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

Throughout the entire process, the female ghost simply hovered quietly to the side, her soul body fluctuating slightly.

He seemed somewhat curious and uneasy, but did not show any particular reaction to any of the items.

Until the very last guard, he fumbled in his robes near his heart and pulled out a worn, dark blue coarse cloth pouch, intending to place it on the ground…

The female ghost, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly let out a sharp screech.

Her previously stable soul body surged violently in an instant. She stared intently at the purse, her body radiating intense disgust.

Ignoring the intimidation posed by Jiang Dusheng's talisman, the soul lunged forward, poised to charge at the purse.

Jiang Dusheng was prepared. With a flick of his wrist, he placed a soul-suppressing talisman, which he had been holding in his palm, on the female ghost's forehead.

The talisman flashed with golden light, instantly binding the female ghost's rampaging soul, rendering her unable to move. She could only let out futile wailing cries, but her gaze remained fixed on the purse in the guard's hand.

Although the guard couldn't see the female ghost, the sudden increase in the chill in the air made him immediately realize that the source of the problem was this purse.

His hand trembled, and he almost dropped the purse. He stammered, "Madam, this...this purse..."

Jiang Dusheng asked in a deep voice, "Where did this purse come from?"

The guard swallowed hard, composed himself, and quickly replied, "Madam, this was sewn by my mother when I last went home to visit her. She said she went to the temple to get a peace charm and sewed it inside to protect me."

"I am grateful for my mother's kindness, and I have always kept it close to my body, never letting it out of my sight. Inside... inside there should only be the peace charm that my mother prayed for, which I have never opened to look at."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Dusheng frowned even more deeply.

Made by a loving mother and imbued with her maternal love, it should normally be a protective object. Why would it elicit such a strong reaction from a female ghost?

She stretched out her right hand, a layer of spiritual light gathering at her fingertips, and slowly brushed it across the surface of the purse, carefully sensing it.

A spiritual light penetrated the paper, revealing a neatly folded amulet inside; the amulet itself was fine.

Jiang Dusheng suppressed the spiritual light emanating from his fingertips.

Her gaze fell on the female ghost, whose soul had lost its memories, possessing only scattered pain and an instinctive aversion to a particular aura.

Forcibly searching her soul would only hasten her soul's demise and might not yield any useful clues.

"Alright," she said, turning to the still-frightened guard, her tone softening. "Tomorrow I'll draw a portrait for you to identify. Now, let's find a place to rest."

Upon hearing this, the guard dared not ask any further questions and quickly clasped his hands in a fist salute: "Yes!"

Jiang Dusheng took out the bone flute and put the female ghost inside.

The group quickly found a fairly clean and tidy inn in the nearest town.

Night had fallen, and only a single lamp remained lit in the inn's lobby.

The guards, well-trained, arranged the rooms, and Xie Jinchen and Jiang Dusheng were led to an upper room on the second floor.

The room was small and simply furnished, but clean enough.

A screen painted with plum blossoms roughly divides the room into two sections, an inner and an outer one, with a large bathtub placed behind it.

The hot water had been brought up by the waiter, steaming with white mist and carrying the fresh scent of soapberry.

Xie Jinchen took off his outer robe, which was stained with dust and a little blood, and casually draped it over the back of the chair.

His gaze lingered for a moment on the dried but still conspicuous mud and stains on Jiang Dusheng's clothes: "Why don't you go wash up first?"

The tone was a typical inquiry, revealing little emotion.

Jiang Dusheng shook his head and walked to the only square table in the room, where writing brush, ink, paper and inkstone had already been prepared.

As she ground the ink, she said, "You wash it first. I'll sketch out the portrait first."

Xie Jinchen didn't try to persuade him further, but simply nodded and said, "Okay." Then he turned around and went behind the screen.

Soon, a faint rustling sound of clothes falling to the ground came from behind the screen.

Then came a "splash" as the body sank into the hot water, and the warm steam mixed with the scent of soap wafted out from the edge of the screen.

Jiang Dusheng spread out the Xuan paper, picked up the brush, concentrated his mind, and quickly began to trace.

Just as she finished the last stroke and blew the ink dry, Xie Jinchen's voice came from behind the screen, through the steam:

"Jiang Dusheng," he called out, "I forgot to bring a change of clothes in. Could you hand me that moon-white undergarment hanging outside?"

Jiang Dusheng didn't think much of it and replied, "Okay."

She picked up the clothes, walked around the screen, and was greeted by a wave of damp heat.

In the bathtub, Xie Jinchen stood with his back to her, his dark hair completely wet, draped over his broad shoulders and back, water droplets slowly sliding down his firm muscles and disappearing into the water.

Some soap bubbles floated on the water, just enough to cover her shoulders and neck, leaving only her slender neck and smooth back exposed.

Hearing footsteps, he didn't turn around, but simply draped his arm casually over the edge of the bucket.

Jiang Dusheng walked to the side of the bathtub and handed over the undergarment he was holding, his gaze feigning calmness as he looked at the wall not far in front of him. "Here you go."

"Is the portrait finished?" he asked, but did not reach out to take it.

"Hmm," she responded, her gaze still fixed on the wall, but her knuckles tightened slightly, causing fine wrinkles to form in the fabric.

"Let me see." His voice was lower, slightly hoarse from the moisture.

Jiang Dusheng's throat was a little dry, and he withdrew his hand from the clothes he was handing over: "I'll go get them."

Just as I turned around, my wrist was suddenly grabbed by a hand that was scalding hot with wet water and pulled towards the bathtub.

Caught off guard, her gasp was choked in her throat, and she slumped toward the edge of the bathtub.

She managed to brace herself against the edge of the bucket with her other hand, preventing herself from falling completely in, but her upper body was already submerged in the steaming vapor, with only a few feet between them.

Jiang Dusheng's heart skipped a beat, and he looked up to meet Xie Jinchen's eyes.

Water droplets dripped down his wet hair, slid over his high nose bridge, and lingered on his slightly parted lips.

His eyes appeared exceptionally deep in the mist, like an ink-stained pool, locking onto her intently.

"Xie Jinchen," Jiang Dusheng tried to remain calm, "the water is getting cold."

Xie Jinchen seemed not to hear, his gaze falling on her fair neck, which was slightly flushed with nervousness.

He lifted his other hand out of the water, making a splashing sound, and brushed his fingertips across her cheek, removing a stray strand of hair.

The fingertips were burning hot as they slid slowly down the jawline and stopped at the collar button.

"Your skirt is dirty," he said in a low voice, as if stating something, yet also inviting it.

Jiang Dusheng's breathing became slightly erratic.

Xie Jinchen's fingertips hovered just above her collarbone; with a gentle flick, her clothes would come undone.

She didn't move or say anything more.

Silence is tacit consent.

Xie Jinchen's hand slid to the back of her neck, his palm burning hot and damp with water.

With a slight exertion, Jiang Dusheng was forced to lean forward slightly.

The kiss was warm and moist, carrying the scent of soapberry, but it quickly turned into a deep, conquering sucking.

His other hand slipped into her still-wearing outer garment, precisely covering her undulating curves through the fabric, gently deforming them in his hand.

"Hmm..." she groaned as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bucket.

Xie Jinchen, still in that position, supported her waist and carried her inside the tub.

With a loud "splash," water overflowed the rim of the bucket and spilled all over the floor.

The bathtub wasn't spacious to begin with, and it felt even more cramped with two people inside.

The hot water instantly submerged their chests, and layers of clothing floated up, tangling together.

Xie Jinchen pulled her between his chest and the tub wall, lowered his head to kiss her wet neck, and mumbled between his lips, "Let's wash together."