Chapter 24: Lang Jiu’s Cursed Tongue Truly Killed a Man

 

Chapter 24: Lang Jiu’s Cursed Tongue Truly Killed a Man

The raucous noise, just as the Lang family had barely begun to relax, made them tense all over again. All turned to look at the figure charging in like a madman.

And once they clearly saw his face and the mourning garb he wore, everyone froze stiff. Good heavens, dead memories were being dragged back to life.

You won’t live three days!

That lunatic Lang Jiuchuan had cursed the Zhao family’s Old Master so only two days ago. And now, before three days had passed, here came the grandson, dressed in pure white mourning clothes.

What kind of living person wears full mourning dress? To wear it meant only one thing—that someone in the household had been taken away by Lord Yama.

As for who in the Zhao family had gone, they were two hundred percent sure it was the old master. Otherwise, Zhao Yuancheng wouldn’t be looking as if he wanted to swallow Lang Jiuchuan whole.

The Lang family found themselves utterly exhausted from this funeral vigil. One storm after another, and every single one had Lang Jiuchuan’s shadow in it.

Someone muttered under their breath: “She really is a proper stirrer of filth.”

Zhao Yuancheng had already spotted Lang Jiuchuan—that frail girl standing alone in a corner, utterly out of place amid the gathered Langs. Seemingly inconspicuous, yet impossible to ignore.

His eyes were bloodshot. Through clenched teeth he forced out two words:

“Lang Jiu.”

She was looking at him, her expression indifferent. Even with him clad in deep mourning, she did not show the least bit of astonishment, let alone surprise.

She had already known.

That cold, knowing look stabbed at Zhao Yuancheng’s heart, and he charged forward.

Cui Shi’s heart leapt into her throat. She instinctively took two steps forward, but a figure had already stepped in front of Lang Jiuchuan.

“Brother Zhao, let us speak calmly. Today is the day of my grandfather’s sealing of the coffin.” Lang Caimeng stood between them, giving Zhao Yuancheng a polite cupped-hand salute. Yet, when his eyes fell upon that white mourning garb, he hesitated, words sticking in his throat.

Zhao Yuancheng ground his teeth. “Step aside.”

How could Lang Caimeng dare? With the other’s furious stance, if given a blade, he feared Zhao Yuancheng would hack Lang Jiuchuan into nine pieces.

By now Lang Zhengping had also come over. Seeing Zhao Yuancheng’s mourning clothes, his shock was no less than when he had witnessed that venomous needle pulled from his own father’s head earlier.

“Yuan­cheng, this mourning garb…”

Zhao Yuancheng’s throat bobbed. His gaze locked past Lang Caimeng’s shoulder, straight on Lang Jiuchuan. His voice choked: “Grandfather… my grandfather passed away this morning.”

Everyone: “!”

The hearts they’d been holding aloft finally died.

Just as she had cursed.

Feeling all eyes upon her, Lang Jiuchuan brushed past Lang Caimeng to face Zhao Yuancheng directly. “You’ve come for me. What is it you want?”

“It was you who cursed my grandfather to death!” Zhao Yuancheng’s eyes blazed red, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.

“Zhao Yuancheng!”

A thunderous shout jarred everyone awake.

Lang Zhengping hurriedly stepped forward. That was Zhao Yuancheng’s father, Zhao Kun, current Vice Minister of Justice, also clad in heavy mourning. He raised both hands in a formal salute and addressed Lang Zhengping by his courtesy name: “Brother Qining.”

Zhao Kun returned the courtesy. “My son has been rude. I beg your pardon, dear brother.”

Lang Zhengping shook his head quickly, anxiously asking: “Just now Yuan­cheng said that Uncle…?”

“This morning, when the servants went to rouse him, they found the old man had already departed for immortality.” Zhao Kun forced a smile. “He passed in his sleep, very peacefully, with no regrets.”

“Father!” Zhao Yuancheng still bristled with anger. It was clearly that venomous girl Lang Jiu’s curse that killed his grandfather.

Zhao Kun glared at him. “Silence! You’re about to be a father yourself, yet you show no sense of measure. How could you face the painstaking teachings your grandfather gave you? And those words you just spoke were far too hurtful. Curse? Utter nonsense. Apologize at once to your Lang family younger sister.”

Zhao Yuancheng: “?”

