Chapter 3: Are You Teaching Me How to Behave?

Filled with misgivings, Lang Jiuchuan arrived at the mourning hall. The moment she stepped into the courtyard, her body swayed, and her spirit felt so fragile it nearly slipped right out of her physical vessel.

A passage of incantations instantly surfaced in her mind. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she forcefully anchored her soul within the flesh.

"You plague-ridden judge," she cursed silently, "claiming I was the perfect fit for this body—bah!"

Lang Jiuchuan glanced toward the corner of the courtyard. A dozen shining, bald heads caught the sunlight, nearly blinding her, while the ceaseless drone of Buddhist chanting pierced her eardrums like demonic shrieks, lashing at her spirit.

After all, this was a soul inhabiting a borrowed corpse—and a broken, incomplete one at that. With both spirit and body compromised, facing these scriptures imbued with golden light was truly a wretched ordeal.

As Lang Jiuchuan silently reinforced her soul-stabilizing spell, her tottering form was caught by Jianlan.

Startled, Jianlan gripped her arm and asked, "Are you alright?"

She looked at Lang Jiuchuan’s complexion in horror and instinctively swallowed hard. The moment she had swayed earlier, her face had turned even more ghastly pale, drained of all blood, looking just like a corpse.

And her hands—her hands were ice cold.

Jianlan’s heart trembled. Could this "Ninth Miss," whose reputation preceded her, really be nothing more than a frail, sickly weakling?

Gritting her teeth, Lang Jiuchuan shook her head and said, "Let’s go in."

Hearing this, Jianlan gripped her arm even tighter, terrified that she might actually collapse.

***

It was well past noon, and there were no more mourners than there had been in the morning. Lang Jiuchuan only encountered a few people.

As she entered the mourning hall, an elderly monk with a gaunt frame among the chanters looked up toward the entrance, his brows knitting slightly.

*What a strange aura.*

As soon as Lang Jiuchuan stepped into the hall, those kneeling on the straw mats in deep mourning garb looked over. Their expressions were startled and unfamiliar, but as someone whispered a few words, their faces shifted into looks of recognition.

*Ah, it’s that ill-omened one from the second branch.*

There were no outsiders in the hall, and many stared at her without inhibition. She looked so incredibly weak, and her face was the same shade as the old master lying in the coffin.

Lang Jiuchuan ignored the gazes fixed upon her and merely glanced at the golden-nanmu coffin carved with the character for "Longevity" leaning against the wall. The Lang family patriarch had already been encoffined, and they were preparing to seal the lid.

"Ninth Miss, please offer incense and kowtow to the old master," said a steward who clearly knew her identity, handing her three sticks of incense.

Lang Jiuchuan did not move for a moment, causing everyone to twitch their eyelids in annoyance.

*How ignorant of decorum.*

*As expected of someone raised in the countryside; she has no manners at all. How dull-witted.*

Jianlan, growing anxious, whispered, "Miss?"

***

Lang Jiuchuan snapped back to reality. To the onlookers, she appeared reluctant as she took the incense, bowed three times toward the coffin, and inserted them into the ash-filled burner before the casket.

Once she had offered the incense, another servant woman gestured for her to approach the coffin to pay her final respects. With a cold, stern tone, the woman said, "Ninth Miss, as a granddaughter who has long failed to return home to serve the elders, you should weep and kowtow loudly to show your filial piety."

Everyone in the room, young and old, were dutiful descendants, all with red, teary eyes. But as for her? Forget red eyes; there wasn't a hint of sorrow on her face.

*Those not raised within the household walls are inevitably cold-hearted.*

Lang Jiuchuan caught the dissatisfaction and contempt in the woman's tone. She narrowed her eyes and looked over.

How ridiculous. She hadn't returned home for a long time—but was that by her own choice?

The Lang family hadn't bothered to bring her back, and when they finally did, it was only to attend a funeral, and even then, they were too late.

The real Lang Jiuchuan was already long dead, her soul vanished to who knows where.

At this thought, a flash of malice leaked from her eyes. It was cold, chilling, and grim.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at the woman and said in a chilling tone, "Is it the Lang family rule that a servant should teach their master how to behave?"