The Battle of the Noble Ladies (Book 2)

Chapter 97 - Threat

Song Chuning had never been one to concede defeat willingly. Even in death, she sought to die in a way that set her apart, to go out with a bang, leaving those who survived to live in constant fear under the shadow she cast.

Old Lady Song frowned, looking at Song Chuyi with deep worry etched across her face. Being of advanced age, she was particularly superstitious. Furthermore, with two young ladies in the Song family having had dreams foretelling the future, she believed in such supernatural matters even more firmly.

Her heart skipped a few beats, throbbing intensely within her chest. Closing her eyes slowly, she calmed herself from a wave of dizziness. Turning to the First Lady, she instructed, "Deal with it tonight. By morning, send a few carriages out of the capital and say that our Eighth Miss's illness has worsened with a rash, so she's being sent to the estate for recuperation."

Song Chuning's death was truly ill-timed, as Song Chuxuan and Song Chubin's future in-laws were set to visit in the coming days. Typically, the untimely death of an unmarried girl shouldn't matter much. However, dying during the New Year's festivities—when relatives frequently visited—was bound to be problematic.

Outside, the wind shifted direction, sweeping into the room and scattering the papers on the table, sending them fluttering through the air.

Old Lady Song pulled a sheet that had been blown onto her face. She was about to toss it aside when something caught her eye—several large vermilion characters on the page stood out, especially eerie under the dim lights and the howling northern wind.

The First Lady's sharp gaze caught a glimpse, and a chill ran down her spine. She quickly grabbed the paper, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the room. The belongings of the dead were already inauspicious, and even more so at New Year—particularly when the deceased had written out curses of wiping out an entire household. The room felt filled with an ominous chill, as if haunted.

Old Lady Song led the First Lady and Song Chuyi out of the room. Nanny Jin hurried forward to lock the door, as if a malevolent ghost lurked within.

It was only natural; Song Chuning had caused trouble while alive, and now, her unique way of dying was unsettling, making it hard for anyone not to feel afraid.

Old Lady Song exhaled, holding Song Chuyi's hand, unsure how to start. After a long pause, she finally patted the back of her hand with a sigh, saying, "Tomorrow, you should go to your Aunt's house to pay respects. In a few days, I'll take you to Huangjue Temple."

The curse Song Chuning left behind weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.

Song Chuyi wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, her face mostly hidden beneath the smooth, lustrous fox fur. Her voice, however, remained steady as ever. "I understand. Don't worry, Grandmother, I'm not afraid."

But the First Lady was indeed frightened. The large, ominous characters on the paper reading "to die a terrible death" had scared her nearly half to death, and what terrified her more was that the pages scattered everywhere listed the names of everyone in the Song family.

The only page without a name...

Thinking of her unnamed young grandson, the First Lady's anger flared up intensely. "Mother, perhaps we should invite Master Yuanhui to come in person... I really don't feel at ease..."

Old Lady Song understood her thoughts and the maternal care behind them. She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Let's go the day after tomorrow. I didn't go to the temple this year, so we'll go on the seventh."

Ziyun and Qingtao each held a lantern on either side of Song Chuyi, shielding her as they walked. Occasionally, the two exchanged glances, seeing their own pale faces reflected in each other's eyes.

They had been through their share of things while following Song Chuyi, but today felt different—after all, there were four whole corpses.

Song Chuyi's attention wasn't on that. She thought of Song Chuning's letter and suddenly felt an unsettling realization.

She had always understood Song Chuning deeply, given her past and present experiences combined. One could say she knew Song Chuning inside out. In that letter, Song Chuning had wished her and Song Yan a long life free of illness or disaster—a wish that was utterly terrifying.

Every other member of the Song family, even the newborn without a name, was cursed, yet she and Song Yan—the two people Song Chuning should have hated most—were instead blessed with long life?

She hung her head in thought for a while, drifting into a daze before closing her eyes on the bed.

Meanwhile, a courtyard in Marquis Jinxiang's residence on BeiHua Alley remained brightly lit.

In a warm room heated by a brazier, Wei Yanjun lay back with his robe open, half of his bare chest leaning against Han Zhi's waist. His dark hair spilled across the bedding. "Han Zhi," he called out, and seeing Han Zhi look his way, he fully straddled him. "Your mother dislikes me even more. She nearly barred me from entering today."

His tone held a hint of grievance, but a smile lingered on his face. Dimples occasionally appeared on his slightly feminine features, making him particularly alluring.

Han Zhi gave his rear a casual pat, playing with his hair in a lazy, carefree manner. "She wouldn't do anything so foolish, so stop trying to stir up nonsense between us."

Wei Yanjun pouted with a lack of interest and obediently lay on Han Zhi's chest like a cat. "Tell me, what kind of woman is your mother, exactly? From what I see, she's indifferent to your father and raises her many concubine-born sons and daughters with the same care. She doesn't treat you specially either; you've been away for years, and she hasn't even bothered to write a letter, let alone check up on you. Take today, for instance—during the meal, she didn't so much as glance your way..."

The door creaked almost soundlessly, and Han Zhi sat up, looking at the newcomer with an ambiguous smile. "Is there news?"

Wei Yanjun also adjusted his clothes, leaning alluringly against the pillow with a soft laugh. "Yanxi, it seems like you've aged a bit more."

Wei Yanxi ignored him, fixing his gaze on Han Zhi without a trace of expression. "There's news. When are we taking action?"

Han Zhi swung his legs off the bed, grabbed a wine flask, and took a careless swig. "In a couple of days. There are plenty of festivals around the capital now. Old Lady Song won't be quick to announce Eighth Miss Song's passing, especially for the sake of her granddaughters."

From behind, Wei Yanjun wrapped his arms around Han Zhi's neck, resting his head on his shoulder as he glanced over at Wei Yanxi. "Han Zhi, you'd best advise His Highness. Being overly greedy may not end well. With both girls from the Song family being so unique, trying to claim both might be more than he can handle."

Wei Yanxi nodded, his expression still blank. "And if Prince Duan finds out that His Highness has been pulling such tricks behind the scenes..."

Han Zhi raised a hand, cutting them off, his expression still calm. "His Highness has his own plans. Don't concern yourselves—just focus on your own duties."

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Translator Xiaobai: At this point, I don't know if the author forgot the name or not. Is it Han Yu or Han Zhi? -sigh- Well, I will keep it as Han Zhi from now on.