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

But the child was born with a weak breath and a bluish-purple tinge on his body.

No matter how many famous doctors treated him, or how many precious medicines he was given, it was all like throwing stones into the sea; he was on the verge of dying...

Just then, the gatekeeper came to report that a monk claiming to be the abbot of Nanchansi Temple had come to beg for alms, and that he might have a way to rescue the young lady.

"Nonsense!"

At that time, she was exhausted and did not believe in these superstitious and supernatural beliefs at all.

He thought they were just con artists taking advantage of his misfortune, so he immediately ordered his men to drive them away.

However, three days later.

That small body grew colder and colder in her arms until finally, even the faint rise and fall of its chest disappeared completely.

Her world was bleak.

Just as the whole family was immersed in despair and preparing for the funeral, the monk who had been driven away reappeared in front of the mansion.

Clinging to her last shred of hope, she let the person into the mansion.

The monk glanced at the lifeless infant and simply said, "Amitabha, it is fate, how pitiful."

Then, no one knows what kind of supernatural power he used, but a soft golden light emanated from his fingertips as he drew an intricate rune in the air and gently touched it into the child's brow.

A miracle happened.

Her small, already cold body slowly warmed up, and her chest began to rise and fall slightly.

Immediately afterwards, a faint cry, barely audible, pierced the deathly silence of the room.

"He's alive! My child is alive!"

She practically lunged at the child, hugging him tightly, and wept with joy.

He was extremely grateful to the monk, almost kneeling down.

But the monk showed no joy; instead, his expression grew even more solemn.

He said in a deep voice, "Madam, this method is to borrow life from heaven and forcibly extend her life by a thread. It is not a long-term solution."

"This woman's fate is peculiar, with an excessive amount of malevolent energy that clashes with her family. The only way to save her is to place her before a Buddha statue and let Buddhist teachings gradually resolve the negative influence. If she is kept in the mansion... I'm afraid she won't survive more than half a month."

On one side was her own flesh and blood, whom she had just regained and hadn't even had a chance to warm up; on the other side was the monk's stern face, which demanded absolute authority.

The agonizing decision nearly tore her apart.

Finally, seeing the child's fragile appearance, her heart ached, tears streamed down her face, yet she had no choice but to hand her swaddled daughter over with trembling hands...

The monk took the child, gazed at him for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, and then said after a long while:

"This girl was born to undergo tribulation, either to help others or to help herself. This humble monk will give her a name, 'Dusheng' (meaning 'to save lives'). I hope she can overcome the calamities of this life and also... help others."

Recalling this moment, Song Suya was already in tears, her heart gnawed by endless regret and guilt.

She vigorously wiped away her tears with her handkerchief, took a deep breath, and tried to make her voice sound steady as she instructed Granny Zhao:

"Go, take my token and immediately go and invite Master Chen from Yunjinfang."

"Have her bring the latest fabrics and have several sets of clothes made for Dusheng, including casual clothes, formal wear, and riding clothes for spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Make sure they are exquisite and fit him perfectly."

She paused, then added:

"Go to Zhenlong Pavilion again and have them bring out the newly arrived gold and kingfisher feather headdress, the mutton-fat jade bracelet..."

"Pick out all the exquisite and valuable items and send them to the young lady."

As night fell, the lanterns under the eaves lit up one by one, spreading out circles of orange light.

Granny Zhao was efficient; at noon, she had someone take Jiang Dusheng's measurements.

In just two hours, she personally led several quick-handed, rough-around-the-edges women in bringing in several heavy sandalwood trays.

Several newly tailored dresses were neatly stacked on the tray, along with two open brocade boxes filled with glittering jewelry, including gold, silver, and jade ornaments.

"Young Miss".

Granny Zhao stood to the side with her hands at her sides, her tone more genuinely respectful than in the morning:

"These were all personally selected by Madam. Please take a look and see if they suit your taste. If you are not satisfied, this old servant will immediately take them to be replaced."

She added deliberately, carefully observing Jiang Dusheng's reaction, "The clothes were also chosen according to your preferences, with elegant and simple patterns."

Jiang Dusheng was lounging in a rosewood armchair, his chin resting on one hand, while the other hand idly fiddled with the prayer beads in his hand.

Upon hearing this, she merely raised her eyes slightly, her gaze sweeping over the dazzling array of clothes and jewelry as if she were looking at an ordinary decoration, and said indifferently, "It's fine."

Granny Zhao's tense shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, and she secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, "There is one more thing to inform you, Miss. Master and the two young masters have returned to the manor and will be coming over later to have dinner with you."

"Hmm," Jiang Dusheng replied casually, his tone devoid of any emotion.

Seeing this, Granny Zhao dared not say anything more. She bowed and quietly withdrew with her entourage, carefully closing the door behind her.

The room fell silent, with only the soft crackling of the flickering candlelight.

Jiang Dusheng cast his gaze to the deep night outside the window, then suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with confusion:

"Xu Yishuo, tell me... what exactly do they mean by this?"

Xu Yishuo's spirit floated to her side, followed her gaze, and said softly, "The human heart is complex, especially that of parents."

Her voice was deep and resonant, carrying a profound understanding of the vicissitudes of life. "I suspect they were mostly feeling guilty."

"Guilt?"

Jiang Dusheng repeated the word, his fingertips pausing as he stopped moving the prayer beads.

"Since you chose to abandon it back then, why put on this show of deep affection now? Is it to put your mind at ease, or is it just an act for others?"

Xu Yishuo shook her head slightly, a look of pity on her face:

"Perhaps it's a combination of both. Sending you away back then was a choice they were forced to make."

"Their kindness to you now is perhaps an attempt to fill the void in their hearts caused by the guilt they feel for forgetting you because of their youngest daughter."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Dusheng remained silent.

The room fell silent, save for the occasional soft popping of the candle wick.

Her gaze seemed to fall on a point in the void, her mind drifting back to the night before she left the temple.

In the backyard of Nanchansi Temple, ancient cypress trees stand tall, and the faint sound of chanting can be heard.

The abbot, Master Huiming, was standing in front of the Buddha statue, whose brows and eyes remained compassionate as ever.

"My disciple," Master Huiming stroked his long, snow-white beard, his usually playful face unusually serious, "your ill-fated relationship... ah... bah!"

Realizing his mistake, he quickly corrected himself, saying, "Your good fortune has come to pass; it's time for you to descend the mountain."

Jiang Dusheng stood rooted to the spot, gazing up at the compassionate golden statue overlooking all living beings, his voice calm, "Master, please give me a straight answer: how much time do I have left to live?"

Master Huiming turned around, trying his best to maintain a solemn and dignified demeanor: "Well, didn't I say that when the time is right, you will naturally understand?"

He put his hands together and chanted a Buddhist prayer, "Amitabha, all the circumstances in this world are opportunities for spiritual practice. Going down the mountain, the experiences itself are meritorious deeds."