Chapter 1: Returning Home, Unrecognized by Mother

Wujing, the first snow falls in swirling flakes.

Lang Jiuchuan watched the two large white lanterns inscribed with the character for "funeral" swaying violently under the eaves in the north wind, her eyes half-lidded.

The divination did not deceive her.

Someone had truly died.

The deceased was the grandfather of this body, Lang Pu, the Marquis of Kaiping.

"Ninth Miss, please put this on quickly."

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her gaze. A piercing white entered her vision—a set of mourning clothes. As a granddaughter, she naturally had to wear hemp mourning attire for her grandfather.

Heh, exiled when not needed, and summoned back to serve as a grieving granddaughter to see him off when needed.

Seeing her remain motionless for a long time, the maidservant grew impatient. Just as she was about to urge her, the mourning clothes were snatched away. Lang Jiuchuan glanced over; those long, well-defined fingers were the same color as the mourning clothes—pale and lusterless.

Like the hands of a dead person.

Lang Jiuchuan threw the mourning clothes over herself, tied the hemp rope around her waist, and placed the mourning cap on her head. She looked at the maidservant and flashed a gruesome smile: "Do I look filial enough?"

The maidservant’s heart trembled. She instinctively took two steps back, a chill crawling up her spine.

This Ninth Miss had been silent all along, gloomy and devoid of vitality. Now, dressed in white with that pale, ashen face, she looked even more like a ghost.

As expected of an unloved lady; with such a somber, deathly appearance, who could possibly like her?

Lang Jiuchuan saw through the maidservant's thoughts at a glance and let out a cold laugh. Wasn't she a "dead ghost" herself right now?

If a powerful sorcerer were here, they would instantly see through this illusion to the dilapidated body beneath, which had been patched together so miserably.

When this physical shell lay tragically in the mass grave, its tendons were severed, its eye sockets were empty, and a bone was missing from its chest—it was as broken as a rag doll.

And she had been forcibly pressed into this remnant of a body, a soul returning to a corpse, becoming Lang Jiuchuan, the daughter of the Marquis of Kaiping's household.

Thinking about it now, she would have to fight that fellow, the Judge of the Underworld. With a hellish start like this, she wouldn't believe it wasn't a personal vendetta. Otherwise, with so many dead souls in the world, why did they have to give her this extremely broken body?

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her head slightly. A round eyeball fell out; she caught it quickly with her hand and pressed it back into the socket.

Tsk, dog eyes are still not quite suitable for a human body; they fall out at the slightest movement. It really has to be a human eye.

Back then, in the mass grave, a wolfhound whose eyes had been gouged out lay dying atop the pile of corpses, howling mournfully: *To gnaw on corpses all day, only to have one's eyes gouged out by them—what a tragedy!*

Seeing that she was dressed, the maidservant led her toward the side gate. A steward was already walking toward them. Seeing them, he frowned with a dark expression: "Why are you so slow?"

Before the maidservant could respond, Lang Jiuchuan had already brushed past the steward and walked through the gate.

The steward froze, his face darkening even further.

*Raised in the countryside, no manners at all.*

He chased after her.

Lang Jiuchuan walked straight toward the memorial hall, completely ignoring the steward's incessant nagging in her ear. Her divine sense swept through her "dog eyes," taking in the scenery of the Marquis's manor.

As she drew closer to the memorial hall, the low, mournful sounds of Buddhist chanting reached her ears; it was a monk reciting the Sutra of Rebirth during the funeral rites.

"Ninth Miss, this way." The steward blocked her path to the memorial hall and pointed toward the other side.

Lang Jiuchuan glanced at him and walked down that path instead.

The steward broke into a cold sweat.

That single glance had made his heart race with dread.

Entering the small courtyard the steward had indicated, an elderly nanny stood under the corridor. Seeing her, the nanny seemed moved. She stepped forward, gave her a subtle, searching look, and spoke excitedly: "Is it Ninth Miss?"

Lang Jiuchuan did not reply; she simply looked behind the woman. Someone emerged from the house, and their eyes met.

Dressed in heavy mourning clothes, the figure was thin and expressionless, looking at her with very cold eyes.

Lang Jiuchuan's fingers twitched inside her sleeves, and she blinked. This woman... was she her mother?

She felt a subtle, faint connection.

The nanny turned to look at the woman, her voice choking with emotion: "Second Madam, our Ninth Miss has returned home."

The Second Madam of the Marquis of Kaiping's manor, Lang Jiuchuan's biological mother, Lady Cui, looked down at the thin figure standing in the courtyard. She walked over slowly and came to a halt before her.

The nanny stepped forward and said to Lang Jiuchuan, "Ninth Miss, quickly pay your respects to the Madam. This is your mother..."

"You are not my daughter!"

The icy voice abruptly interrupted the nanny.

The nanny's expression changed, her face filled with shock, but she quickly spoke helplessly, "Madam..."

Ignoring her hesitation, Lady Cui stared fixedly at Lang Jiuchuan. With a gaze full of indifference, she repeated: "You are not my daughter!"

It's been a long time. Let's meet again, storyteller!

(End of Chapter)