When Lang Jiuchuan finished speaking — declaring that the feng shui here was unfavorable and that recovering at the Duke’s estate would surely bring improvement — Lady Lu and Lady Wen, who had been unable to contain themselves and had poked their heads in to look, were both momentarily stunned.

Lu Ruiting, in that same instant, let a flash of cold light shoot from his eyes toward Lang Jiuchuan — yet to his surprise, she was already looking back at him. Her gaze was colder and sharper than his own, those dark and luminous eyes reflecting his image back at him, as though she could see through every hidden thought in his mind.

For one fleeting moment, Lu Ruiting felt as though the King of Hell himself had fixed his gaze upon him. A chill ran down his spine, and he hurriedly lowered his head, his heart seized with a sudden inward alarm.

He had just heard Lang Jiuchuan’s words and felt a surge of anxiety, and sensing his own dignity being challenged, he had momentarily forgotten to maintain his facade.

And her expression — it was as though she had seen through something entirely!

He couldn’t help but recall what the servant who had come to fetch him home had said: it was Wen Yue’s sister-in-law from her maternal family who had invited her own younger sister to diagnose her illness — the ninth young lady of the Marquis Kaiping estate.

This was a Daoist practitioner who had attained the Way through the golden lotus, and whose name had resounded far and wide because of the Rong family affair. No, perhaps the title of Heavenly Master would be more fitting!

This woman was not to be looked down upon, nor could she be regarded as an ordinary noble young lady.

From that single exchange of glances, Lu Ruiting had already begun to regard Lang Jiuchuan as a formidable political adversary — the kind one could scarcely afford to face on the official arena.

He rapidly composed himself, and when he raised his head again, he clasped his hands together in a bow toward Lang Jiuchuan: “I am most grateful to the ninth young lady of the Lang family for coming to diagnose my wife’s illness. However, Yue’er’s condition is severe, and she truly should not be moved or relocated. Moreover, the Lu family has its own capable physicians, and I will certainly spare no effort in seeking the finest doctors and attending to her with great care. There is no need to trouble the Duke’s estate.”

How could Lu Ruiting possibly allow Wen Yue to return to her maternal home to recuperate? Wen Yue “dying of illness” right under his watch was the perfect conclusion he envisioned — it would both preserve his reputation as a devoted husband and permanently bury the secret of his preference for men. But if she were allowed to return to the Duke Huguo estate, surrounded by the careful attention of her own family, and she were to recover, or let slip something she ought not to say…

He turned his head toward Lang Caining and sighed: “I am deeply sorry about what happened to Xueduo. She is still young, and she nearly suffered a terrible catastrophe. The blame falls entirely on me for being away entertaining guests and not being home — it was that which brought on the shock to Yue’er. You see, she was further distressed simply by seeing Xueduo. If she were to return to the Duke’s estate to recuperate, I fear it would only be counterproductive.”

“That is…” Lang Caining hesitated for a moment. If Wen Yue were to be startled again by the sound of the child crying, who would bear the responsibility for that?

“Indeed, indeed.” Lady Lu could no longer hold herself back and walked inside, speaking up in support: “Miss Lang, First Young Mistress of our relations by marriage, dear Madam, our Lu family will certainly take excellent care of Yue’er. As for sending her back to her maternal home to recuperate — if word of that got out… people would think our Lu family mistreats our daughter-in-law!”

What she was truly worried about was the family’s reputation, and her son’s good name.

Lady Wen, however, was somewhat swayed. This arrangement would mean she wouldn’t need to send her granddaughter to the Lu household, and if Wen Yue were to recover, seeing the child again without being in such a frenzied state would only help her heal faster.

Yet she said nothing, and instead looked first toward Lang Jiuchuan, waiting to hear what she would say.

Lang Jiuchuan was thoroughly exasperated. “Wen Yue’s condition is phlegm clouding the heart orifices,” she said. “The Lu family is a prestigious and prominent clan — I naturally trust that you have renowned physicians attending to her. But it has been nearly five months since she gave birth, and she has yet to recover. This clearly indicates that the feng shui here is unfavorable — the stagnant energy in this place is nothing but harmful to someone already ill. If you wish for her to recover, she must be relocated immediately, to a place with auspicious feng shui and free-flowing energy where she may rest and convalesce. When it comes to feng shui, it is better to believe it exists than to dismiss it — is it not? Furthermore, this is merely a matter of recuperating at her maternal home. Who would dare say anything against it? Your obstruction — is it that you do not wish for Wen Yue to recover, or is it that young Master Lu is hoping for one of the three great fortunes a man can encounter in life to befall him?”

