Chapter 26: Lang Jiu Has a Sharp Tongue and Cares Not Whether Others Live or Die

 

Chapter 26: Lang Jiu Has a Sharp Tongue and Cares Not Whether Others Live or Die

Hearing Cui Shi speak in such a manner, perhaps feeling reassured by the strong backing, Lang Zhengping’s stern face finally loosened somewhat. Yet when he thought of Elder Master Zhao’s sudden passing, his brows furrowed once more. He glanced toward Lang Jiuchuan, who was lost in thought, and gave a cough.

Lang Jiuchuan was still mulling over what exactly the Gong family and Dao Root were. She felt she had heard of them before, yet could not recall.

She still had to retrieve her missing soul.

It was only when Lang Zhengping called her that she came back to her senses and looked over.

Lang Zhengping fixed his gaze on her and said:

“There is an old saying that disaster comes from the mouth. Even if talk of curses is groundless and absurd, speaking vile words is a certainty, and most people see it as a grave taboo. All the more so now that Zhao Lao has died so suddenly—it may well be deemed as your words becoming a dire omen. The Zhao family may not truly bear no thought of resentment. If you know something, it would be better to speak of it, so that we might find a way to deal with matters and not end up with enmity between our houses.”

Lang Jiuchuan laughed:

“Why not just say directly that I have a crow’s mouth!”

Lang Zhengping’s hand trembled, the beard by his lips quivering in rage. His eyes bulged like copper bells. The lid of the teacup in his hand he nearly flung as he often did when reprimanding his own sons. Yet just as his hand moved, it was pressed down.

He lowered his gaze and followed the hand— it was Fan Shi. She shook her head and even cast him a meaningful glance.

Hold yourself back. You are but the eldest uncle; it is not your place to lash out while her own mother yet sits here.

Lang Zhengping drew a deep breath. Endure—yet his heart choked with the effort.

Cui Shi did not disappoint him, however, for her face darkened as she scolded:

“What manner is this? How dare you speak so to your elders? Where is your upbringing?”

Lang Jiuchuan smiled coldly:

“Madam has asked well—indeed, where is my upbringing?”

Cui Shi’s expression changed at once:

“You—!”

Seeing the two locked in contention, Fan Shi quickly rose, saying:

“Enough, enough, younger sister-in-law, do not let anger consume you. The child is still young.”

Cui Shi’s chest rose and fell sharply, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Finding it all tedious, Lang Jiuchuan turned to Lang Zhengping:

“As for the Zhao family, you need not worry. They came today yet did nothing to me, and hereafter they will not use this matter against us. Rather, they ought to thank me. Just wait and see.”

With that, she stood, inclined her head slightly, and left.

Such an aloof manner! This one they had brought back not only bore a rebellious air, but was a thorny one besides!

Lang Zhengwen, who had remained silent all this while, shook his head. This niece of his was truly difficult to manage—troubles lay ahead.

But for the moment, household matters were of greater urgency.

“Elder Brother, with today’s incident, should we not bid everyone in the household hold their tongues? If such talk spreads outside, it would harm our Marquisate. Should it even reach the imperial ears, they would deem our household lacking in filial duty and discipline…”

Lang Zhengping tapped his fingers on the table, pondered for a moment, then said:

“No, we shall not stifle it. Let it spread—it is no matter. Not only so, but I must enter the palace to weep.”

The others were taken aback, not understanding.

“The child that cries loudest is given candy. The Lang family is already weakened and declining. With Father’s passing, we are further removed from the core of the court. Even so, there are still those who would use such poisonous means against us—nothing short of seeking to exterminate us. Rivalry among court factions is common enough, yet to employ such sinister, crooked methods—this the throne will not abide. It is a grave taboo.”

Lang Zhengwen nodded.

“When weakness must be shown, then show it. In any case, we must observe mourning for several years. To use these years to bide our time and sharpen our blades would also be well. In the next generation, too, we must teach them with utmost care.” Lang Zhengping sighed with despondence:

“Our family suffers too severe a gap in talent. Without outstanding heirs to emerge, decline will come all the swifter.”

Silence fell again.

Indeed, who could deny it? Over ten years ago, there had been Lang Zhengfan—unconventional yet a youthful hero. Yet he had not lived past thirty, cut down in the prime of his years.

