"There's really such a saying in town? I've never heard it before," Song Miaozhu said.
"Of course no one would tell a child! They say your family's trade attracts… those things. It might shorten your lifespan, but it builds virtue in the afterlife. People avoid talking about it—I only heard it from Shuanghe's grandparents."
Aunt Chen sighed. "Lately, both Shuanghe and I have been feeling unwell, having those recurring dreams. I never connected it to the supernatural until now."
Her voice lowered. "It must've been your Uncle Chen reaching out, and you noticed, right? That's why you pointed out the cracked tomb today?"
She grasped Song Miaozhu's hand. "Thank you. But listen—no amount of 'yin virtue' is worth your health. Be careful."
"Don't worry, Auntie. I will," Song Miaozhu reassured her.
Her parents had died young—barely past forty. Her grandparents lived slightly longer, to fifty-five and fifty-six, but all succumbed to illness. But Miaozhu knew the truth: only the owners of Heaven-tier ghost shops awakened the Heaven's Eye—the ability to see the dead.
The ghost shop tradition passed down through women, not men. Her grandfather and father hadn't inherited it; it was her great-grandmother who passed on the legacy only after her death. That's why none of them had ever seen spirits.
"Perhaps the key isn't seeing ghosts—but not seeing them at all."
Her family's paper offerings were meticulously crafted. Even the "ordinary" ones surpassed most artisans' work.
Properly buried ghosts with underworld residency were one thing—but wandering spirits? They'd be drawn like moths to flame. Especially with town rumors claiming her family could commune with the dead. Most couldn't linger long in the living world, but their presence still harmed ordinary people.
Song Miaozhu, however, had no such fears. Her shop's token shielded her from yin energy. And any malicious spirit bold enough to approach? She'd just whip them with her rattan cane. Her grip tightened around the cane beside her.
"Oh, and Miaozhu—don't tell Shuanghe about this," Aunt Chen whispered. "Young folks get curious, and I worry—"
"Of course." Song Miaozhu nodded. "Some things are better left unknown."
Especially with the impending spiritual resurgence.
Ordinary people didn't need to know too much. The more they knew, the more likely they'd drift toward the unseen—and with spiritual energy on the verge of resurgence, that was dangerous.
According to the Secret Art of Paper Crafting, the last resurgence had blurred the boundaries between worlds. Ghosts with proper residency would be fine, but wandering ghosy? They might linger for days instead of vanishing by dawn.
"What aren't you telling me?" Chen Shuanghe called from the driver's seat.
"I was just inviting Miaozhu over for dinner tonight," Aunt Chen replied smoothly. "Thought I'd make my best dish—soy-braised pig trotters—to thank her for spotting the cracked cornerstone on your dad's grave. If I told you, you'd be nagging me to let you cook, and let's be honest, your version doesn't have half the flavor of mine!"
"She's not wrong," Miaozhu added with a smile.
"What! I've gotten much better!" Chen Shuanghe protested.
"You can practice again next time. Tonight, it's my thank-you meal for Miaozhu!" Aunt Chen said firmly.
The mother and daughter bickered playfully about who would get to cook. Miaozhu shook her head with a quiet laugh and pretended not to hear, busying herself with the cat in her arms.
As they neared the town entrance, Miaozhu spoke up. "Shuanghe, can you stop here for a second? I need to head back to the shop—the printer supplier said they'd deliver soon."
"Printer?" Chen Shuanghe raised an eyebrow. "What are you running, exactly? A paper shop? A convenience store? Or a printing service?"
"Maybe all of the above?" Miaozhu replied with a grin.
"Geez—don't invest too much at once. You'll be crying if it flops," Chen Shuanghe warned.
"Relax. There's a big horror-themed escape room opening in Huaihua Alley," Miaozhu explained. "The props look super realistic—whoever owns it clearly means business. I'm sure I'll get some business spillover. Besides, the shop's mine—I'm not paying rent. Even selling a bottle of water is profit."
"Who opens an escape room in a historic town?!" Chen Shuanghe muttered as Song Miaozhu hopped out.
"Miaozhu! Don't forget dinner tonight!" Aunt Chen called.
"Got it!" Miaozhu waved at them.
She had barely stepped inside the shop when the printer delivery crew arrived. Once installed and hooked up to her laptop, she printed out the product listings and price sheets she'd been preparing.
"No more treks to the print shop every day—finally."
Next door, Cheng Ziyang, the escape room owner, watched her latest addition with bafflement.
First custom shelves, then snack deliveries, now a printer? Just as he'd given up hope for a properly spooky paper shop neighbor, she sat outside folding gold ingots again—though the three kittens tumbling at her feet softened the eeriness.
(Until you noticed her hands. The precision made his scalp prickle.)
As she packed up, he ambled over. "So, uh… updating the sign? What's the shop called?"
"Anshou Hall Paper Shop."
"So you're really sticking with paper offering?" Cheng Ziyang said, delighted. "That's amazing! I wish your business great success!"
Miaozhu looked at him oddly. "You're the first person to actually sound confident in my shop."
Even Grandpa Zhao—though proud that she returned to continue the family craft—didn't believe in the business. He had even asked Zhao Mumu to help her apply for an intangible cultural heritage grant instead.
But this Cheng guy?
He had said paper offering—not just "paper."
Cheng Ziyang coughed awkwardly. "So, uh… what kind of paper craft do you sell? Qingming Festival is coming up. I can't visit home, so I thought I'd buy some to honor my ancestors."
"Just the gold ingots I was folding," Miaozhu replied. "Only half a basket, though—not much. If you're serious, I'll make more tomorrow. Come by and take a look."
"Absolutely!" Cheng Ziyang said, eyes lighting up. "I'll definitely come!"
Anything to support her shop—he couldn't let her give up and close down before it even got going.