Chapter Nine: Not Everyone Can Hear Lang Jiu’s Words

Lang Jiuchuan was slapped to the ground. She looked up at the woman who had struck her, pushed her tongue against her cheek, and spat out a mouthful of blood.

She let out a dry, mocking laugh.

A mere slap had sent her sprawling; this body was truly pathetic and frail.

She hauled herself up from the floor, licked the corner of her lip, cast a cold glance at Lady Cui, and walked out.

Lady Cui stood frozen, staring at her own palm, then at the blood on the floor. Her heart felt as though it were being crushed by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe.

That is not my child. She is not.

Lady Cui dug her fingernails deep into her palms, pushed away the nanny’s hand as she reached out to support her, and walked out of the mourning hall with a hollow, drifting gait.

The crowd exchanged glances, their expressions a complex mix of shock, gloating, and intrigue.

Lang Zhengping felt his face burning with shame. To have such a scene unfold in front of outsiders—how could it possibly be anything but disgraceful?

He spoke awkwardly, "Uncle Zhao, I truly apologize for this mess... Shall we move to the reception hall for some tea?"

Elder Zhao shook his head. "I came today to pay my final respects to your father, and that has fulfilled the ties between our two families. You have much to attend to regarding the funeral arrangements, so I will skip the tea. You carry on with your duties; when the funeral procession takes place, our family will set up a roadside memorial."

Lang Zhengping hurriedly expressed his gratitude.

After escorting the grandfather and grandson out of the mourning hall and the estate, they boarded their carriage. Elder Zhao asked, "That young girl just now..."

Lang Zhengping quickly replied, "She is my second brother’s posthumous child. Because she was born prematurely and had a weak constitution, she was sent to a farmstead to be raised; we only just brought her back today. Having not been raised under our direct supervision, she lacks proper manners. She spoke with such wild insolence—as her uncle, I offer my sincerest apologies on her behalf."

As he spoke, he stepped back and performed a deep, formal bow.

Zhao Yuancheng opened his mouth to speak, but after a sharp glance from his grandfather, he fell silent.

Elder Zhao asked, "That child has been raised at the farmstead all this time?"

Lang Zhengping was puzzled by the question but nodded nonetheless.

"Zhengfan died on the battlefield at such a young age. This child must be his only flesh and blood. It is one thing for uncles in another branch of the family to be willing to send her away, but how could her own mother bear it?"

Lang Zhengping caught the note of scrutiny and mockery in the words. Embarrassed, he stammered, "Master Xuanjing of Huguo Temple once said that their horoscopes were incompatible and would bring misfortune to one another, so..."

Elder Zhao remained unconvinced. Regardless of horoscopes, she was still her own flesh and blood. To not show a shred of affection—and to strike her so readily in front of everyone—suggested there was more to it than just an incompatible horoscope.

However, as this was the private business of the Lang family, he felt it improper to pry further. Yet, when he recalled the pair of eyes Lang Jiuchuan possessed—as dark and swirling as a whirlpool in the deep sea—and remembered her words, his heart began to thud erratically.

He even felt a sudden impulse to step out of the carriage and go back to find the girl to demand an explanation.

"You may return now," Elder Zhao said, his fingers tightening. He looked toward the depths of the estate, finally lowered his gaze to conceal the turbulent emotions in his eyes, and dropped the carriage curtain.

Lang Zhengping watched the carriage disappear into the distance, his brow furrowed, before turning and walking briskly back into the estate.

Inside the carriage, Zhao Yuancheng asked in a low voice, "Grandfather, that Lang Jiu was far too insolent. Why did you let her off so easily?"

"If I hadn't let her off, should I, a man of my age, have lowered myself to argue with a young girl? If word got out, people would only criticize the girl for her lack of restraint, but they would just as easily call me, Zhao Lin, petty and lacking in stature," Elder Zhao sighed as he looked at his grandson. "You, you simply lack patience."

Zhao Yuancheng insisted, "Grandson is merely indignant. She went beyond a lack of restraint; she was cursing you, Grandfather. I cannot simply remain indifferent."

"Then have you considered why a young girl would say such a thing?"

"What thing?"

"Saving those who should not be saved."

Zhao Yuancheng looked bewildered. "Did she say that? What does 'saving those who should not be saved' mean?"

Elder Zhao’s hand trembled, his face filled with shock. He hadn't heard her?