Chapter Eight: Brazen Words Ignite the Fury of the Masses

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Mrs. Cui had not expected Lang Jiuchuan to question her and stood there stunned, her face full of disbelief. Which younger family member present would be so bold as to question an elder in front of outsiders?

Lang Zhengping’s face darkened like the bottom of a pot. He urged his son and daughter-in-law, “Hurry and take her downstairs.” Then he quickly approached Old Zhao with a forced smile and said, “Please forgive us, sir. This child has been in poor health since she was young and was raised at the estate. She has only just returned and is not yet familiar with proper manners.”

Old Zhao said nothing. It was his grandson, Zhao Yuancheng, who frowned and cast a sideways glare at Lang Jiuchuan. “Uncle Lang, this is no longer a matter of manners. She spoke disrespectfully and cursed my grandfather.”

“Brother Zhao, please calm your anger. This is our Lang family’s fault. After the funeral for the family patriarch, we will surely bring this girl to your door to apologize in person,” the Lang family’s younger members stepped forward, clasping their fists in apology.

Lang Cailing, along with her sisters, scolded Lang Jiuchuan sharply, “Even if you don’t understand the rules, you should know what words are appropriate and which are not. Why aren’t you kneeling to ask for forgiveness?”

“That’s right, utter nonsense,”

“This is not the countryside, not a place where ignorant women blabber whatever comes to mind.”

“What a troublemaker, she can’t even settle down after coming back.”

The accusations and scoldings descended on Lang Jiuchuan like soaked silk veils.

Her eyes gradually reddened. Just as she was about to speak, Old Zhao raised a hand and coughed heavily, “Enough. They’re just children and don’t understand. There’s no need to make a fuss.”

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Silence fell over the hall.

Old Zhao looked at Lang Jiuchuan and said, “As you said, I am two years older than your grandfather. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say one of my legs is already in the coffin...”

“Grandfather!” Zhao Yuancheng frowned. His grandfather was too lenient.

Old Zhao patted his hand. “She’s just a young girl. Why be so harsh on her?”

Zhao Yuancheng opened his mouth but thought to himself that with her sharp tongue, it was hard not to be harsh. Just listen to her mouth—it incites anger in everyone.

Lang Jiuchuan smiled and said, “Are you truly defending me? In fact, I know you are angry. My words are indeed sharp. Your magnanimity is just a pretense because you think I am young and reckless, and that one day my careless words will bring disaster upon me. So you see no need for others to reprimand me; you think time will suffice.”

Old Zhao was taken aback.

In truth, he had thought the same. If the girl continued to speak so impertinently, she would eventually pay the price for her reckless words.

Seeing Lang Jiuchuan growing more audacious, Mrs. Cui scolded harshly, “Don’t be insolent.”

Lang Jiuchuan ignored her and stepped forward to stand before Old Zhao. “I understand respect for elders and love for the young, but when I say such things, it is not without reason. People have three flames of life. You have already extinguished two on your shoulders, and the one atop your head will be fully extinguished within three days. Old sir, the most important flame on your head is the flame of spirit. The so-called gentleman is broad-minded; only by maintaining noble morals and a positive spirit can this flame burn brightly. But clearly, you have taken a wrong step recently. You must have sensed it yourself, or you wouldn’t be restless and anxious.”

That old man’s three flames were almost out—wasn’t he close to death?

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Old Zhao’s expression shifted slightly. Looking into her eyes, he felt as if they held a whirlpool ready to drag him in and tear him apart.

“You…”

“If you save those who shouldn’t be saved and stubbornly refuse to leave, then your descendants will have to leave in your stead,” Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes flicked, a cruel smile curling at the corners of her lips. “This is called a life for a life.”

Old Zhao followed her gaze to his grandson. His pupils contracted, and the hand gripping his cane tensed until the veins bulged.

Smack.

The crisp, sharp slap echoed, startling everyone awake.

“Bastard!”