Song Chuning had never been one to accept defeat willingly. Even in death, she had to die differently from ordinary people—she had to die spectacularly, making the living tremble with fear every day under the shadow she left behind.

Old Madam Song frowned as she looked toward Song Chuyi, her eyes full of worry. As an elderly person, she was particularly superstitious in many matters. Add to that the fact that the Song family had produced two girls in succession who obtained knowledge of the future through dreams—such extraordinary encounters—and she believed even more strongly in matters of ghosts and spirits.

Her heart suddenly convulsed several times in her chest. She felt her heart pounding violently. She slowly closed her eyes to ease the dizziness, then turned to instruct First Madam, “Handle this overnight. Tomorrow morning, dispatch several carriages out of the capital, saying that our Eighth Miss’s condition has worsened and she’s contracted measles, so she needs to recuperate at the estate.”

Song Chuning’s death came at a rather inopportune time—in the next few days, Song Chuxuan and Song Chubin’s future in-laws were supposed to visit for formal viewing. Ordinarily, when an unmarried girl died young, it wouldn’t really affect anything much. But she had died during the New Year period when there were many visits from relatives, which would still cause some trouble.

The wind outside changed direction and swept into the room, scattering papers that had been carelessly placed on the table throughout the room.

Old Madam Song pulled off a sheet of letter paper that the wind had blown against her face. Just as she was about to throw it away, her eyes caught sight of something and her movement froze—the vermillion red characters on it were particularly striking, appearing especially eerie and horrifying in the dim lamplight and howling north wind.

First Madam Song had sharp eyes. With a glance, she couldn’t help but shudder. She quickly took the letter paper, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it with a wave of her hand into the room. Dead people’s belongings were already inauspicious, especially during the New Year period, and particularly when that dead person had written words like “curse of family annihilation” beforehand—it made one feel even more that ghostly winds swirled through this room in an extraordinarily sinister manner.

Old Madam Song led First Madam Song and Song Chuyi out. Nanny Jin couldn’t wait to step forward and lock the door, as if there were malicious ghosts inside the room.

And indeed, Song Chuning hadn’t given people peace of mind when she was alive, and now even her death was so unusual—it would be hard not to be frightened.

Old Madam Song let out a breath and took Song Chuyi’s hand, somewhat at a loss for words. After a long while, she finally patted the back of her hand and sighed softly, “Tomorrow you should still go to your maternal aunt’s home to pay New Year respects. In a few days, I’ll take you to Huangjue Temple.”

The curse Song Chuning had left behind truly weighed on one’s heart.

Song Chuyi pulled her cloak closer around herself. The smooth, lustrous fox fur covered most of her face, but her voice remained steady as always, “I understand. Grandmother, rest assured—I’m not afraid.”

But First Madam Song was afraid! Those four large characters on the paper—”may they die badly”—had truly frightened half her soul away. The most terrifying part was that those papers flying everywhere also bore the names of everyone in the Song family.

The only one with a blank space for a name… Thinking of the little grandson who had just been born and not yet named, First Madam Song became exceptionally angry, “Mother, perhaps we should still ask Master Yuanhui to come in person. I’m truly quite uneasy.”

Old Madam Song understood her thoughts and appreciated her wholehearted care for her children. After thinking it over, she nodded, “Then let’s go the day after tomorrow. I didn’t go to pay respects at the temple this year, so we’ll go on the seventh day—that will be just right.”

Ziyun and Qing Tao held lanterns on either side, sheltering Song Chuyi between them. Occasionally when they made eye contact, each saw their own pale face reflected in the other’s eyes.

The two of them had followed Song Chuyi until now and could be considered to have experienced things, but today’s matter was different—those were four whole corpses!

Song Chuyi’s focus wasn’t on this. She was thinking about Song Chuning’s letter and suddenly felt she had gained some insight.

She had always understood Song Chuning very well. Combining the experiences of her past and present lives, one could say she knew Song Chuning inside and out. In that letter, Song Chuning had wished her and Song Yan a long life of a hundred years free from illness and disaster—this was truly too terrifying.

Everyone else in the Song family, including the little one who had just been born and didn’t yet have a name, had received curses. Yet the very people Song Chuning should have hated to the bone—herself and Song Yan—were the ones she blessed with a long life of a hundred years?

She lowered her head in thought for a while, then drowsily closed her eyes on the bed.

But in a courtyard of Marquis Jinxiang’s mansion on North Hua Lane, the lights still burned brightly.

The room was heated intensely by charcoal fires. Wei Yanjun had his garments open, bare from the waist up, lying back against Han Zhi’s lap, his black hair spread across the bed. “Han Zhi,” he called out. Seeing Han Zhi look toward him, he sat entirely upon him, “Your mother is becoming increasingly displeased with me. Today she nearly didn’t let me through the door.”

There was some grievance in his tone, yet his face bore a smile. His somewhat feminine features showed dimples that appeared and disappeared, quite alluring.

Han Zhi rather casually patted his buttocks, lazily and carelessly playing with his hair, “She won’t do such foolish things. Stop trying to sow discord with these useless tactics in front of me.”

Wei Yanjun pouted rather uninterestedly and lay obediently against his chest like a cat, “Tell me, what kind of woman is your mother really? I see that she’s also indifferent toward your father—raising all those illegitimate sons and daughters properly. She shows you no special treatment either. You’re away from home year-round, yet she’s too lazy to even write a letter, let alone show you any warmth and concern. Take today’s return, for example—even during dinner, her eyes didn’t sweep in your direction once.”

The door swayed almost soundlessly. Han Zhi sat up and looked at the person now seated before his eyes, his expression somewhere between smiling and not, “There’s news from that end?”

Wei Yanjun also pulled his clothes together and leaned coquettishly against the pillow with a laugh, “Yanxi, how is it you seem to have aged a bit again?”

Wei Yanxi ignored him, his gaze settling on Han Zhi, his expression completely unmoved, “There’s news. When do we make our move?”

Han Zhi rolled over and got out of bed, casually picking up a wine flask and pouring a mouthful into his mouth, “In a couple days. With so many flower viewing parties in the capital these days, even for the sake of those few granddaughters of hers, Old Madam Song won’t announce Eighth Miss Song’s death so quickly.”

Wei Yanjun embraced Han Zhi’s neck from behind, resting his head on his shoulder to look at Wei Yanxi, “Han Zhi, I think you should still advise His Highness—being too greedy probably isn’t a good thing. Since Sixth Miss Song and Eighth Miss Song are both so special, preparing to gather both of them at once—I’m afraid that’s more than he can handle.”

Wei Yanxi nodded woodenly as well, “Moreover, if Prince Duan learns that His Highness is secretly pulling such a move…”

Han Zhi raised his hand to interrupt the two of them, his expression still rather ordinary, “His Highness naturally has His Highness’s plans. You needn’t worry about it—just do your own assigned tasks properly.”