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

Jiang Dusheng listened quietly to Song Suya's words and suddenly found them somewhat amusing.

These so-called blood relatives are not even as good at treating people sincerely as the foxes in the back mountains of Nanchansi Temple.

She showed no anger, no questioning, and not even a hint of grievance.

She simply nodded slightly, as if confirming something trivial.

"So this is what it means to make someone's wish come true..."

Jiang Dusheng slowly walked to the window, looked at a pear tree in the courtyard, and softened his voice:

"My master often said that I was destined for misfortune. These eighteen years, seemingly peaceful, were actually time borrowed from heaven, and the price to pay..."

At this point, she suddenly turned around, her gaze falling on Song Suya's face, "The price... is that I must save all living beings."

She paused slightly, as if recalling some interesting memory:

"I remember last July 14th, I met the ghost of a drowned woman by the river. She insisted that I deliver a message to her sweetheart. Ironically, the man married a woman just half a month after she died."

Upon hearing this, Song Suya couldn't help but shudder.

Jiang Dusheng continued, his tone chillingly calm, "In the past, I only ferried wandering ghosts..."

She paused slightly, her voice revealing neither joy nor anger, only a clear, unchanging tone:

"Today, I shall... ferry someone across."

These words, spoken so casually, sent a strange sense of unease through Song Suya.

"Why not give her this wedding gift?"

After hearing these words, Song Suya felt a mix of emotions.

She had imagined countless possibilities—

The daughter's crying, questioning, and even resentment.

I never expected it to turn out like this.

She should be happy to hear Jiang Dusheng's agreement.

Wanqing was finally able to be with the person she loved. But...

She looked at her eldest daughter's silhouette against the backlight; her neck was so slender it seemed as if it would break at any moment, yet it stood as straight as a bamboo shoot.

At that moment, Song Suya felt as if her heart had been torn in two.

Half of her joy was for her younger daughter's wish to be fulfilled, while the other half was stung by her older daughter's unusual calm.

"Watatsuki..."

Song Suya choked up as she stepped forward, wanting to hold her daughter's hand, but her daughter gently avoided her.

The hand that hovered in mid-air remained awkwardly there, much like the unbridgeable distance between them.

Song Suya hurriedly wiped away her tears with a handkerchief, her voice tinged with a desperate attempt to appease him:

"Dusheng...my dear daughter, your parents have wronged you. Don't worry, I will make it up to you! Just tell me what you want!"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Dusheng simply shook her head. "I'm tired." Her voice clearly conveyed a sense of wanting him to leave.

This is not a fit of pique, nor is it a pose.

She was truly exhausted.

Seeing this, Song Suya knew that saying anything more would only create more awkwardness. She stammered, "..."

"Then you... rest well, Mother... Mother will be leaving now."

She practically fled the courtyard, her hurried departure carrying a contradictory mix of relief and guilt.

Jiang Dusheng remained standing in the same spot, his gaze fixed on the pear tree in the yard, where a few leaves had fallen to the ground.

Just like some family ties that are not worth cherishing, they can be scattered by the wind.

She whispered to herself, so that only she could hear:

"...Anything that is forced or demanded becomes a demon in one's heart."

She agreed to give up the marriage not because she was weak, but because she simply didn't care.

What she cared about was never these mundane things.

Before she descended the mountain, she still harbored a faint illusion about these so-called blood relatives.

At this moment, even that glimmer of hope has been completely extinguished.

Whether it was sixteen years ago or today, their choice has unhesitatingly leaned towards their beloved youngest daughter.

Pity.

She still vaguely remembers the lullaby her mother sang to her in her arms in the meditation room of Nanzen-ji Temple on a special day when she was two years old.

I remember the candied hawthorn that my older brother secretly brought her; the sweetness of that candied hawthorn seems somewhat unreal in my memory.

Unfortunately, it was all just a mirage.

"If my mind is not at peace, even if I am standing in front of the Buddha and listening to chants every day, it would be as if I were in the raging hell of Avici Hell, where every moment would be endless torment."

Jiang Dusheng's eyes lit up, and he felt his mind clear. "Master, I think I... have understood!"

She turned around and looked at Wang Dazhuang, who was wandering aimlessly around the room with nothing to do.

"Alright, stop shaking." She interrupted his tedious behavior. "I'll cut your body right now."

After saying that, she took out a stack of neatly cut plain white Xuan paper and a small but gleaming silver scissors from the half-worn blue cloth bundle.

Her fingers were incredibly nimble; the scissors moved across the paper, making a soft rustling sound.

Before long, a paper figure with all four limbs took shape in her palm.

She pointed to it and made a dotted gesture, and a talisman that stabilized its form merged into it.

"Go."

The paper figure trembled a few times in her palm, and then Wang Dazhuang was absorbed into a soft white light.

As the light faded, a physical human figure appeared in the spot. Although the movements were still somewhat stiff, it was indeed a tangible form.

Wang Dazhuang first moved his hands and feet with curiosity, then rushed to the bronze mirror on the dressing table and peeked inside—

"Aww!!"

A piercing, ghostly scream nearly ripped the roof off.

The person in the mirror had a sallow complexion, uneven eyebrows, and a flat nose that looked as if it had been punched in the face.

His mouth was so crooked that it looked exactly like a scribble made by God when he was drunk.

He pointed a trembling finger at his own face, then turned his head and looked at the culprit on the soft couch with a accusing gaze.

"Master! Master! Master! Master!" He was so angry that he trembled all over, and even the paper body made a rustling sound.

"This...this face..." He was filled with grief and indignation, his words incoherent, "How could this face...be even uglier than my already awful original self...?!"

"If I walked out like that, I'd scare away not only children, but even the dogs in the next village would run three blocks away!"

Jiang Dusheng didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, remaining lazily lying on the soft couch.

She rested one hand on her forehead, casually toying with the small silver scissors in the other, her tone carrying a matter-of-fact perfunctory tone:

"Oh well, you're out of luck."

She lazily raised the corners of her lips, "This master is not in a good mood right now, so my performance may be subpar. You... will have to make do with it for now."

Wang Dazhuang pouted, feeling wronged, but dared not speak out.

In the end, he could only stomp his feet in resignation and use both hands and feet to climb over the low wall in the backyard.

A gentle breeze carried only his indistinct mutterings, brimming with resentment:

"...Who is this person? A master, huh? All they do is bully short-lived wretches like me who have no one to care for them..."

The sound faded into the distance until it was no longer heard.