Younger sister? To hell with that! He, Zhao Yuancheng, had no such vicious, crow-mouthed sister!

Zhao Kun saw him stiffen and shot him another vicious glare. Then he turned to Lang Jiuchuan, his gaze complicated. Stepping forward, he said: “This must be Zhengfan’s daughter. You’ve grown so much. Forgive your Zhao elder brother Zhao—he grew up under his grandfather’s roof, and now with his sudden passing, he cannot accept it. Thus he spoke such rash words. Your Uncle Zhao apologizes in his stead. Please don’t hold it against him.”

Seeing him actually bow, the gathered crowd was dumbstruck. Was this real?

Lang Jiuchuan arched a brow. “You truly don’t blame me? He says I cursed old master to death.”

Zhao Kun gave a bitter smile. “Life and death are inevitable. My father was of advanced years. As for curses—mere nonsense. It was your elder brother Zhao who lost his wits.”

Zhao Yuancheng’s eyes burned redder still as he took another step forward—only to have both Lang Caimeng and Lang Caize seize him by the arms.

“Dear brother, we’ve imposed too much already. Were it not for this unfilial son barging in and nearly causing disaster, I would not have dared leave home. We’ve only just erected the mourning canopy and are in disarray. Let us not stay longer. We’ll gather again another day.” Zhao Kun said to Lang Zhengping, then bowed toward the mourning hall. After a brief hesitation, he turned to Lang Jiuchuan: “Ninth Young Miss, might I borrow a word with you?”

“He has already departed. There is no more burden.” Lang Jiuchuan, as if knowing what he would ask, gave this reply.

Zhao Kun seemed to exhale in relief. That expression made Lang Zhengping glance at him sidelong.

Lang Jiuchuan swept a glance at her side, then looked back at Zhao Kun. She crooked a finger and led him aside. Only when he drew near did she say: “On the second shelf in the South Study, there is a volume of Natural Records. Go and read it.”

Zhao Kun’s pupils shrank. He stared hard at her.

Lang Jiuchuan sighed faintly. “And also, he wishes to wear the pink-blue silk robe embroidered with crabapple blossoms on his final journey.”

Zhao Kun’s fingers trembled. He drew a long breath, wanting to speak, but Lang Jiuchuan had already turned back toward the mourning hall. She tilted her head slightly, lips moving as if murmuring to someone unseen. Zhao Kun halted, his eyes rimmed red.

Everyone watched this scene, dumbfounded, until Zhao Kun and his son were escorted away by Lang Zhengping before they came back to their senses.

“So wait—she really did curse the Zhao old master to death? Isn’t this the very definition of a crow’s mouth?” Lang Cailing’s voice was sharp.

Standing beside her, Wu Shi tugged at her sleeve and motioned with her chin.

Lang Cailing followed her gaze and saw her legitimate mother and Cui Shi standing side by side, both pairs of eyes fixed on her, their expressions unreadable. Her face paled a shade.

The other Langs, though curious to death, dared not speak recklessly. What if Lang Jiu overheard and cursed them too, bringing some ill fortune instead of good?

Meanwhile Zhao Kun was still chastising the resentful Zhao Yuancheng: “You are the eldest grandson. With your grandfather newly departed and the household in chaos, you—his favored heir—ought to be helping with the funeral. Instead you come here to cause trouble. What does this look like? And talk of cursing? You’ve read the sages’ books—how could you spout such absurdities? If such words spread, not only would you ruin that girl’s reputation, you’d make yourself a laughingstock for failing to discern right from wrong.”

Zhao Yuancheng flushed with shame, but protested: “But did you not hear her? She cursed Grandfather, saying he had only a few days left, and indeed he…”

Zhao Kun looked at him gravely. “Indeed, your grandfather did pass. But have you not thought—if it were not coincidence, upon what could she base such a prophecy?”

Zhao Yuancheng stiffened, fingers curling.

Zhao Kun’s eyes dimmed with sorrow. “When your grandfather’s funeral is over, I will speak with you in detail.”

He lifted the carriage curtain, gazing back toward the Lang residence. Remembering Lang Jiuchuan’s words, and recalling the toil and troubles of the past two days entrusted to him by his father, he pressed his lips together.

The Lang family… truly bore a trace of fate.

(End of chapter)