Now, in Lang Caimeng’s generation, though sons and daughters numbered over ten, not one was truly exceptional. Even the eldest legitimate grandson, Lang Caimeng, was but a provincial graduate. Already twenty-one, after a year of mourning he might resume studies, yet should he fail to pass the metropolitan examination, relying on a mere provincial degree, even with excellent performance as an official, how high could he rise—fourth rank, at most?

Heavy-hearted, Lang Zhengping said:

“Make ready. I shall submit my visiting card and enter the palace at once. The sooner the better.”

“Yes.”

Lang Jiuchuan, upon leaving the study, did not return to the mourning hall—she was frail, after all.

On her way toward the old Madam’s Kangshou Courtyard, she kept mulling over the words “Gong family” and “Dao Root,” certain she had heard them somewhere before, yet unable to recall.

Ah, this wretched mind!

She tugged at her hair in frustration, then suddenly halted—someone had darted before her.

The maid Jianlan, following behind her, was startled as well. Instinctively she stepped forward to shield Lang Jiuchuan, glaring warily at the man ahead:

“Who are you?”

Before them stood a young man in coarse garments, his hair bound with a cloth strip, features refined. Perhaps from nearly colliding with them, he looked somewhat flustered, stepping back two paces and bowing with clasped fists:

“This humble student, Liu Ming. I beg pardon.”

Jianlan eyed him up and down, frowning. “You are one of the disciples in the southern courtyard. What are you doing here?”

Among the powerful families in the capital, it was common to keep disciples (menke). The Marquis of Kaiping’s household was no exception. These disciples were housed separately in the southern courtyard, with its own gate. No one expected one of them to stray into the main quarters.

“I merely wished to pay respects before the late Marquis’s spirit tablet, but somehow I lost my way,” Liu Ming said with embarrassment. “I nearly offended Miss—truly I am ashamed.”

These last words were directed to Lang Jiuchuan, as he gave her a deep bow, the courtesy of a gentleman.

Lang Jiuchuan arched a brow, stepped forward to scrutinize him, then told Jianlan: “Have him thrown out. Do not let him defile the late Marquis’s hall.”

Jianlan: “?”

Liu Ming froze, stunned. This was not the reaction he had imagined.

Lang Jiuchuan’s face was full of disdain as she sneered: “A crooked heart is one thing, but you still reek of wanton fox-like seduction. And you dare presume to offer incense before the late Marquis? Are you courting death?”

Liu Ming’s heart pounded furiously. His face flushed red, and he wished to protest.

But Lang Jiuchuan had no intention of listening. She said to Jianlan: “Hurry now.”

Jianlan gave a startled “Ah,” but before she could move, Liu Ming, stung with humiliation, declared: “I merely lost my way. How could Miss insult me so? I may be a disciple of the Marquis household, but I am not one to be insulted at will.”

Lang Jiuchuan laughed coldly. “Did you not rush forward just to cling to high branches? If you cannot even endure a few barbs, how do you expect to climb? Do you think the lofty branches of Wujing welcome your little act of feigned dignity?”

“You—!”

Lang Jiuchuan turned and left. Jianlan called over a servant and ordered him to lead the youth away.

Liu Ming stamped his feet in fury. Before leaving the southern courtyard, his neighbor He Chao had already mocked him for harboring wild dreams—and indeed, it had come true.

But was this Ninth Young Miss not just brought back from the countryside? How could she be fiercer than a sheltered maiden of the inner chambers, and with such a venomous tongue! Truly, she must have grown up without proper refinement.

When the place had quieted again, several figures emerged from the shadows.

Lang Zhengping said to the steward beside him: “Investigate this Liu Ming. If anything is amiss, drive him out.”

“Yes.”

Lang Zhengwen furrowed his brows. “Eldest Brother, was it hearing Ninth Young Miss’s words that made you suspect this disciple sought to cling to high branches?”

Lang Zhengping gave a cold snort. “At this hour of lantern-light, and he claims he lost his way? Even a little girl would not believe that. A timid maiden of the inner quarters might well have been deceived—but too bad for him, he encountered a sharp tongue that shows no mercy, and ran headlong into an iron wall.”

(End of Chapter)