Chapter 9: Lang Jiu's words are not meant for everyone to hear

Lang Jiuchuan was slapped to the ground. She looked up at the person who had struck her, pushed her tongue against her cheek, and spat out a mouthful of bloody froth with a "pfft."

She was laughing out of sheer anger.

A mere slap had knocked her down; this body was truly fragile enough.

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

Lady Cui stared blankly at her own palm, then at the splatter of blood on the ground. Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it difficult to breathe.

That wasn't my child. She isn't.

Lady Cui dug her nails deep into her palms, avoiding the nanny's attempt to assist her, and walked out of the memorial hall with unsteady steps.

The crowd looked at one another with complex expressions—some were shocked and stunned, some were gloating, and others looked intrigued; their faces showed a wide variety of emotions.

Lang Zhengping felt his face burning with heat. To have such a scene unfold in front of outsiders—how could it possibly look good?

He spoke up awkwardly, "Uncle Zhao, this whole situation is truly... shall we move to the flower hall for some tea?"

Old Mr. Zhao shook his head and said, "Coming here today was merely to see your father off, which fulfills the bond between our two families. Funeral arrangements are already troublesome enough, so I will pass on the tea. You attend to your business; when your father's funeral takes place, our family will also hold a roadside memorial."

Lang Zhengping hurriedly bowed in thanks.

After accompanying the grandparents out of the memorial hall, out of the manor, and onto the carriage, Old Mr. Zhao asked Lang Zhengping, "That young girl just now..."

Lang Zhengping quickly interjected, "That is my second brother's posthumous child. Because she was a premature baby and in poor health, she was sent to the manor to be raised, and was only brought back today. Since the child hasn't been raised by our side since she was small, she lacks proper etiquette. She spoke quite recklessly; as her eldest uncle, I apologize to you on her behalf."

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

Zhao Yuancheng wanted to speak, but after receiving a glance from his grandfather, he shut his mouth.

Old Mr. Zhao asked, "That child has been raised in the manor all this time?"

Lang Zhengping was somewhat puzzled by the question, but he still nodded.

"Zhengfan died young on the battlefield. This child is his only flesh and blood, is she not? It might be understandable for your distant uncles to send her to a manor to be raised, but would a mother be able to part with her so easily?"

Sensing the scrutiny and mockery in the words, Lang Zhengping felt embarrassed and stammered, "Master Xuanjing of Huguo Temple once said that their eight characters and zodiac signs are in conflict, so..."

Old Mr. Zhao was somewhat unconvinced. No matter how much their fates conflicted, she was still flesh and blood from his own body. Not to mention she was his only child; for a mother to show no heartache and strike her so readily, and in front of everyone—

There was likely more to it than just conflicting zodiac signs.

However, this was a family matter of the Langs, and it was not his place to pry too deeply. Yet, when he thought of Lang Jiuchuan's eyes—dark and deep like a whirlpool at the bottom of the sea—and recalled her words, his heart began to thud erratically.

He even felt an impulse to get off the carriage and find the girl to demand an explanation.

"Go back." Old Mr. Zhao clenched his fists and looked toward the depths of the estate. Ultimately, he lowered his eyes to hide the surging emotions within and lowered the carriage curtain.

Watching the carriage drive away, Lang Zhengping frowned, turned, and walked briskly back into the manor.

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 didn't let her off, could I, at an age where I could be her grandfather, argue with her? If word got out, others would only say the young girl was tactless and immature; wouldn't they mostly say that I, Zhao Lin, was petty and lacked dignity?" Old Mr. Zhao looked at his grandson and sighed, "You, you simply lack composure."

Zhao Yuancheng said, "Grandson is merely unable to suppress his anger. That wasn't just being tactless; she was cursing you, Grandfather. Forgive me, but I cannot remain indifferent."

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

"What things?"

"About 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?"

Old Mr. Zhao's hand trembled, his face filled with horror. Had he not heard it?

(End of Chapter)