Chapter 20: Calamity upon the Lang Family’s Feng Shui is to Cut Off Her Path of Survival

 Chapter 20: Calamity upon the Lang Family’s Feng Shui is to Cut Off Her Path of Survival

So-called “sealing the coffin” means placing the lid upon the coffin. Once sealed, it must not be opened again, and thus the moment before the lid is set is truly the final farewell to the deceased.

Yet even sealing the coffin has its taboos. On this day, those whose zodiac signs clashed with the deceased’s birth chart were required to avoid the rite, as were pregnant women to prevent being struck by ill fortune. Therefore, not all of the Lang family members were present. At the very least, Lang Jiuchuan did not see the fourth young madam of the eldest branch, nor the aunt of the third branch, nor one of her cousins.

Within the mourning hall, the Daoist priest in ritual robes was already proceeding according to custom. By the time Lang Jiuchuan entered, most of the Lang family had gathered, and many eyes fell upon her.

“At the time to show filial piety, she shirked her duty, hid away for a day and a night without appearing, and now the entire family waits upon her alone.” Lang Cailing muttered under her breath.

Lang Caiyao whispered: “Seventh Sister, all the elders are here—say a little less.”

Lang Cailing gave a cold snort, curled her lips, and cast a glare at Lang Jiuchuan. Her gaze then fell upon the object hanging at Lang Jiuchuan’s waist. What sort of thing was that? Dark and dim, like some bell dug out of a grave pit.

How rustic.

“Ninth Sister, come over here.” Wu Shi beckoned toward Lang Jiuchuan.

Lang Jiuchuan, of her own accord, stood among the row of grandchildren, watching with interest as the Daoist priest shook his ritual bell.

The chanting of scriptures filled the air without cease.

Yet compared with her first arrival—when hearing the scriptures had left her spirit battered as though hammered to the point of departure—now, with the treasure weighing upon her, all such discomfort was entirely absent.

Indeed, this object prospers me.

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her hand to toy with the Imperial Bell at her waist, inwardly satisfied.

Her fingers suddenly stilled upon the bell, and her gaze sharpened like blades as they fell upon the Daoist priest’s hand. Her eyes narrowed.

How curious. A Daoist priest whose profession was conducting funerary rites—yet openly wielding an object steeped in Yin baleful energy. Was this to deceive the ignorant, or was his skill bold enough to dare such a display?

Whichever it was, it had but one purpose: this whiskered Daoist had come to stir trouble.

But who had the Lang family offended, that even in mourning they should not be spared, and a trap laid to curse them?

This, indeed, was a play worth watching.

As Lang Jiuchuan watched his movements, she sensed something amiss. Just as she beheld the faint glow of the Lang family’s meager merit dodging the Yin energy, her mind jolted like thunder.

No, something was wrong. She was now a daughter of the Lang family. To use this Yin object against the Old Marquis in his coffin—once the spirit was carried to the ancestral tomb, in time the family’s Feng Shui would be corroded. Then how could it protect and bless the descendants? Sooner or later, disaster would come. Heavy, it would mean death and injury; light, misfortune upon misfortune. Though even in death she might return to the underworld to wreak havoc again, why should she suffer dying time and again?

The rise of one is the rise of all, the fall of one is the fall of all.

This person sought to sever her path of siphoning merit!

At this thought, Lang Jiuchuan’s face grew cold, her entire body exuding a frost like winter’s ice, so chilling that Wu Shi beside her shivered involuntarily.

The day grows ever colder.

“Filth dispelled, nine orifices receive the soul, the ancestor transcends, all become immortals, mortals turn away.” The Daoist shook his bell, pressed a yellow talisman upon the Old Marquis’s brow, then bade the Lang family turn their backs. The meaning was to sever yearning, lest attachment hinder the departed’s passage.

No one objected. All turned away—save Lang Jiuchuan, who stood unmoving.

“Ninth Sister.” Wu Shi hastily tugged at her sleeve.

At the front, Lang Zhengping noticed, his eyelid twitching. At the critical moment of sealing the coffin, was this girl about to cause another disturbance?

Cui Shi’s brows rose, lips moving in warning.

Do not make trouble.

Yet Lang Jiuchuan acted as though she had not seen, and under the astonished gazes of the family, she stepped forth.

Lang Cailing started in fright, whispering: “What are you doing? Get back here—this is no time for your antics.”

She even reached out to seize Lang Jiuchuan. This mad girl—even madness must heed occasion! At such a moment, if she still dared to make a scene, even as the only child of the second branch, her father would drive her to kneel in the ancestral hall for seven days and seven nights.

No—her father need not even act. Second Aunt would surely punish her harshly.

Lang Jiuchuan slipped past Lang Cailing’s hand and walked straight toward the Daoist. As she passed among the elders, Cui Shi seized her hand.

Cui Shi gripped her wrist and pulled sharply. “What are you doing? Behave yourself.”

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her gaze to that hand. With a slight twist, she freed herself, then looked toward Lang Zhengping, who was glaring at her, and said:

“That Daoist—there is a problem.”

Her voice was cold, like a blade, piercing Lang Zhengping’s ear.

What did that mean—that the Daoist was suspicious?

Lang Zhengping instantly turned. The Daoist was stooped within the coffin, pressing talismans. Perceiving something, he turned his head, panic flashing for an instant before returning to calm. He straightened, brows furrowed.

“Was it not said—do not disturb the departed? Good men must not look back, lest the soul linger unwilling.” The Daoist’s face was stern.

Seeing this, Lang Zhengping instinctively moved to bow in apology. But Lang Jiuchuan strode forward.

The Daoist’s eyelids twitched.

Cui Shi hurried after, blocking her. “Whatever nonsense you may have picked up in the village, this is not the place to flaunt it. If you will not stay here properly, return to your room.”

She was but a child—what did she know of funeral rites?

At those cold words, an inexplicable fury rose in Lang Jiuchuan’s chest. Her voice was equally cold: “I believe you now—you truly are not my mother.”

Cui Shi’s hand stiffened, pupils contracting, emotions surging in her gaze.

Lang Jiuchuan continued: “Even if I am not the daughter you wished for, I have not done you any heinous wrong. More than ten years apart, yet you treat a young girl with such baseless disdain and indifference—is that not excessive, Second Madam Lang?”

Whether or not the original soul was her daughter, Cui Shi’s response was too cold, too severe. What crime had the girl committed? Had she slaughtered Cui Shi’s kin, or stolen away the place of a beloved daughter? Even if it were the latter—even if treated as a cast-off—what noble favor had she truly received? Were not the ten years of exile without a trace of her mother’s care punishment enough?

Cui Shi’s face turned white as snow. Her frail body swayed unsteadily.

Lang Jiuchuan paid her no more heed. Were it not for her weak body still relying on scraps of the Lang family’s merit for patchwork, she would not even bother with this matter.

Moreover, if she could partake of this merit, then on what grounds did Cui Shi say she was not of the Lang family?

Such shortsightedness!

No, this anger could not be suppressed. With her frail body, pent-up rage was injurious.

Perhaps startled by Lang Jiuchuan’s approach, the Daoist’s hand faltered. Suddenly he flicked his whisk and cried out:

“Filial sons and virtuous grandsons, kneel! Three kowtows! Seal the coffin!”

At once, two young Daoist acolytes with hair tied in cloth knots lifted the coffin lid to press it down.

“In such haste—if that is not self-betrayal, what is?”

Lang Jiuchuan snatched up a mourning staff, spun upon her heel, and struck hard toward the nearest acolyte at the coffin’s end.

(End of Chapter)