a thing like this? That child is her own flesh and blood—how could she—if anything happens to my Xueduo, I will fight her with my life!” Lang Cailing said through gritted teeth, her voice seething.
Xueduo was the pet name she and her husband had given their daughter—because the child’s skin was as white as snow, and because both parents shared a fondness for viewing snowfall, they had settled on that name to call her by.
Lang Jiuchuan watched the position on Lang Cailing’s face governing children and pressed her lips together slightly. When she had first seen her, the area associated with children had been luminous and full, suffused with a warm red-gold radiance—a fortunate sign indicating healthy, clever children who would bring joy to their parents.
But the moment the servant had delivered the news, that radiance had dimmed, veiled beneath a layer of dull grey. By now, a thread of dark, bluish-black energy had already begun to seep through, and the position itself had shifted and hollowed.
A darkened child’s position, invaded by that bluish-black energy—this was a grave ill omen, indicating that a child was about to suffer misfortune in the near future, whether through illness, accident, or the peril of death or separation.
Moreover, the shadow fell over the right lower eyelid—the position governing daughters. Combined with what Lang Cailing had just described—the devoted Lady Wen acting in a moment of reckless desperation and secretly bringing the child away—it seemed all but certain that her daughter was about to be struck by a sudden illness or meet with an accident that could prove fatal.
Lang Jiuchuan’s heart sank quietly. She patted the inner wall of the carriage. “Faster.”
An invisible force radiated outward. The carriage seemed to take on a will of its own—the horses surged forward with a burst of speed, and in an instant they had gone, yet somehow with remarkable precision, not so much as brushing past a single passerby on the road.
The carriage: I must be seeing things—why is the scenery rushing past me so fast?
Lang Cailing was shaken by Lang Jiuchuan’s cold, grave air. “Ninth Sister…”
“It will be all right,” Lang Jiuchuan said quietly.
Tears welled up in Lang Cailing’s eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. Ninth Sister had said it would be all right, so it would be all right.
Don’t panic. Don’t be afraid.
Lang Cailing clutched the protective amulet she wore at her waist, silently mouthing prayers—then caught herself. She should be invoking a Daoist blessing, shouldn’t she—Blessed be the boundless Heavenly Venerable?
At the Lu Household, the courtyard belonging to Wen Yue had become as chaotic as a marketplace. The infant’s sharp, anguished wails mingled with the soothing voices of maidservants and older female attendants, all tangled together with shrill shouting—the entire yard had dissolved into hopeless disorder.
Lady Wen had never anticipated this. She had meant only to bring her still-swaddled granddaughter for her daughter to see—to offer some comfort, hoping it might help her daughter’s madness begin to ease. Instead of comfort, the sight had only agitated Wen Yue further, and now she clutched the swaddled infant in a death grip—one moment shrieking that everyone had deceived her, the next screaming that the child was cursed and deserved death—leaving everyone present utterly terrified.
Lady Wen had brought the child as a remedy in desperation, not with any intent to harm her little granddaughter. After all, this was the legitimate eldest daughter of the Duke’s household—if anything truly happened to the child, never mind her mother-in-law above her, even the Duke himself, who was otherwise so indulgent of her, would not look on her with any kindness.
“Yue’er, give the child to me first—she’s about to choke from crying.” Lady Wen pleaded as she turned to snap at the servants around her: “Are you all made of stone? Why haven’t you taken the child from her?”
Wen Yue’s cheeks were flushed crimson. The bun she had never managed to pin tightly had long since come loose, her hair tangled and disheveled, her eyes glazed and unfocused—she looked the very picture of someone who had lost all sense and reason. At the words addressed to her, she only gripped the swaddled bundle even tighter. “Don’t come near me—don’t come near me—if anyone comes near me, I’ll throw her.”
Lady Wen’s vision went black. She hastened to soothe her in a gentle voice: “Don’t—Yue’er, none of us will come near, don’t worry. Be careful now, don’t frighten the child. This is your daughter. Look at her carefully—how could you bear to see her suffer?”
“My child?” Wen Yue looked down at the swaddled infant wailing herself breathless, face deep red, throat hoarse with the effort, small body trembling slightly—and then, as though she were looking upon a demon-child rather than her own daughter, she let out a piercing scream. “No—no, she’s not my child. Give me back my child. This isn’t her—this is an evil ghost, a demon! Ahh—ahhhh!”
Lady Lu arrived in a press of attendants and caught those last words. Her expression darkened. “What are you all standing there gaping for?” she barked. “Restrain the Young Mistress and bring that child back to me.”
Lady Wen went green. “Madam Lu, please—don’t provoke Yue’er further!”
“Provoke? If it weren’t for your brilliant idea, would she have come to this?” Lady Lu shot her a sharp look. “You were willing enough to send the legitimate eldest young miss of the Duke’s household over here—but we, the Lu Family, are not in the habit of stealing other people’s children.”
“You—you!” Lady Wen’s fury rose. “I was only trying to help Yue’er’s recovery. What has your family done for her? Where is her husband? Where is my son-in-law? My Yue’er is gravely ill, and he couldn’t spare a moment to remain by her side—”
Her son was Lady Lu’s very life. The retort came with a sharp edge: “What man of substance is not out in the world building his achievements? My son holds the rank of a Fourth-Grade Personnel Vice Minister—should he abandon his duties at the Ministry to keep his wife company in idle entertainment all day? The sons of the Lu Family read books and serve the realm for the benefit of the people of Da Shang—we are not those useless scions who spend their days lounging beneath women’s skirts.”
Those pointed words landed precisely on another bruise for Lady Wen—her own younger son was, after all, exactly the sort of pleasure-seeking rake who was forever lingering in the company of women.
“You—”
“Stop quarreling—both of you, stop—you’re making my head split. Be quiet. And you, stop crying!” Wen Yue suddenly screamed.
“Waaah!” Startled by the outburst, the infant in the swaddling cloth cried even more piercingly, her small throat beginning to quiver, her tiny body trembling in faint convulsions.
It was the moment Lang Jiuchuan and Lang Cailing burst into the courtyard that they were confronted with a sight that struck cold terror into the heart.
Wen Yue—hollow-eyed and haggard, her expression wild and deranged—was gripping the swaddled bundle in a death grip, weeping and laughing all at once, like a woman utterly possessed. Those around her were doing everything they could to keep her steady.
But then Wen Yue heard the child’s desperate, anguished wailing, and rather than calming, she seemed to be struck by something—some raw nerve—and in a single violent motion, she raised the swaddled bundle high above her head and screamed: “You are not my child! My child would never cry like this—I’ll make you stop crying!”
And with that, she was about to hurl the bundle down onto the ground with all her strength.
“No—NO—!” Lang Cailing’s scream tore from her throat, raw and shattering. Her legs gave way entirely, and she collapsed to her knees.
Everyone in the courtyard erupted into screams. Lady Wen’s eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the ground in a faint.
In that split second, with everything hanging by a thread—
A shadowy figure swept past like a ghost, so swift that nothing remained but a blur.
Lang Jiuchuan appeared at Wen Yue’s side. Her hand moved like lightning—a single fingertip lightly brushed a pressure point on Wen Yue’s wrist, and the arm went instantly numb, all strength draining out of it. The swaddled bundle slipped from her grip.
And in that same instant, Lang Jiuchuan’s other hand moved—steady, unhurried, and utterly precise—to catch the falling bundle, drawing it close and cradling it securely against her chest.