Song Miaozhu was completely baffled by Cheng Ziyang's response.
Had she said that?
No, when had she ever said that?
Song Miaozhu quickly responded and questioned him back.
[Master Cheng of the Eerie]:You said it yourself! If someone works long enough on crafts related to the underworld, they'll start seeing ghosts!
[Miaow Zhu]:I was only talking about crafting skills! I never said it had to be underworld-related! Ugh, fine, I'll just tell you the truth. Ever since spiritual energy began to recover, as long as you reach a certain level in any kind of craft, you can gradually open your Heavenly eye.
She didn't bother keeping it vague anymore. With a flurry of messages, she explained the spiritual revival and how cultivation worked.
[Miaow Zhu]:Anyway, take it or leave it. Believe it or not, that's up to you.
Back then, because of her close ties to the SEIU, she hadn't wanted to spread news about spiritual energy revival to unrelated outsiders, fearing it might disrupt social stability. Unless she truly trusted someone and they trusted her, she kept quiet.
Now that she had rejected the SEIU's offer to collaborate, she figured that relationship was probably on the verge of breaking. So, she no longer felt like tiptoeing around.
Maybe she could even use this information to build a few useful connections. It might come in handy later. After all, her little paper servant was already hiding out in someone else's shop.
The sudden disclosure left Cheng Ziyang speechless. The man who usually replied in seconds went silent, clearly overwhelmed.
Song Miaozhu had already set her phone down when a video call notification suddenly popped up. She answered, and Cheng Ziyang's big face filled the screen.
"Master!" he blurted. "My teacher says his eyesight is failing and his hearing's going too. Especially at night, he sees double and hears things that aren't there. Is it possible he's started absorbing spiritual energy and his Heavenly eye is opening a bit?"
"There's a chance," Song Miaozhu replied. "Let me take a look at your teacher."
Cheng Ziyang immediately flipped the camera, revealing an elderly man with nearly white hair but surprisingly good energy for his age.
"This is my teacher."
Just one glance, and Song Miaozhu could see a faint spiritual glow in the old man's eyes.
"He hasn't fully awakened his Heavenly eye yet, but it's starting. Haven't any officials from your local SEIU contacted you?"
"Nope," Cheng Ziyang answered.
"Then keep learning from your teacher. He's got real skills. Making incense sticks may seem ordinary, but it's useful while you're alive—and even more so after death," she said.
The incense this old master crafted was already second-grade in the underworld, which was no small feat. Compared to paper offerings, incense-making was far more complex.
In the underworld, second-grade incense could fetch the same price as third-grade paper crafts. Also, the ingredients for spiritual incense were completely different from those used by the living. Talented incense makers were even rarer.
Although the master looked elderly and decently dressed, the humble conditions in which he worked showed that he hadn't come from a privileged background. Maybe it was because his craft wasn't valued and his social standing was low that he had remained off the SEIU's radar.
"What do you mean it's even more useful after death?" Cheng Ziyang shivered.
Before Song Miaozhu could answer, the old man cut in: "What do you know, brat? Our trade builds merit in the underworld! Life might be hard now, but we'll reap the rewards after death!"
"The old master speaks wisely," Song Miaozhu agreed. "Only those in our line of work can earn hell coins with our skills after death!"
The old master squinted at the phone, examining her face. "This girl looks a bit familiar!"
"Master! This is Master Song from the Anshou Hall Paper Shop in Yuanshan Town. She's amazing—can see ghosts and everything!" Cheng Ziyang said proudly.
"Anshou Hall Paper Shop? Wait, Aunty Huaihua... hmm... is Song Huaihua any relation to you?"
Song Miaozhu was surprised—her great-grandmother's connections ran deep. This old man was from Yuncheng, yet he recognized her. "She's my great-grandmother."
"Ah! So it is you! I'm from the Deng family of Sizhou Village in Yuncheng. When I was young, my godfather took me to your town!" the old man said. "He told me your family made the best paper crafts in the region!"
"You flatter me," Song Miaozhu said with a smile. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, she learned that although his surname was Deng, the old man wasn't his father's biological son.
He'd been rescued from a flood, found floating in the river.
As she watched him craft his white wax incense, Song Miaozhu noticed that it resembled the work of Old Deng, who used to run the incense shop next to Anshou Hall.
Could that godfather be Old Deng?
Unfortunately, Old Deng had already sold his shop and reincarnated. These days, Song Miaozhu relied on her little paper servant to watch the clock in the living world so she could manage her time in the underworld.
She didn't even know Old Deng's full name, so there was no way to confirm it. After explaining the spiritual revival to Master Deng and Cheng Ziyang, she ended the video call.
Then she contacted Wu Zhuxiang and bought all the bamboo paper Old Wu had recently made. She was stocking up on spirit-infused paper. Song Miaozhu lacked for nothing. Food and drink could be resolved with spiritual power. But she could never have too much of this paper.
The problem was, Old Wu made everything by hand. Even after all this time, he hadn't managed to produce more than half of what she bought last time. She still had plenty left from before, but she couldn't shake the sense of unease. She wanted to secure more sources of spiritual paper—better to hoard now than run out later.
She would rather spend hell coins on more racks to store unused spirit paper than risk being left with none when it mattered most. She opened Douyin, the short video app she hadn't checked in a while, wanting to see how the "Shiqiao Single Mom Dai Xiaojia" was doing.
The moment her page loaded, Song Miaozhu was stunned. In just a few months, her follower count had exploded to over a million. She felt a knot in her stomach. She clicked on a few of the recent videos. As expected, they were all footage of the woman doing chores, farming, or livestreaming.
There was barely any content of her making white mulberry paper anymore. Only one video from a month ago even showed that process. Judging by the spiritual energy movement in the clip, Dai Xiaojia's skill hadn't improved at all—in fact, it had declined.
She had been so close to absorbing spiritual energy, just one step away. Now she was moving farther from that goal. Clearly, she had found success in the world of short videos. She knew viewers loved watching her struggle, so she catered to that.
Though a little disappointed, Song Miaozhu understood.
What was ten thousand yuan for paper compared to the kind of money that could be made through viral content and affiliate links?
Dai Xiaojia had two kids to raise.
But shooting those short videos, editing, raising children, livestreaming and selling products—none of it was easier than making white paper. Dai Xiaojia was looking thinner and darker with each video.
In her most recent one, Song Miaozhu even noticed signs of illness, especially around the stomach area. If she kept going like this, her body probably wouldn't hold out much longer.