Chapter 5: Opening the Coffin

Tang Chaochao changed back into her Taoist robe once again.

Song Rongzhi, standing nearby, hesitated, wanting to speak.

Her beautiful daughter would surely look stunning in fine clothes.

But Tang Chaochao, accustomed to wearing Taoist robes, found those elaborate dresses too cumbersome.

Song Rongzhi didn’t insist; instead, she gently arranged her daughter’s hair herself.

Though it was just a simple bun, her movements were tender and skillful, as if caressing a rare treasure.

Before stepping out the door, Tang Chaochao suddenly turned back.

She called out softly to Song Rongzhi, who was watching her silhouette.

“Mother.”

Song Rongzhi’s eyes reddened instantly; she instinctively covered her mouth.

She had waited sixteen long years to hear that word.

Tang Chaochao could not bear to see her shed tears.

Her mother was far too sentimental.

Seeing her daughter awkwardly flee, Song Rongzhi felt a mixture of amusement and helplessness.

Stepping out of her mother’s small courtyard, Tang Chaochao spotted some maids and servants passing by.

She grabbed a young servant’s collar with one hand.

“Go find some people and bring tools for opening the coffin. Gather at the main gate.”

The servant was startled by her sudden grasp.

After hearing her orders, he timidly replied, “Second Miss, just say the word. No need to grab me like that.”

Embarrassed, Tang Chaochao released him.

“Hurry up. I don’t like waiting, understand?”

The servant nodded quickly. If she dared to kick even the general’s backside, how could they refuse?

Without watching the servant scamper off, Tang Chaochao strode toward the general’s residence gate.

Along the way, she caught another servant and told him to bring her horse to the gate.

The general’s household was impressively efficient.

When she arrived, over a dozen servants were already waiting neatly with the tools.

Her black horse had been brought out as well.

Taking the reins, Tang Chaochao swiftly mounted the horse in one smooth motion.

With a tug of the reins, the black steed neighed loudly.

Inside the study.

“General, the Second Miss has already departed. Should we send someone to follow her?” reported Tang Shan, the personal guard, bowing respectfully.

Tang Wu, seated at his desk, wore a stern expression, tinged with frustration.

“You want to follow? What can you do? She can take down any one of you with a single punch!”

Mentioning the Second Miss’s skills, Tang Shan’s face showed admiration.

“General, the Second Miss is truly formidable—not without reason is she your daughter!”

Though Tang Wu’s expression remained grave, his tone revealed a trace of pride.

“My seed doesn’t need praise from a brat like you,” Tang Wu retorted.

Tang Shan smiled awkwardly.

“General, I understand. But are you sure no one needs to watch over her?”

Tang Wu’s face softened suddenly.

“My eldest daughter died tragically. I’ve been heartbroken and bedridden. If my youngest daughter does anything reckless, I have no time to deal with it.

We’ll handle everything once I recover.”

Tang Shan immediately grasped the general’s meaning.

If the Second Miss wants to stir trouble, let her. The general will back her up no matter what.

Tang Shan had been raised by the general and understood his temper better than anyone.

The eldest daughter’s death remained a mystery.

Though the general knew who was responsible—no one beyond a few men—he dared not act rashly.

The Second Miss was different.

She was a girl raised in the mountains; any wild behavior would be dismissed as childish mischief.

Just as Tang Shan was about to leave, Tang Wu spoke again.

“If word gets out that my daughter kicked me…”

Tang Wu paused, then understood the general’s intention.

They wanted to let everyone know the Second Miss was fierce.

No one in Huaicheng or the capital dared cause trouble if she even kicked her own father.

Though disrespectful, that was just how their Second Miss was.

Having only glimpsed his daughters at birth, the general felt guilt.

For now, a little indulgence from others was unavoidable.

After receiving orders, Tang Shan left.

Song Rongzhi then entered the study, her face glowing with unhidden joy.

Tang Wu thought the youngest daughter’s return had lifted Song Rongzhi from the sorrow over the eldest.

Unexpectedly, Song Rongzhi boasted.

“General, did you know? Chaochao just called me ‘Mother.’

Do you think she’s acknowledged us, knowing we had no choice but to be her family?”

Tang Wu snorted coldly.

The brat only recognized you as her mother; she still calls me ‘Old Tang!’

Song Rongzhi’s happiness was brief; worry crept in.

“Mu Mu has left. Do you think they might shift the marriage arrangements onto Chaochao?”

Though the general’s residence was outside the capital, it was coveted by many.

Marriage alliances were the best way to strengthen ties.

His Majesty favored the Crown Prince and hoped the general’s household would support him—understandable.

The Tang family had no sons, so the emperor harbored no suspicions.

But thinking of Chaochao's recent return and the fate likely awaiting her, like the eldest daughter, Song Rongzhi’s heart tightened painfully.

Tang Wu’s face darkened.

He wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder, trying to comfort her.

“Our daughter just came back. If His Majesty proposes a match, just say you can’t bear to part with her.

No need to worry too much.

Besides, didn’t the Daoist say one of our daughters would live while the other dies?”

At that, Tang Wu’s lips tightened into a line, unwilling to say more.

But his meaning was clear.

One has died; the other is destined to survive.

Each time he thought of his deceased eldest daughter, his heart ached anew.

In other words, her death was a consequence of his own choices.

But without those choices, Chaochao wouldn’t have survived that rainy night.

Elsewhere, Tang Chaochao looked at the tent already set up.

She ordered everyone to stay away and entered alone.

Inside was a coffin placed on the ground.

She approached slowly; snowflakes drifting on her face blurred the line between tears and snow.

Her fingers traced the cold surface of the coffin.

Within lay the sister she had never met.

Now separated by life and death.

The old Daoist’s words rang true: those divided by yin and yang shall never meet.

Grief welled up inside her.

Before seeing her, she had only known anger.

Now, on the verge of reunion, the blood connection made her eyes brim with tears.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t cry—it was that she had never truly experienced it.

Tang Chaochao suppressed the heat in her eyes.

She summoned inner strength in her palm and slowly slid open the coffin lid.

Inside lay a woman, dressed neatly and exquisitely, identical to herself, as if peacefully asleep.

Though she had never seen her alive, one glance revealed her noble, graceful, and gentle nature.

The body was remarkably well preserved.

Tang Chaochao knew why.

She reached out a hand and lifted the woman’s perfect jaw.

With a gentle pinch, she discovered a pearl held in her mouth.