Chapter Thirty-Two: Pretending Deafness and Silence for Over a Decade

Cui suffered a sudden bout of angina. Lang Jiuchuan was not overly concerned at first, but she could not withstand the incessant chattering of Jiang Che.

"You’ll be struck by lightning for making your old mother so angry. Besides, you’re only borrowing this body; if you keep acting like this, you’ll lose your merit," Jiang Che remarked coldly.

Lose merit? That was absolutely out of the question!

Seeing Cui’s face turn pale and her gasping for breath, Lang Jiuchuan walked over without a word. She took hold of Cui’s right wrist, pressing her thumb firmly into the Neiguan acupoint, massaging from light to heavy pressure. Then, she casually plucked one of Jiang Che’s "hairs," transformed it into a needle, and inserted it into the point. The hair-needle turned into an intangible force, surging up from the wrist to soothe the aching organ.

Jiang Che was astonished. How could she simply pluck its spiritual essence like that?

Cui’s heart had felt as if it were being violently twisted by an invisible hand, but Lang Jiuchuan’s swift sequence of actions startled her so much that she even stopped clutching her chest, staring at the girl in bewilderment.

"The medicine is here." Jianlan held an exquisite jade bottle. She uncorked it, quickly poured out a heart-relief pill, and supported by a handkerchief, brought it to Cui’s lips. Molan, who had followed, offered warm water to help her swallow it.

Cui suddenly felt the pain subside; she swallowed the pill almost on instinct.

Lang Jiuchuan had already retreated to the side. Her brows furrowed as she scrutinized Cui’s features, but she found them obscured, which stirred her suspicions. In the study of physiognomy, one cannot divine the fate of oneself or one’s closest blood relatives; to do so forcibly invites a backlash. If she could not determine Cui’s lifespan, it meant they were indeed blood-related.

So, what kind of hysteria had possessed Cui to make her unable to even recognize her own daughter?

Lang Jiuchuan’s expression was grim. She stood in silence, which Nurse Cheng mistook for continued stubbornness. The nurse hurriedly pulled her aside, whispering, "Ninth Miss, please return to your quarters. Don’t say such harsh things anymore. The Mistress suffers from angina—anger is bad for her health. Sigh, you are all family, why must it be like this?"

Lang Jiuchuan said nothing. She gave a slight nod and turned to leave.

Seeing this, Nurse Cheng’s headache worsened. She turned to Cui, intending to smooth things over, but Cui spoke first.

"Jianlan, go and attend to her." Cui rubbed her own wrist and looked at Nurse Cheng, instructing, "What happened just now must not spread. Tell the others to keep their mouths shut."

Nurse Cheng quickly complied.

This was certainly not to be shared, for if the reputation of being unfilial and nearly causing her mother’s death were pinned on Lang Jiuchuan, the gossip alone would drown her.

"How are you feeling? We should still have the estate physician take your pulse," Nurse Cheng said, her face full of concern. "If you’re still not well, we could return to the Cui family manor..."

Cui cast a sharp, displeased glance her way.

Nurse Cheng paused, sighed, and said, "I will help you inside to rest, then. We shall feel more at ease once the physician has checked your pulse."

Cui nodded but instructed Molan, "There is no need to call the physician. He was just here, and he is likely busy in the other courtyards. I am quite alright."

Since the funeral, many had been unwell. She herself had collapsed from a chill, and she could not monopolize the physician and invite criticism.

"But you..."

Cui stood up, touching her wrist. "I am truly fine. It doesn’t hurt at all."

She did not know if it was the medicine or a psychological effect, but the moment Lang Jiuchuan had gripped her wrist and massaged the Neiguan point, the angina seemed to vanish. Her mind was clear now, and she recalled that when Lang Jiuchuan massaged her, a warmth had surged into her heart, bringing immense comfort.

Back in bed, Nurse Cheng tucked a soft cushion behind her waist, signaled for Molan to bring attendants, and bustled about, placing a warming stone in the bedclothes, tucking in the corners, and bringing over freshly brewed decoction.

When Cui smelled the bitter medicine, she frowned in resistance.

Nurse Cheng stood before her with a dish of candied fruit, coaxing, "The funeral was exhausting, and catching a cold is even more taxing. If you don’t drink the medicine, how can you recover? With the New Year only a month away, do you wish to be drinking this bitter brew during the festivities?"

Cui took the bowl and drank it in one breath. The bitterness permeated her mouth, leaving even her heart feeling bitter. Seeing Nurse Cheng offer a piece of candied fruit on a silver fork, she opened her mouth and took it without a second thought.

Nurse Cheng watched her expression and said, "Mistress, the Ninth Miss has returned home. It is not right to send her back to live on the estate alone, especially now that she is approaching her coming-of-age. You have feigned ignorance for over a decade—you cannot do it forever. She is the only flesh and blood left to you and the Master."

Cui’s face darkened. "Was it I who would not let her stay? You heard what she said—it was she who wanted to leave."

Nurse Cheng sighed. "My dear, she is only a child, a young girl. You were displeased with her from birth and banished her to the estate for fourteen years. If you were in her place, would you not harbor resentment?"

She used the address "Jie'er," just as they had when Cui was a girl in her maiden home; it was a heartfelt plea.

Cui stiffened, her lips pressed together.

"I am your wet nurse. I raised you—can you not trust me? When you were in labor, I was there the entire time, never once looking away. And the others, like Hongju, were the most trustworthy of us all. There was no one who could have played any tricks or swapped the child. Why must you insist she is not your own? May I be so bold as to ask: is it possible that you are suffering from this hysteria because you miss the Master too much?"

Cui’s face turned deathly white, her lips trembling. "What if even you were mistaken?"

"If I were mistaken, could everyone else be mistaken as well?" Nurse Cheng asked, looking at her. "What evidence do you have that she is not the one you gave birth to? It wasn’t obvious when she was small, but now she resembles you as you were in your youth. As for her temperament, I fear she takes after the Master. No, she takes after you in one way—she is just as stubborn."

Cui fell silent, her fingers tracing her wrist, where the lingering warmth of Lang Jiuchuan’s touch seemed to remain.

So, was she truly wrong?

Cui closed her eyes. Vague images flashed through her mind: purple-red energy filling the room, the wails of an infant piercing the sky. She strained to open her eyes, and someone held the child out for her to see. She had seen...

Was she simply too exhausted, her vision blurred? Or was it something else? If the former, how could she ever repay the debt of abandoning her daughter all these years?

Tears rolled down her cheeks, falling onto her wrist. Cui took a deep breath, looked at Nurse Cheng, and signaled for her to lean in. "Nurse, go and tell Jianlan to..."

As Nurse Cheng listened, her pupils contracted slightly. Was this the basis for her years of conviction?

"And if it is not there?"

Cui remained silent for a long time, masking the exhaustion in her eyes. "If it is not there, then it is heaven’s will. As for the adoption, let them have their way."