Lang Caining was bewildered: “What three great fortunes?”

“Promotion, wealth, and the death of one’s wife!”

Lang Caining: “!”

No matter how refined Lu Ruiting’s composure, no matter how skilled his pretense, he could sustain it no longer. His face hardened with a thin veneer of fury: “I have done you no wrong, ninth young lady. Why do you harbor such malicious assumptions about me?”

“Yes, yes, one must not speak carelessly — is this not a ruination of someone’s reputation?” Lady Lu was deeply displeased.

Lady Wen, though also dark-faced — wasn’t this a curse against Yue’er? — upon deeper reflection found no shortage of logic in the words, and so simply kept her face rigid and said not a single word.

Lang Jiuchuan slowly raised her eyes, her gaze like ice blades cutting straight into Lu Ruiting, and the corners of her mouth curved into a cold arc: “Speaking carelessly? You think the words of Lang Jiuchuan are not worth believing? Or do you think I cannot see that this courtyard’s atmosphere is heavy with secretive and shadowy energy — which, for someone who is ill, is as insidious as a festering infection clinging to the bone?”

Lu Ruiting felt his heart lurch under her gaze, and steadied himself with great effort: “What does the ninth young lady mean by this? The Lu family has stood for a hundred years as an upright and honorable clan — from where would any shadowy energy come?”

“Oh? Is that so?” Lang Jiuchuan’s voice was unhurried and light, yet carried an immense pressure with it: “You have likely forgotten my background. I entered the Dao from a very young age. Among the five arts of the Daoist tradition, I am not only versed in the way of medicine — I also have considerable experience in feng shui, physiognomy, exorcising spirits, and driving away evil. But what I am most skilled at is tearing away the mask of false virtue from certain people, to see whether what lies beneath is human or demon. Young Master Lu… shall I divine a hexagram for you?”

The implication and the threat in these words were practically displayed in plain sight!

Lu Ruiting’s face drained to a deathly pale in an instant, cold sweat seeping through him. With the guilt of a thief burdening his conscience, how could he fail to hear that Lang Jiuchuan was pointing directly at his predilection for men — that shameful secret he had concealed from the world?

He had not the slightest doubt: if he truly provoked this harbinger of disaster who had even managed to bring down the Rong family, she was absolutely capable of destroying his reputation entirely!

“You—!” Lu Ruiting was both shocked and furious. His complexion darkened, and he fixed Lang Jiuchuan with a withering glare — yet he did not dare truly tear off all pretense.

His greatest fear was the exposure of his secret. Caught in this trap with no room to maneuver, he found himself so thoroughly silenced that he could not produce a single word. He could only gnash his teeth in silent fury, wishing he could devour Lang Jiuchuan alive.

Lang Caining watched her brother-in-law with a look of strange bewilderment, her pupils trembling slightly. He had always been refined, composed, gentle, and cultured — even proud of his prestigious lineage, well-read in the classics of the sages, a jinshi degree holder in official service, someone who had never thought much of nobles and marquis families. And yet now he looked as though some hidden, shameful secret had been jabbed right where it hurt, and he was beside himself with humiliated rage.

Could it be that Ninth Sister had truly discovered something?

Lang Caining eyed him with suspicion — and Lady Lu as well, who had also changed her expression — and felt her doubts growing heavier by the moment.

Something was wrong with the Lu family, mother and son both!

But Lang Jiuchuan did not linger any further on his unsightly display. She turned instead toward Wen Yue, who lay on the bed with a vacant expression, and softened her voice somewhat — yet it carried a strange and guiding quality: “Wen Yue, do you wish to return to the Duke’s estate? If you remain here, you will only be slowly worn to death by certain filthy things.”

Return to the Duke’s estate to recuperate. Survive. And perhaps you will yet find your child.

These words were transmitted into Wen Yue’s ear through a whispered technique for private transmission of sound alone.

The matter of the child still living was not something she intended to reveal to the Lu family — nor, for now, to the Duke Huguo estate either. She had not yet sorted through the threads, and it was not yet the time to make it known.

But Wen Yue’s gaze, fixed upon her, was blazing with fierce intensity. A powerful light erupted in her eyes: “I want to go back to the Duke’s estate.”

The color that drained from Lu Ruiting’s face was extreme. The look he cast toward Wen Yue was as cold as ice.

Lang Caining happened to catch a glimpse of it, and was startled. When she looked again more carefully, he had already resumed that helpless and sorrowful expression — yet in her heart, for reasons she could not name, she felt an inexplicable unease crawling through her.

Strange. Why was it that all of a sudden, she found this well-born noble gentleman utterly loathsome?