The one who had burst in was none other than the cause of all this—Lady Wen herself.

At the sight of her, Lang Cailing snatched up her daughter, who had fallen into deep slumber, and pulled her close like a mother animal shielding her young. The look she turned on Lady Wen was filled with fear, furious protectiveness, and undisguised hatred.

It was this woman who had nearly caused her to be separated from her daughter forever.

Lady Wen saw that look, and something in her chest gave an uneasy lurch—caught between irritation and guilt. Her face was a study in embarrassment and remorse as she asked quietly: “Yuér’s mother—how is Xueduo? She wasn’t frightened, was she? Let her grandmother have a look—”

“Get out.” Lang Cailing’s eyes burned with fury. She kept her voice low so as not to wake her sleeping child, but it was colder and harder than she had ever spoken before. “You have no right to look at her. You call yourself her grandmother—and yet you took advantage of my absence to forcibly bring her here, and this is what she suffered for it. My child is fortunate—she met with a guardian and escaped with her life. But if Xueduo had suffered even the slightest harm today, I would not have let you go, nor Wen Yue, nor the Lu Family—none of you.”

Being upbraided in such blunt terms by her own daughter-in-law—Lady Wen’s composure crumbled. Stung with shame and wounded pride, she began to defend herself: “I—I only wanted to help your eldest sister-in-law. You know how well she treated you in the old days. She was one of the Four Beauties of Wu Jing—and now look at her, reduced to this pitiful madness. My heart is breaking for her. I thought—I thought perhaps having a child beside her might help her recover. How was I to know she would suddenly—Xueduo is my own granddaughter. Would I truly do her harm?”

“And you still dare to argue?” Lang Cailing shook with barely contained fury. “She has already lost her sanity from grief over her child. How could you dare use mine to take that risk? Your daughter is your flesh and blood—and mine is no different to me. Xueduo is barely three months old—she nearly—nearly—” She could not finish. Her voice broke, and tears poured down her face.

Lady Wen was silenced, her expression cycling between deep red and ashen white. With nowhere else to turn, she looked toward Lang Jiuchuan with a strained, conciliatory tone: “It is a blessing that the young miss from the cousins’ family happened to be present today. Thank you for intervening—for preventing Yue’er from doing something she could never undo, and for keeping our little Xueduo safe from harm.”

Lang Jiuchuan gave her a cool, level look. Her voice was not raised, yet her words found their way into Lady Wen’s ears like needles of ice: “Lady Wen’s devotion to her daughter is truly…moving. But this maternal love of yours is selfish and ruthless in equal measure—and I find it impossible to condone. You used another woman’s child as a remedy for your daughter’s illness. How could you know that a remedy would not become a poison? As things stand now—Wen Yue’s mind was lost, her reason shattered, and she made a motion to dash a child against the ground. Even if her madness is to blame, what happens when she comes to her senses and remembers what she did today? What becomes of her then? How does she face her brother and sister-in-law—and her own niece—after this? You speak of no great harm having been done. The harm was done the moment she acted. And that act—was committed by your hand.”

“Had I not happened to be present, the Lu Household would have gained a second story of an infant’s death—and this time, by human hands. At that point, could you have taken responsibility for your daughter’s crime? Or would you have found it acceptable to sacrifice one innocent life in exchange for a single moment of clarity for your daughter—a child’s entire existence weighed against half a strand of your daughter’s hair? And your son—do you suppose he would not dare, would not be willing, to blame you even the slightest for what happened?”

Lang Jiuchuan’s words were merciless—precise, relentless, and utterly without quarter.

Lady Wen’s chest heaved violently. Her face had gone scarlet to the roots. She burned to offer some retort—at her age, to be dressed down like this by a young woman, told things that made her want to sink into the floor—it was unprecedented.

