Chapter 4: Ninth Miss, Born Rebellious
Chapter 4: Ninth Miss, Born Rebellious
A voice, colder than the drifting snow outside, cut through the hall with biting mockery. The whispers scattered at once, silenced, as every gaze snapped toward the figure radiating an aura of chilling frost.
The maidservant froze under that glance. Her hand, just about to lift the shroud from the Old Marquis’s face, went rigid. Her complexion turned pale, legs trembling weakly. Yet when she focused on Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes again—there was nothing there.
Only indifference.
But how? Just now she had clearly seen a flash of gold—pupils narrowing like a serpent’s, cold and merciless.
Did her eyes deceive her?
The maid opened her mouth, forgetting all sense of propriety. “I…”
Lang Jiuchuan laughed—a sharp, hollow sound. Her not-quite-smiling gaze swept over the assembled Lang clan.
The Lang family members flushed with rage. That one sentence of hers—was it aimed only at the servant? No, she had mocked the entire Lang family together.
The older ones kept their composure though their faces had darkened; the younger ones were already leaping up in anger.
What did she mean by that? Wasn’t it saying the Lang clan was useless, letting mere servants trample over them?
Lang Jiuchuan took in every flicker of their expressions, a sneer tugging at her lips. So what if she cursed them? Since stepping foot in this manor, had a single blood relative stepped forward to guide her on how to fulfill her filial duties?
Not one.
If they wished a servant to direct her, then fine—replace her with one who knew proper etiquette. If not, they had no right to expect her obedience.
Shamed?
They had brought it upon themselves.
What did it matter to her?
“In front of Grandfather’s spirit, you dare behave so rudely!” A stern voice cut across. A young man in mourning garb strode in, his handsome face lined with fatigue, eyes sharp. He lashed out at the servant: “Disrespecting your master? Twenty boards! Men, drag her out!”
The maid collapsed to the floor, shaking violently. “Young Master, mercy—!”
Before her pleas finished, a steward gagged her with a cloth and hauled her swiftly away.
Only then did the direct grandson of the First Branch, Lang Caimeng, turn to look at Lang Jiuchuan. His brows knit together. Hadn’t Second Uncle’s daughter, raised in the countryside estate, been described as meek and docile? Why did she appear so filled with defiance?
“Ninth…sister, I am your elder brother,” he began, then looked toward a young woman in the hall and added, “Wan Fang, bring our Ninth sister to meet the family and teach her how things are done.”
When Wu Shi stepped forward, Lang Caimeng continued, “This is your sister-in-law. You’ve lived at the manor so long without returning; let her help you get to know the family.”
Though he was her cousin, he was still a man — some matters were better handled by his wife, who tended the inner quarters.
Because she’d been keeping vigil, Wu Shi looked haggard. She tugged at the corner of her mouth and said to the newcomer, “Ninth sister, why don’t you first pay your respects to Grandfather’s remains?”
Lang Jiuchuan was indifferent. Before she could even take in the Old Marquis’s face properly, Wu Shi had already seized her arm and forced her to kneel.
Crack.
A sharp sound came from her knee. Pain contorted her face; tears sprang to her eyes.
This body truly was brittle.
Wu Shi, however, did not seem to notice. “Bow and weep properly,” she murmured.
Lang Jiuchuan: “…”
Weep was impossible; bowing she did only under Wu Shi’s pressure — three small knocks.
Wu Shi then pulled her to her feet, eyes red, and led her along the rows where the Lang clan knelt, introducing each person.
The Lang clan still had many descendants — men and women filling the hall. Elders had brought younger kin to receive mourners; men and women had different duties. Some younger family members were attending the Old Madam.
There was little small talk while the vigil continued; faces were acknowledged with a nod and then attention turned elsewhere. Only one woman — striking, arrogant, and scornful — glared at Lang Jiuchuan and coldly snorted, “You come back and make such a disturbance before Grandfather’s spirit — what a great lack of filial piety. Ninth sister, reflect on yourself.”
Lang Jiuchuan looked toward her. Judging by Wu Shi’s tight, pained expression when introducing her, this must be the First Branch’s concubine-born daughter, Lang Cailing.
Seeing Cailing’s imperious posture, Lang Jiuchuan couldn’t help the bitter amusement: a concubine-born daughter so full of dominance — perhaps even more forceful than the second-branch’s sole heir.
She lowered her eyes and, turning to Lang Caimeng with a deliberately rebellious grin, said, “Eldest brother, there’s another person acting insolently before Grandfather’s spirit — shall we have her dragged out for a round of boards too?”
Silence fell.
The room echoed with puzzled looks: “?”
Who was she calling “eldest brother”?
Lang Caimeng’s head ached. He hadn’t been wrong — this cousin really was born rebellious.