Lang Jiuchuan was sent sprawling to the ground by the blow. She looked up at the person who had struck her, ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, then spat — a mouthful of blood.

She almost laughed out of sheer fury.

A single slap, and it had knocked her flat. This body — it really was pathetically frail.

She picked herself up off the floor, licked the corner of her lip, fixed a cold gaze on Cui Shi for one brief moment, and walked out.

Cui Shi stood staring blankly at her own palm, then down at the mouthful of blood on the floor. It felt as if an invisible hand had closed around her heart — she could hardly breathe.

This is not my child. She is not.

Cui Shi pressed her fingernails hard into her palm, waved off the Nanny who moved to support her, and walked out of the mourning hall on unsteady feet.

Those left behind exchanged glances, expressions running the full range — stunned, gloating, curious, all manner of looks mixed together.

Lang Zhengping felt his face burning hot. Making a scene like this in front of outsiders — was there anything good to be seen in it?

He cleared his throat awkwardly: “Elder Zhao, after all this… why don’t we move to the main reception hall for some tea?”

Elder Zhao shook his head. “I came to send your father off on his way and to honor the bond between our two families. You have matters to attend to in these mourning rites — I won’t trouble you for tea. When it’s time for the funeral procession, our household will have a roadside offering prepared.”

Lang Zhengping thanked him profusely.

He walked the grandfather and grandson out of the mourning hall, out of the manor, and saw them into their carriage. Once they were seated, Elder Zhao spoke again: “That girl just now…”

Lang Zhengping was quick to explain: “She is the posthumous child of my second brother — born premature, never in good health, and so she was sent to the estate to be raised. She only came back today. She grew up without proper education at her family’s side, and her manners are lacking for it. Her mouth runs away with her — as her elder uncle, I offer you an apology on her behalf.”

He stepped back and made a deep, formal bow.

Zhao Yuancheng started to speak but caught a look from his grandfather and fell silent.

Elder Zhao asked: “That child — she has been on the estate all this time?”

Lang Zhengping wasn’t sure where the question was leading, but he nodded.

“Zhengfan died young on the battlefield — that child is his only flesh and blood, isn’t she? Packing a child off to the estate — the uncles of a different branch doing it is one thing — but even the mother could bear it?”

Lang Zhengping heard the probing note of reproach in those words and felt his face grow uncomfortable. He fumbled: “The Zhenren Xuanjing of Huguo Temple once said their mother-daughter birth characters were in conflict, so…”

Elder Zhao was unconvinced. Birth characters in conflict or not, that was still flesh of her own flesh. And this was her only child — yet the mother had raised a hand to her without hesitation, right there in front of everyone. Something was not right here — it could not be explained by birth characters alone.

But it was the Lang Family’s internal affair, and he could not press too deeply into it. He only thought of Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes — black and still as a whirlpool on the ocean floor — and her words replayed in his mind, and his heart gave an erratic, uneasy throb.

He was even seized by an impulse to step out of the carriage and go back to find that child and demand an explanation.

“Go on back.” Elder Zhao clenched his fingers, turned his gaze toward the depths of the manor compound, and at last lowered his eyes, concealing the turbulence beneath them, and let the carriage curtain fall closed.

Lang Zhengping watched the carriage roll away, brow furrowing, then turned and walked briskly back into the manor.

Inside the carriage, Zhao Yuancheng spoke in a low voice: “Grandfather, that Lang Jiu was far too brazen. Why did you let her off so easily?”

“If I didn’t let her off, what — a man old enough to be her grandfather bickering with a little girl? Word would get out and people would only say the girl speaks out of turn and knows no better — and more than that, they’d say that Zhao Lin is petty and lacks dignity.” Elder Zhao looked at his grandson and sighed. “You — you just can’t hold yourself steady.”

Zhao Yuancheng said: “I was simply angry on your behalf, Grandfather. This goes beyond speaking out of turn — she outright cursed you. Forgive me for not being able to remain indifferent.”

“Did you not stop to wonder — how could a girl that young say what she said?”

“What she said? What do you mean?”

“You saved someone who should not have been saved.”

Zhao Yuancheng’s expression was one of genuine bewilderment. “Did she say that? What does ‘saving someone who should not have been saved’ even mean?”

Elder Zhao’s hand gave a sudden tremor. His face had gone white with shock.

He hadn’t heard it?