Chapter 2: A Suspicious Birth

 Chapter 2: A Suspicious Birth

“You are not my daughter!”

That icy voice, mingling with the falling first snow, cut even colder.

Lang Jiuchuan’s heart tightened. Instinctively, she searched Cui Shi’s eyes. Could mother and daughter truly share such a bond—that with just one glance, she could see through her as someone reborn in another’s body?

No… not quite.

There was no fear or doubt in Cui Shi’s eyes. Only determination. Obsession. And buried within—disgust, agitation, even grievance?

For a mother, her gaze was far too complicated.

Lang Jiuchuan could not understand, but—if she said she was not, then so be it. After all, she truly wasn’t. So she replied, calmly and faintly:

“Oh.”

Cui Shi froze.

The matron beside her grew anxious, scolding inwardly, and quickly told a maid: “Jianlan, take Ninth Miss to the mourning hall first.”

Jianlan immediately stepped forward, giving a small curtsy. “Miss, please follow this servant.”

Without a trace of reluctance, Lang Jiuchuan turned and followed her out through the moon gate of the small courtyard. As she left, the matron’s voice floated back on the cold wind:

“Madam, more than ten years have passed. The young miss is nearly of age now. Why must you persist in this?”

Cui Shi said nothing. She only stared at the fading figure of Lang Jiuchuan, frowning, one hand pressing against her chest, as if to smother the strange unease welling inside.

It felt as though something had been lost.

On the path toward the mourning hall, Lang Jiuchuan remained unsettled. From Cui Shi’s loathing expression—was it truly mere dislike? Or had she somehow glimpsed the truth, that this was not her daughter’s soul?

And yet, Lang Jiuchuan clearly felt a subtle bond between them.

Too bad. When she took over this body, the original soul had not only died wretchedly but was obliterated altogether. She had been left with no memories at all.

Still, this vessel certainly belonged to the Lang family’s Ninth Miss—the underworld lord himself had confirmed it.

“Miss, please don’t take it to heart. Madam has had a hard life these years.” Jianlan noticed the cold gloom weighing on her face, and after a few stolen glances, she finally forced herself to speak with a dry tone: “You’ve only just returned home. In time, all will be well.”

Lang Jiuchuan looked her over. Eighteen or nineteen, steady and composed—clearly one of Cui Shi’s trusted first maids.

Her thoughts shifted. She asked: “Why did she say that?”

Jianlan’s expression turned awkward. She had served in Xi Zhao Courtyard for ten years, rising from a mere errand girl to a first-class maid, managing Cui Shi’s clothing and jewelry. From her very first day in service, the older women had warned her repeatedly: never mention Ninth Miss, especially not before Madam.

Strange, was it not? Ninth Miss was the only daughter of the Second Branch, the only flesh and blood left of the Second Master. Instead of cherishing her, they acted as if her very name was taboo.

With time, Jianlan pieced together whispers. They said Cui Shi detested her daughter because the child had been born just as the Second Master died on the battlefield. A cursed omen.

But Jianlan’s cousin—once Cui Shi’s chief maid—had told her otherwise. Madam had been driven mad by grief, and in her delirium insisted the girl was not her own. More than once she had even tried to smother the infant. Only by the Old Madam’s decree was the child sent away to a manor, spared from a mother’s hand.

Yet now, after more than ten years, Cui Shi still clung to this belief. Though Ninth Miss even bore a resemblance to her—how could she not be hers?

It seemed Madam had lived in widowhood too long, unable to awaken from her delusion.

Jianlan forced a weak smile, replying vaguely: “You’ve been away from the estate so long, things feel unfamiliar. And Madam has been sleepless these days, exhausted by her duties at the mourning hall.”

Her evasive words did not impress Lang Jiuchuan.

But since Jianlan refused to speak plainly, she let it be. Truth would come out in time. For now, she was merely curious.

Could a mother truly hate her own child so deeply, to the point of sending her away and nearly killing her?