But the moment she tried to look at Lang Jiuchuan, those ice-cold eyes that seemed to see straight through to the soul met hers, and she remembered who this young woman was and what she was capable of. Her own conscience was not clean in this matter. The anger choked in her throat, and she swallowed it down, grinding her teeth in silent resentment. She slid a wounded, resentful look toward Lang Cailing.

You would let your cousin-in-law humiliate your mother-in-law like this?

Lang Cailing couldn’t have cared less if Lady Wen dropped dead—the look she returned was every bit as venomous.

Lady Wen could neither retaliate nor escape gracefully, and was left to offer a stiff, unconvincing conclusion: “What matters now is that Xueduo is safe. She was watched over by an auspicious guardian—she is a fortunate child.”

She turned to leave.

“Your daughter would have recovered on her own,” Lang Jiuchuan said. “Three Sister had come home to her family today precisely to ask me to examine and treat her. And now—hmph.”

Lady Wen froze. She turned back slowly, her expression complex as she looked between Lang Cailing and Lang Jiuchuan in turn.

“Get out,” Lang Cailing snapped.

Lady Wen did not dare add fuel to the fire. She withdrew in sullen retreat.

Lang Cailing settled onto the daybed with her child in her arms, one hand patting the swaddled bundle softly as she watched her daughter’s color return—the complexion growing rosy once more, breath long and even. That peaceful little face filled her with overwhelming gratitude.

After the chaos of what had just passed, what little sympathy Lang Cailing had held for her sister-in-law Wen Yue had mostly dissolved, leaving only fury and lingering dread. She had no wish to ask Lang Jiuchuan to treat the woman who had nearly killed her daughter. But then she thought of all the years before, and the woman Wen Yue had once been, and then she looked at her daughter lying there—breathed in the soft milk-and-warmth scent of her—and in the end, her heart softened. That was still a human life. And if things were left as they were, she would forever be a source of danger.

She let out a quiet breath and turned to Lang Jiuchuan. “Ninth Sister—if you are still willing, and if it is not too inconvenient—go and see her. I cannot just stand by and watch someone deteriorate into complete madness. We are both women. We are both mothers. I understand her pain—especially now.”

The terror of nearly losing her own daughter had just been made absolutely real to her.

Lang Jiuchuan glanced at her, then gave a single nod. The truth was, she still harbored a quiet suspicion about that infant—the one said to have been born with an extraordinary phoenix fate and died within a day. This was precisely the opportunity she needed to look more closely.

Lang Cailing had a trusted Nanny from Lady Fan’s household take the baby in her arms, instructing her senior maidservant to remain at her side without a single step away. As for the wet nurse and the other servants—she would deal with them when she got home. Then she followed along as well.

Wen Yue was curled into the corner of her bed, eyes vacant, unwilling to allow any physician near her. Compared to the frenzied, raving madness of earlier, she now seemed more like a shell drained of its soul—cold, hollow, inert—her lips moving continuously in a barely audible murmur.

Lady Lu stood nearby watching, her patience exhausted, and she said several more cutting things. Lady Wen, whose mother’s instinct to protect her daughter overwhelmed all else, could not hold back, and the two women began to argue again.

Lang Jiuchuan had had enough. She said flatly, her expression darkening: “All unnecessary persons—out.”

Lang Cailing added: “I am here out of old regard, and as a mother choosing to be magnanimous, to allow my sister to examine Wen Yue. That does not mean I have forgiven her. Keep arguing, and I will take my sister home this instant and spare myself the trouble.”

Having learned that Lang Jiuchuan was willing to treat Wen Yue, everyone felt both ashamed and chastened. They shuffled out, jostling one another into the corridor.

Quiet settled over the room.

A maidservant brought an embroidered stool to the bedside. Lang Jiuchuan looked at Wen Yue and said: “Come here. I will help you find your daughter.”

Wen Yue’s murmuring stopped. Her head turned toward Lang Jiuchuan in rigid, jerky motion, and a faint light seemed to rekindle in her eyes.