Song Miaozhu placed three little paper servants near the printer and computer in the basement, assigning them the task of organizing purchase requests, printing out product information, and preparing quotations.
At first, she just wanted to test whether they could handle the task. To her surprise, the three paper servants worked seamlessly—one checked the purchase orders, another stepped on the keyboard, and the last one pushed the mouse. They perfectly mimicked Song Miaozhu's work habits, completing the entire process: searching for product details, saving images, compiling documents, and printing.
They even worked together to operate the stapler and bind the documents.
But that wasn't all. They actually logged into the online shopping platform on the computer and entered the correct password. When a verification code prompt appeared, they all looked up at her.
Somehow, as Song Miaozhu stared into the hollow eye sockets of the paper servants, the words "Now it's your turn" flashed in her mind.
She took out her phone—the verification message had already arrived: "98327."
The little paper doll immediately jumped onto the keyboard and typed the numbers.
Login successful.
Searching for products, placing orders, and completing payment—all in one smooth motion. The deduction notification had already appeared on Song Miaozhu's phone.
"Truly paper servants that share my brain—they work just as efficiently as I do." Satisfied, she entrusted them with the task:
"Tomorrow, I'll get a new phone card and buy a work phone for you all."
Otherwise, if they kept logging into shopping platforms on the computer, they'd likely need verification codes frequently.
Three other paper servants, still idle, perched on her shoulders, fussing with the strands of hair near her temples, clearly dissatisfied with having nothing to do.
Song Miaozhu didn't yet have a task in mind for them.
But when she walked into the papercraft workshop and saw the gold foil paper on the table, she suddenly had an idea: "You can help me cut paper!"
The gold foil sheets she bought came in stacks, and each time, she had to cut them to the right size before she could use them for papercraft. If they helped, she could save a lot of time.
With their orders given, the three paper servants held hands and floated onto the table. Folding creases, lifting scissors, cutting—aside from being slightly slower than Song Miaozhu due to their small size and limited strength, they worked just fine.
Pleased, Song Miaozhu sat back in the armchair and began folding golden lotus flowers to cultivate. As each golden lotus took shape in her hands, the spiritual energy stored in the spiritual platform space between her brows gradually gathered around the crimson spiritual crystal, forming new ones.
By the time half a bamboo basket was filled with golden lotuses, the little paper servants had finished cutting the entire stack of gold foil.
Following Song Miaozhu's habits, they only prepared one stack in advance, so they didn't fetch more from the storage. Instead, they floated back to her side.
Now, whenever she finished folding one sheet, a paper doll handed her the next. Finished lotuses were carried by the servants into the bamboo basket. When the basket was full, they worked together to move it to the storage area in the ghost shop and replaced it with an empty one.
Song Miaozhu no longer had to worry about anything except crafting. The three little paper servants handled everything else flawlessly. Feeling a bit tired, she paused to circulate her spiritual energy, restoring her stamina.
As she watched the busy paper servants, a thought struck her: "If they can assist me like this, can they also make papercraft?"
If these were traditional paper servants, she wouldn't have dared imagine it.
But her paper servants were somehow more sentient than even the highest-level paper servants described in The Secret Art of Paper Crafting.
Each one seemed like a tiny extension of herself.
She had a feeling it was related to her spiritual energy.
The current rules of cultivation favored handicrafts.
If the paper servants could use computers, phones, and handle documents, why couldn't they make papercraft?
It was worth a try—starting with the simplest: paper ingots.
The moment the idea crossed her mind, the three paper servants paused in their tasks of serving tea, handing her paper, and moving baskets, then went to the storage room to fetch gold foil for cutting.
Song Miaozhu watched closely as they cut a few sheets and began folding. A single paper doll couldn't even lift a sheet of gold foil, but three working together managed just fine.
Soon, a plump paper ingot took shape.
Song Miaozhu picked it up: "A non-grade gold ingot?"
She wasn't disappointed—in fact, she was pleasantly surprised.
Her paper shop was gaining more and more fame.
If more people opened their Heavenly Eyes, they'd eventually realize how spirits viewed mass-printed paper offerings. By then, even her high-grade papercraft would find buyers in the mortal world, despite the steep prices.
Unfortunately, that time hadn't come yet.
Only a few people knew, and their understanding was still shallow. Most weren't willing to spend heavily on high-grade paper offerings for the dead. A first-grade gold ingot cost 200 yuan, a second-grade 2,000, and a third-grade 20,000. At those prices, they wouldn't sell in the mortal world. Right now, only the non-grade ingots—the ones spirits wouldn't buy—were marketable.
Unlike paper money, these non-grade ingots wouldn't waste the deceased's ghost lifespan or dissipate as quickly. They were only slightly more expensive than printed bills, making them a cost-effective choice.
E Hongjuan wanted them. Boss Wu wanted them. Grandpa Zhao, Auntie Chen, and even the SEIU would likely buy them later. The non-grade ingots Song Miaozhu had made earlier were already running low. The money from selling them wasn't significant, but maintaining these social connections was important.
The problem was, she could now only produce first-grade, second-grade, or third-grade ingots—she couldn't even make non-grade ones anymore.
The fact that the paper servants could was an unexpected boon.
So she let them fold ingots on the side.
She wondered—if they kept at it, could they eventually produce graded ingots too?
If so, she could run an entire papercraft workshop just by herself and her paper servants. As she watched, she noticed something else: even though she wasn't crafting, the spiritual energy in her Spiritual Platform was slowly condensing into crimson crystals.
The process was extremely slow—she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been observing the servants so intently.
"Does the paper servants folding ingots count as me cultivating?" Song Miaozhu was stunned. "If that's the case… who could possibly match my cultivation speed?"
The spiritual energy in her home had long been absorbed. To test her theory, she took out a mid-grade spirit stone.
Drawing out a thin thread of spiritual energy, she dispersed it into the air of the workshop.