Chapter 17: This Day Is Utterly Dead

 Chapter 17: This Day Is Utterly Dead

The world all knew: paper effigies for funerals were made from bamboo strips and paper, crafted by skilled hands at funeral shops until they looked almost lifelike. Like the pile of offerings waiting to be burned before their eyes now—each one delicate, exquisite.

Thus, ordinary paper effigies should never contain anything other than bamboo and paper. But who could explain why, when Lang Jiuchuan smashed the paper child’s foot in a fit of madness, a piece of something black, ominous, and wholly out of place was found inside?

A finger bone?

Outside, the northern wind howled. Suddenly—bang!—a gust knocked down one of the tall white mourning banners, startling the younger girls into shrieks. They hid behind the adults, trembling.

The womenfolk, too, were afraid.

Especially since the Grandfather’s coffin was still in the mourning hall, yet to be sealed. From nearby, they could still see his pallid, withered face beneath the wind-lifted mourning cloth—ghastly, terrifying.

Though he was their Grandfather, and of course would not rise to harm them, in such a scene, in such an atmosphere—who would not feel dread?

Lang Jiuchuan tossed the blood-stained finger bone at Lang Zhengping. Instinctively, he caught it.

The bone was icy cold in his palm. He shuddered, and realizing what it was, nearly threw it away—but with effort restrained himself.

“What is this thing? Why would it appear here…?”

Offerings meant to be burned for the ancestors—yet such an unknown and sinister object had been hidden among them. Everyone knew this was no good sign.

“A child’s finger bone, carved with runes and soaked in human blood. A vessel of yin and malice,” Lang Jiuchuan said, resuming her seat before the spirit-offering brazier. “Since it’s settled, all of you can go rest. I’ll keep vigil.”

With only herself left here, the merit of guarding the spirit need not be shared with the Lang family. Heehee—what a clever girl I am!

The others watched as she actually tossed paper money into the brazier, assuming the posture of a mourner on duty. Their lips twitched.

Guarding the spirit—was that really the issue now? And that finger bone—she mentioned it but gave no details, dangling the matter like some storyteller’s hook. Did she want heaven’s thunder to strike her?

Even Lang Zhengping, as the new head of the household, could barely contain himself. He wanted to hurl the bone back at her and roar, If you know, then explain it fully, not half-baked like this!

“Jiuniang, how did you know this thing was hidden in the paper effigy?” Lang Zhengping narrowed his eyes.

Without lifting her head, Lang Jiuchuan replied, “If I said a ghost told me, would you believe it?”

“…”

What sort of answer was that?

“This is no trivial matter—can’t you speak seriously?” Cui Shi pressed, her anger tightly reined.

Lang Jiuchuan paused, then looked up. “If it’s no trivial matter, why don’t you investigate? Why ask me? What now, the mighty Marquisate can’t even support one little girl, let alone spare the effort to find out who placed this thing in our ancestor’s offerings?”

The others seethed.

Listen to her! Enough to infuriate someone to death. What did she mean by can’t support her?

Though the Lang household was far from the wealth and splendor of its forebears, even a rotting ship still has three pounds of nails.

Yet no one dared rebuke her at this moment. Especially when they saw Cui Shi’s frosty face—who would risk making a sound?

Clearly, this was Jiuchuan’s way of venting her resentment toward the Madam of the house.

Lang Zhengping’s head throbbed. This niece of his wasn’t just rebellious; she was covered in thorns, stabbing others at the slightest word.

He glanced at Cui Shi, then at his own wife, and finally at his eldest daughter-in-law, Wu Shi, signaling her with his eyes.

You handle her—you’re the only one she’ll talk to.

Wu Shi’s heart quivered, but at her father-in-law’s silent order, she stepped forward. She dropped a slip of paper money into the brazier and, with a tremor in her voice, asked, “Ninth Sister, if that cursed object had remained hidden in the paper child… what would have happened?”

Everyone perked up their ears.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “What would have happened? Have not the three of them already shown you? Such things are vessels of malice, attracting spirits and misfortune. Whoever is tainted by them—well, you all know the consequences better than a country girl like me needs to explain.”

What grand household had not prayed to gods and deities? Even if they scorned ghosts and spirits, the women of the inner quarters certainly believed. They all knew—or at least had heard—what happened when someone brushed against unclean things.

Even if they hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t Lang Caize’s episode just now fully demonstrated what it meant to be plagued by evil influence?

Feeling all eyes on him, Lang Caize: “…”

He very much wished not to be made an example.

Lady Wu swallowed and asked again, “But how did you notice it…?”

“Maybe a ghost possessed me!” Lang Jiuchuan sighed. “Otherwise, how could a mere village girl like me have such abilities? Surely you don’t take me for some master, versed in heaven’s stars and earth’s mysteries, all-knowing, all-powerful?”

That was it—the day was dead. Utterly dead in conversation.

The entire hall swelled with anger like blowfish.

Never had words alone made them want to throttle someone so badly.

Lang Zhengping looked at her slouched posture, knowing he could extract nothing further. Truly, she was but a girl not yet of age—how great could her skills be? To spot something amiss with the paper child, likely she had seen much of such things in the countryside, and so noticed a detail others missed.

His gaze flicked toward his father’s coffin. Guilt surged within him. No matter what, for the offerings meant for his father’s use in the underworld to be corrupted like this—it was his fault, his neglect, the eldest son’s unfilial failing.

“Ninth Sister, what is meant by ‘enlivening the paper effigy’?” Lang Caicheng asked, his voice trembling.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at the paper child. “Just as the words say—giving life to a dead object. The eyes of a paper figure are not drawn at random. To dot them is to make it live.”

All turned to the row of effigies. Their painted eyes were so vivid, it was as if they stared back.

“What, you genteel city folk didn’t know? Paper figures should never have eyes painted or dotted. Even children in the village know this,” Lang Jiuchuan said in mock astonishment.

Everyone: “…”

Whether they knew or not was one matter—but her mocking tone was truly unbearable.

“That’s enough. Disperse. Third Brother, you stay and keep watch…” Lang Zhengping’s head throbbed at the sight of everyone’s simmering tempers. To disturb their father’s rest further would be unfilial indeed.

But Lang Jiuchuan grew anxious. “No need. I’ll stay. The yin energy here hasn’t dispersed. If you linger, it’ll seep into your bodies—you’ll fall ill, or worse.”

That remark nearly made someone faint from rage.

Relying on numbers, Lang Cailing jabbed a finger at her and cursed, “How vile you are! You speak ill of strangers, but even curse your own kin?”

Lang Jiuchuan sneered. “Kindness treated as a dog’s lung, is it? Fine. Stay if you want. Don’t blame me for not warning you.”

She pulled the brazier close to her crossed legs and said no more.

That very attitude made the others more uneasy.

Still, Lang Zhengping ordered Third Brother and two young men to remain. The mourning hall could not be left without male presence. As for Lang Jiuchuan’s words—he dismissed them as nonsense.

Once outside, the wind chilled them to the bone.

“Wait… how does she even know these dark arts?”

“Who knows? Perhaps country banquets taught her. Maybe she’s seen too much, and her courage grew. Perhaps she’s even burned offerings herself.”

Cui Shi’s eyes swept coldly toward the whisperers. They hunched their necks, silent.

Lang Zhengping, meanwhile, summoned his trusted steward to investigate the paper effigies. As he glanced at the courtyard’s mourning banners, Lang Jiuchuan’s words echoed in his mind—along with what she’d once told Elder Zhao. His heart chilled.