Passing through a small inner door, she entered a slightly smaller back room—the living area. Here, there was a staircase leading to the attic, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom, and even a wooden bed.
Song Miaozhu climbed up to the attic that had once felt spacious to her as a child but now seemed rather cramped. This was where the materials for paper offerings were stored. No need to worry about dampness up here either. Since her parents passed away, Song Miaozhu hadn't touched any of the things stored here.
Now, as she rummaged through the items, she found not only a basket of pre-cut gold paper but also several uncut stacks, large sheets of yellow paper, colored paper, a bundle of bamboo strips, and inks of various colors.
Despite the years, everything remained in good condition—only the ink had dried up and become unusable. She recalled that before her parents died, a new shipment of supplies had just arrived at the shop. That worked out well for her now.
She carried the basket of pre-cut gold paper downstairs.
After wiping the dust off a bamboo stool with a rag from the back room, she sat near the entrance where the light was best and began folding ingots in earnest.
~
A young woman in a simple white hoodie and faded jeans sat at the entrance of the abandoned paper shop, her fingers deftly folding gold ingots. Her black hair hung down her chest, obscuring her face, but her entire figure seemed to glow with a pale, ethereal light.
This was the sight that greeted Cheng Ziyang when he rushed over from his rented guesthouse after receiving a call from his workers.
An involuntary shiver ran down his spine.
He had come to finalize the lease for the last remaining shop, intending to expand his horror-themed escape room business and dominate this prime location. But now, he realized—no haunted escape room could match the eerie atmosphere of this scene.
"Perfect! A kindred spirit!"
"Uh… excuse me—"
Song Miaozhu looked up, visibly annoyed at the interruption.
Cheng Ziyang finally got a clear look at her face, but the sharpness in her gaze instantly doused his excitement.
"Weird. As a fan of Chinese horror, I've seen it all—so why did one glance from her unsettle me?"
A second later, the intensity in her eyes vanished, replaced by the mild confusion of an ordinary, pretty girl.
"What do you want?" Song Miaozhu asked. She had just been getting into the rhythm of folding ingots and didn't appreciate the distraction.
"I—uh, hello! I'm the owner of the horror escape room next door," Cheng Ziyang stammered. "We spoke on the phone before. I wanted to rent your shop to turn it into a haunted attraction. Name your terms—we can negotiate anything."
He had looked into the shop's owner—a young college girl with no living relatives. He had thought securing the lease would be easy, but she had refused. Still, he hadn't given up, which was why he had his workers keep an eye on the place.
"Sorry, but I have other plans for this shop. I can't rent it to you," Song Miaozhu said.
"Alright. Then… can I add you on WeChat? Since we're neighbors now and all." He pulled out his phone.
Song Miaozhu: "???"
She had expected more persuasion, but he gave up surprisingly fast. Though she didn't understand why, she added him anyway—just another contact to ignore in her bloated friend list.
"I won't disturb you further."
Cheng Ziyang had wanted to chat more with this strangely charismatic girl—maybe ask what her future plans were for the shop. But seeing her glance repeatedly at the half-folded gold ingot in her hands, he wisely took his leave.
Finally, Song Miaozhu could return to folding in peace.
It wasn't that she was picky about the environment. She had just realized that even a small distraction caused her ingots to fail. She folded the last few steps of the current gold ingot and tossed it into the large bamboo basket on her left.
That basket was full of the same: ingots that didn't meet the standard.
At best, they were slightly better than the hell money the chubby ghost had brought. At most, they could hold a little more residual affection from loved ones and thus turn into more ghost-life energy, last a bit longer, and fade more slowly.
For living customers, they were plenty. But in the underworld, these were ungraded and unqualified—a joke to sell to ghost clients.
Truthfully, despite folding for most of the afternoon, she had only managed to make two ingots that reached the first-grade standard.
The rest were all unqualified.
It wasn't a technique issue. The muscle memory from her childhood had returned with just a little practice. It wasn't a focus problem either. She could still maintain good concentration when left alone.
The real issue was the lack of aura built through years of experience folding paper offerings. Without it, her ingots lacked a certain essence, relegating them to inferior quality. Worse, once a sheet of gold paper had been folded, it could never be reused to make a proper ingot. The more times it was refolded, the worse the result.
So, failed attempts couldn't be salvaged—she had to start fresh with a new sheet each time. By evening, she had only managed two first-grade ingots. The rest? All rejects. With no deceased relatives left in the underworld, she didn't even know who to burn the flawed ones for.
"Looks like Anshou Paper Shop will have to reopen after all," she mused.
Practicing The Secret Art of Paper Crafting would inevitably produce many subpar items. Throwing them away would be wasteful—better to sell them and recoup some costs.
It would also serve as cover for her returning home to start a business.
If a paper shop didn't sound like a viable livelihood? No problem—she'd add a drinks fridge by the door, stacks of bottled water, a tobacco and alcohol counter, and some snack shelves. A mini-convenience store hybrid.
She could even smuggle her stock to the underworld ghost shop through this cover. The more she thought about it, the more this dual-purpose setup suited her.
Seeing the cleaning staff from the escape room next door finishing up for the day, Song Miaozhu hurried over, added two cleaners on WeChat, and paid them 600 yuan to deep-clean the shop tomorrow.
Folding three first-grade ingots in an afternoon would only earn her about 600 yuan in the underworld anyway. But time spent cleaning was time not spent practicing, and that was a trade-off she couldn't afford.
With tonight's ghost shop shift ahead, she packed up, making sure to remotely store the three usable ingots in Anshou Hall's counter drawer—these were for the underworld market.
As usual, she stopped by Auntie Chen's for dinner.
Upon hearing she was reopening the old paper shop as a mini store, Aunt Chen immediately handed her a wholesaler's contact info without a second thought.