After the ghost-hunting master descended the mountain, his fame spread throughout the capital.

1. This story is fictional; everything is based on fiction.

2. Don't insult me, or I'll haunt you like a demon. (Reflecting on myself, did I insult you back when you insulted me?)

3. If you find it uninteresting or illogical, you can exit and delete it from your bookshelf. There are countless good books on Tomato Books, so don't force yourself to read them just to criticize me.

4. This story features a clean romance between the two main characters, and is 1v1. There is a romantic pairing and some romantic subplot. If you're looking for a story without a romantic pairing, look elsewhere.

5. Note: This is not a female-centric novel.

On the third day of the third lunar month, peach blossoms begin to bloom, and the spring grass at the end of the official road is still covered with morning dew.

A luxurious carriage slowly swayed out of Nanchansi Temple.

The carriage curtain was half-lifted, revealing a slender, pale fingertip, with a yellow talisman held between two fingers, which was casually tossed aside—

"Smack."

The talisman turned to ashes, swatting away the evil spirit that had been following them for three miles into wisps of smoke.

"That's the tenth one."

Jiang Dusheng yawned and put the empty talisman box back into his bundle.

Half an hour ago.

Jiang Dusheng stood in front of Nanchansi Temple, unwilling to leave, and lazily said:

"Master, if you don't tell the truth soon, I'm really going back to the temple to take another nap."

The old monk, with his white beard and eyebrows, flicked his robe and kicked a bundle through the air:

"Get out! You've eaten all the rice in this old monk's jar. If you don't come down the mountain soon, even the Bodhisattva will have to beg for alms to replenish your food supply."

The bundle landed squarely in the carriage, from which rolled out several stacks of cinnabar talismans, a string of sandalwood beads, and a light, fluttering piece of paper—

"A good opportunity is about to begin. My disciple, remember to collect the money; don't ruin the market."

Jiang Dusheng bent down, clutching the slip of paper, a cold smile curving his eyes: "Good karma? I think it's more like a money-related karma."

The old monk had already turned around, the bell rang three times, and the mountain gate closed, as if locking away the morning bell and evening drum of the past eighteen years.

The carriage creaked down the mountain, and the spring breeze lifted the corner of the curtain, revealing half of Jiang Dusheng's profile.

A dot of cinnabar between her brows, like blood splashed in snow, was strikingly cold.

At the end of the official road, the Changling city gate gradually came into view, shrouded in morning mist, like a giant talisman waiting for someone to put pen to paper.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the vermilion gate of the Minister's residence.

The butler, speaking through the carriage curtain, was respectful yet subtly distant: "Miss, we have arrived at the manor. Master and Madam are presumably already waiting inside."

Jiang Dusheng simply gave a faint "hmm," his expression revealing neither joy nor anger.

Her memories of her parents and brothers had become blurred; deep in her mind, all that remained were the wisps of incense smoke rising from Nanchansi Temple and her master's occasional sighs.

After she turned two, they never visited her at Nanchansi Temple again.

Why?

It was probably because her beloved younger sister was born that the magnificent and luxurious mansion of the Minister no longer needed an eldest daughter with an unusual destiny.

As her thoughts wandered, she bowed and got out of the car.

The sunlight was just right, illuminating the golden plaque bestowed by the emperor above the door, and the stone lions looked majestic and extraordinary.

She was casually looking around the facade of the Minister's residence when a beautiful woman in brocade robes strode out, followed by a group of maids and servants.

Song Suya spotted the girl standing next to the car at a glance.

She wore a simple white dress, and her dark hair was loosely tied up with a single wooden hairpin.

She wore no other adornments except for a single, strikingly red dot of cinnabar between her brows.

Seeing her all alone, so different from the image of her daughter she had imagined, the woman's eyes reddened and tears welled up.

"My son..."

Her voice trembled, filled with a heart full of guilt and pity accumulated over eighteen years. She opened her arms, wanting to embrace Jiang Dusheng.

However, Jiang Dusheng subtly shifted his body, avoiding the embrace without leaving a trace.

She tilted her head slightly, her clear yet unusually distant gaze falling on the beautiful woman's face, filled with doubt:

"Who are you?"

Those two short words, like a cold needle, gently pierced Song Suya's heart.

She froze, then choked up, unable to speak: "It's Mother, it's Mother! I'm sorry, Mother... Mother hasn't visited you in so long..."

A thousand words stuck in my throat, ultimately turning into a pale and powerless explanation:

"Your father and two elder brothers are away on official business and haven't returned yet. Your sister is unwell and is resting in her room. We..."

