By now, Song Miaozhu was considered a VIP customer by Boss Wu. Just her small paper shop had an inventory turnover on par with a supermarket. Having him deliver goods at night shouldn't be an issue.
But on the other end of the call, Boss Wu suddenly hesitated.
"M-Miss Song… why the sudden change to nighttime delivery? Some of the old-timers in Yuanshan say your place has… certain abilities. Won't it be dangerous after dark?"
The way he said it made it sound like he'd already gone asking around the town. Business was going fine—who would go digging into her background without reason?
Song Miaozhu understood instantly. "You saw the trending posts too?"
Boss Wu replied, "I saw it on Douyin…"
"???"
Song Miaozhu's heart skipped a beat. "Hold on, Boss Wu."
She muted the call and quickly pulled up Douyin.
A single search for "Mystic" flooded her screen with viral clips of her folding paper lotuses—the same footage from the local buzz, now racking up hundreds of thousands of views.
Comments urged her to start live-streaming: "A beauty in the mystic arts? We need her selling something!"
Song Miaozhu took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down, returning to the call.
"Boss Wu, you've seen the video. You know how the shop's gotten lately—too many gawking tourists during the day. That's why I asked you to deliver at night."
She didn't bother hiding it. "Yes, my family does deal with certain things on the spiritual side. We make paper craft—it's normal."
Boss Wu was shaken. He and his son delivered goods every three days—one whole truck each time. Of all people, he knew just how strange her shop was.
He hadn't understood before, but after reading the comments on that video, it all clicked. He even went into town to ask around—and got some interesting information. Song Miaozhu always paid generously and in full, with orders far above average. He hadn't wanted to lose her business. Originally, he figured it was better to play dumb and just keep delivering.
But now that she'd come clean, admitting she wasn't "ordinary," he was even more wary.
Who dares offend someone who walks between worlds?
Just as he was growing uneasy, a calm and pleasant voice came through the phone again:
"—I promise it's safe at night. The area's cleansed. You've noticed my stock vanishes unusually fast, right? Well, I've been assisting the police with ghost-related cases in the city. Protecting my partners falls under my expertise. I'd hate to switch suppliers—this shipment's urgent. Once I secure a warehouse near town, deliveries can shift there."
"Of course!" Boss Wu gave in at once. "M-Master Song, we'll deliver tonight! By the way… how much for your paper offerings? I'd like some for ancestral rites."
"Police collaboration" had sealed his trust. If authorities vouched for her, the risks were nil—and the profits too sweet to pass up.
With the delivery settled, Song Miaozhu exhaled. At least her ghost shop wouldn't face shortages tonight.
But the warehouse plan could wait no longer.
Huaihua Alley, once a sleepy lane, now buzzed like a main street. Regular bulk deliveries would soon draw more than Supplier Wu's curiosity—and viral scrutiny was the last thing she needed.
Sure, there was the SEIU now, and spiritual energy's influence would only continue to grow. Sooner or later, everyone would know about the resurgence of spiritual forces. Unnatural things would become increasingly common, and a little exposure on her end wouldn't matter too much.
Still—every extra day of privacy meant one less potential hassle getting in the way of her cultivation.
For now, the paper shop had to close.
Luckily, her ancestral home on Xiaozhu Mountain was ready. Delayed by a day, its handover aligned perfectly with her retreat.
She packed up all the valuables from the paper shop, along with the kittens' stuff, and stashed it temporarily in the ghost-side warehouse. Then she dug out her large pet bag, loaded them onto her e-bike, and navigated the crowd with a glare that parted onlookers like the Red Sea.
First, she headed to the woodcarving shop. "Sister Mumu! Where's Team Leader Zhao?"
"He's out back, carving wood with the logistics team from the SEIU," Zhao Mumu said. "What's up?"
"I need to talk to him!" Song Miaozhu darted to the backyard. "Team Leader Zhao! This video—can you do something to suppress the traffic? Doesn't the SEIU monitor spiritual content online? No regulations in place?"
Zhao Huoyan answered while working, "Higher-ups have found all kinds of benefits to spiritual energy. There's talk of promoting it nationwide. Once research is more systematic, implementation will begin. So no, we're not restricting those messages—in fact, we're intentionally letting them spread."
Song Miaozhu: "…"
No wonder the video spread unchecked. The bureau moved faster than she'd imagined.
"This clip's disrupting my life," she pressed.
Zhao Huoyan nodded to a colleague "Old Zhang! Help her suppress the views!"
"Thanks! I'll go ask some well-connected ghosts tonight for news about foreign spirits," Song Miaozhu added.
She'd originally planned to tell them in a few days. Now she decided to bring it up sooner.
"Much appreciated!" A rare look of concern crossed Zhao Huoyan's face.
That mountain full of Japanese ghosts—if they came down, it'd be a huge problem.
Old Zhang made one call. Not long after, the video's heat on both Douyin and Weibo was significantly reduced.
"I'm shuttering the shop temporarily," Song Miaozhu announced. "If you need me, I'll be at the Xiaozhu Mountain estate—the compound with the giant locust tree."
She didn't stay long. Once the video's popularity was under control, she rode off to take possession of the house.
After confirming everything was in order, she transferred the final one million yuan. Once the renovation company staff left, Song Miaozhu began moving everything from the ghost shop warehouse into her new home.
The three kittens didn't care for the fancy custom cat trees or cozy beds she'd set up for them. Instead, they were oddly fascinated by the old locust tree. Next thing she knew, there were three fuzzy lumps perched among the branches.
She didn't bother calling them down. Instead, she activated the courtyard's security system, then opened a hidden door behind the wardrobe in her bedroom—and descended into the basement.
This was the most crucial part of the house renovation.
She intended to use it as a cultivation chamber. From here, she could monitor all the courtyard's security feeds. If anyone approached, she'd know immediately.
When necessary, she could even leave her body here while her spirit traveled to the Underworld.
Much safer than lying in bed upstairs.