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

After an unknown amount of time, Princess Yongning's sobs gradually subsided in the flower hall, leaving only occasional suppressed sobs.

With red eyes, Princess Zhaohua carefully wiped away her mother's tears with a warm handkerchief handed to her by the nanny.

Princess Yongning leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and her thoughts were uncontrollably drawn back to that sweltering summer afternoon.

That was the third month since Shen Qinghe fell ill.

At first, it was just a cold. The imperial physician saw me and I took the medicine, but I didn't get better for a long time. Instead, I got worse day by day.

In his final days, he was so weak that he could barely lift his hand and was in a deep sleep all day.

Occasionally, when he wakes up, his eyes are unfocused. He looks at her, his lips move, but he can no longer make a clear sound.

She stayed by his bedside day and night, holding his withered hand, telling him again and again:

"Qinghe, you'll be alright. Zhao'er is still so young. We're waiting for you..."

But he could only laboriously turn his eyes to look at her, his gaze filled with unspoken words, longing, reluctance, and worry, which were ultimately swallowed up by his increasingly faint breath.

He left suddenly, on a stormy night.

There were no dying words, no final embrace, and he couldn't even call her name clearly one last time.

He stopped breathing quietly under her gaze.

At that moment, she felt her heart shatter completely with that last breath.

For a long time afterward, she was in a daze.

But strangely, she could always sense his presence.

Sometimes it was in the study, as if someone had just put down the book she was halfway through reading.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and feel the bed beside me sink slightly, carrying a familiar cool scent.

Sometimes, when I was teaching Zhao'er, I would vaguely feel a gentle, approving gaze falling upon them...

She excitedly told her personal nanny, and everyone she thought she could confide in, "Qinghe is still here! He didn't leave! He's watching over me and Zhao'er!"

But everyone looked at her with pity, worry, and even a hint of blame.

They said, "Princess, you are overthinking and too heartbroken."

"The Prince Consort has passed away. Please take care of yourself. The County Magistrate will also take care of you."

"It must be that you've been thinking about it during the day and dreaming about it at night, resulting in hallucinations."

She didn't believe it. The feeling was so real; it couldn't be an illusion.

Later, she even secretly went to the popular Huguo Temple to see a highly accomplished old monk who was said to be quite accomplished in meditation.

She was full of hope, believing that the boundless power of Buddhism would surely give her an answer.

After listening to her description, the old monk closed his eyes and twirled his prayer beads for a long time before slowly opening them. His gaze was calm, but the words he spoke made her feel as if she had fallen into an ice cave:

"Madam, you do indeed have lingering yin energy around you, which is caused by prolonged contact with the dead or deep-seated obsessions."

"However, yin and yang are in balance. If the deceased lingers in the mortal realm for too long, it will harm both the deceased and the living. What you call feeling may be a projection of a lingering attachment from the deceased, but it is ultimately an illusion."

"You should let go of your attachments, diligently recite scriptures to help the souls of the deceased, and also purify yourself. Holding on to your attachments may harm your mind and blessings."

These words were like cold nails, nailing down her last glimmer of hope.

Even the eminent monks of Huguo Temple say so, could it be that she's really gone mad? Or is it just her delusion that she refuses to accept reality?

She dared not mention it to anyone again, and could only bury that feeling deep in her heart, letting it grow wildly in countless lonely nights, becoming a hidden thorn, stuck deep in her soul.

It cannot be touched, cannot be pulled out, and causes pain day and night.

She could only play the role of the strong and dignified Princess Yongning in front of others, raising her daughter, managing the mansion, and attending various banquets, as if everything had already passed.

But she knew there was no past.

That night before the storm, the unspoken farewell, the illusion of being together day and night—it has never left.

Until today.

Hearing Jiang Dusheng and Madam Wang's conversation, a glimmer of hope rekindled in her.

Just now, she finally saw the figure she longed to see.

It turns out she wasn't crazy. Her feelings had always been genuine.

He really is there! He's been wandering alone for so many years in such a painful way.

"Mother..." Princess Zhaohua called out worriedly, gently leaning into her mother's arms.

Princess Yongning raised her hand and hugged her daughter tightly, burying her face in her hair, which exuded a faint fragrance.

After a long while, she finally raised her head and, in a hoarse voice, said to the old nanny who was standing guard not far away:

"Give the order: if even a single word of what happened today is leaked, whoever it is, will be beaten to death."

"Yes," the old nanny replied with a tremor in her heart and a bow.

When Jiang Dusheng was escorted back to the Jiang residence by a carriage sent by Princess Yongning's mansion, it was already getting dark.

She had just reached the gate of her small courtyard when she saw Jiang Wanqing waiting there.

Her cherry-pink dress looked somewhat dull in the dim night, her face still bore traces of tears, and her eyes were terribly red and swollen.

Upon seeing Jiang Dusheng, Jiang Wanqing immediately rushed forward, disregarding her composure, her voice hoarse from crying and filled with deep grievance:

"Do you...do you even realize the situation you've put me in with what you said at the Princess's residence today?"

"How am I supposed to hold my head up in front of all those young ladies and wives? They'll all laugh at me behind my back! And what will Brother Yanzhao think?"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Dusheng stopped in his tracks, his gaze sweeping across her face, his eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.

"When you're with me, aren't you quite the smooth talker, quick-witted and sharp-tongued?"

"Why was it that at the flower-viewing banquet just now, when faced with the veiled sarcasm from the Imperial Censor's wife, you remained silent like a mute, only turning red in my eyes afterward?"

She leaned forward slightly, taking a step closer to Jiang Wanqing, and looked directly into her panicked, evasive eyes:

"Or do you think that just because we have that pitiful blood relation, I should tolerate your tantrums and crying in front of me? Or even take responsibility for your stupidity?"

Jiang Wanqing was stunned by such a sharp and straightforward question. Her face flushed red and then turned pale. She stammered for a long time, but couldn't come up with a complete rebuttal.

I felt my grievances had been exposed, which made me even more embarrassed.

Jiang Dusheng, too lazy to listen to her nonsense any longer, reached out and gently pushed her aside:

"Instead of blocking my way here, you should go back and practice your speech. If you have a congenital defect, find a doctor to treat it."

"Jiang Dusheng!"

Jiang Wanqing stumbled after being pushed, and after regaining her balance, she screamed in shame and indignation.

The scream had barely faded when hurried footsteps echoed along the path outside the courtyard.

"Wanqing! What's wrong?" Jiang Zhiheng accompanied Jiang Mao and Jiang Zhiyuan to Nanchan Temple today. After returning home, he heard that his mother and sisters had returned from the Princess's Mansion.

I wanted to come over and ask what was going on, but as soon as I got close, I heard my sister scream and saw Jiang Dusheng pushing someone.

Jiang Zhiheng rushed forward, blocking Jiang Wanqing's path, and glared angrily at Jiang Dusheng:

"Jiang Dusheng! What are you doing? Why did you push Wanqing? She's your sister!"

Jiang Dusheng frowned at his shout, rubbed his ears impatiently, and found the whole family incredibly noisy.

"Tsk, this family, there are really not many with brains." She muttered to herself, her words clear enough for the two people in front of her to hear.