"I see."

Jiang Dusheng calmly interrupted her, his tone completely flat.

She knew they would be busy, knew her sister would be sick, and knew that the past eighteen years had long since washed away the intimacy that should have existed in their blood.

All of Song Suya's prepared words froze on her lips as she looked into Jiang Dusheng's overly clear and indifferent eyes.

She understood that any belated apology would seem empty and ridiculous at this moment.

Since the birth of her youngest daughter, she has indeed completely forgotten her eldest daughter, who lives far away in a temple.

The tears and guilt I feel now cannot make up for those eighteen blank years.

After a suffocating silence, Jiang Dusheng spoke again, asking the most practical question:

"Where is my yard?"

Looking at her daughter, whose expression was distant and even somewhat polite, Song Suya felt a lump in her throat and didn't know what to say for a moment.

She suppressed the bitterness welling up inside her, forced a gentle smile, and stepped aside to lead the way: "Your courtyard is this way."

She gestured for the maids and nannies behind her to follow, while she deliberately quickened her pace to walk alongside Jiang Dusheng.

As you walk through the covered walkway, the wind chimes beneath it tinkle softly in the breeze.

Song Suya pointed to a quiet courtyard not far away, her voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of caution:

"Look, that's your sister Wanqing's courtyard, right next to yours. It's convenient for the two sisters to visit each other since they live close by."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over Jiang Dusheng's plain, almost shabby, bundle before settling on the faded hem of her skirt.

Her heart ached again, and her tone became even gentler: "Take a look and see if there's anything missing in the yard. Just tell your mother, and she'll get it all for you right away."

Jiang Dusheng looked in the direction she pointed out. The courtyard was lush with flowers and trees, and the doors were exquisite. It was clear that it had been carefully maintained.

She looked away, her face expressionless, and simply nodded faintly: "Yes, thank you for your trouble. There's nothing to fix right now."

She paused, her tone calm, as if she were talking about something perfectly ordinary: "I've stayed in some of the worst places before."

She didn't mean to be hurtful; she was just stating a fact.

However, to Song Suya, it sounded like a poisoned needle, piercing the softest part of her heart.

Behind her daughter's seemingly casual remark lies years of hardship and suffering.

She felt a tightness in her chest, almost unable to breathe.

She abruptly stopped, waved to the maids and nannies following behind her, and said in a slightly trembling voice, "You may all leave. You don't need to follow me anymore."

Once the footsteps faded away, only the mother and daughter remained on the corridor.

The early summer breeze, carrying the fragrance of flowers, swept by, but it couldn't dispel the somber atmosphere.

Song Suya turned around to face Jiang Dusheng, her eyes already red, and her voice choked as she asked the question that had been weighing on her heart for so long:

"Dusheng... are you... are you blaming us?"

She looked at the cinnabar between Jiang Dusheng's eyebrows. It was applied by the abbot of the temple when she was sent there, supposedly to suppress the so-called "yin evil" in her body.

Looking at it now, the cinnabar did not detract from her appearance; instead, it added a transcendent and aloof quality to her.

Jiang Dusheng did not look away; his clear, cold eyes met Song Suya's tearful gaze directly.

Her voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear:

"If I said I didn't blame you, that would be a lie."

She paused slightly, her gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar mansion, and asked the question that had troubled her for many years:

"But... I'm curious, why?"

She looked at Song Suya, her eyes filled with undisguised confusion:

"Why haven't you come to see me all these years? Not even once...?"

The words "not even once" struck Song Suya like a hammer blow, causing her to stagger back half a step, tears instantly welling up in her eyes.

She hurriedly covered her mouth with a handkerchief, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, but... after your sister Wanqing was born, she was as weak as a kitten, and she was sick every few days..."

"We sought out many famous doctors, but to no avail. Later... later we had no choice but to seek help from the master at Huguo Temple..."

She looked up, her eyes filled with tears, pain, and shame:

"That master said your fate is solitary and your birth chart is too strong, making you prone to...prone to clashing with weak people. If you get close to someone, Wanqing won't survive. Mother panicked, that's why..."

Song Suya couldn't continue speaking, and could only suppress her sobs.

"You've already forgotten me?" Jiang Dusheng finished her sentence for her, a slight smile playing on his lips, as if he were listening to a story that had nothing to do with him.

"Yes, that is... an acceptable explanation."

She understood their concerns and fears regarding the safety of young girls.

Logically speaking, she can accept this explanation.

However… she is not a reasonable person.

So, Jiang Dusheng raised his eyes, his tone calm but icy, "But, I don't accept it."