"Don't visit our graves anymore. Once we reincarnate, any offerings you burn will be useless—just wasted on wandering ghosts and might even bring you trouble. Always keep an eye on the candle. You must return before it burns out, or your lifespan will shorten.
Remember to set aside some hell notes every year to pay taxes at the magistrate's office. Late payments come with fines.
Read the Fengdu: A Handbook for New Ghosts and study the The Secret Art of Paper Crafting diligently. Keep the rattan cane close and protect yourself. I'm leaving now. If fate allows, we'll meet again in the living world!"
Apparently running out of time, Great-Grandma rattled off a string of final instructions in a rapid tone before floating out of the store at an alarming speed.
"Great-Grandma!"
Song Miaozhu rushed out after her, but the old woman had already merged into the bustling ghost crowd on the street, never looking back. Within moments, she was gone. She stood dazed at the door, a faint sadness rising in her heart. Her last family member was gone. Even if they met again, would she recognize her?
Though she had never met her during her lifetime and only had these few days of connection after death — days she once thought were a nightmare. Yet in this short time, the old woman had done nothing but look out for her, even gifting her this incredible shop.
Ding-ling!
The brass bell chimed again.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Song Miaozhu turned to see a plump ghost customer squeezing past her into Anshou Hall, hauling a large cloth bundle.
"One first-grade ingot and ten second-grade ones, please— Huh? Where's the boss?"
"Right here!" She hurried inside. "I'll get them for you right away!"
The ghost blinked at her unfamiliar face. "Did the boss change?"
"You mean my great-grandmother? She just left for reincarnation," Song Miaozhu explained.
"Oh~ Also off to catch that 'Spiritual Energy Tide,' huh?" the ghost nodded knowingly. "I get it, the Tide is rare and all, but there's no place safer than Fengdu City!"
"You're absolutely right!" Song Miaozhu nodded absentmindedly while digging under the counter for the requested ingots.
"Hey! You look pretty young. How'd you die?" the ghost asked curiously.
Song Miaozhu nearly laughed. "Ghosts were gossipy too, huh?"
But she wasn't dead.
"No need to say—skinny as you are, clearly an illness took you," the ghost declared confidently.
Glancing at her slender frame, Song Miaozhu smiled but didn't correct him. "Here are your ingots—one second-grade and ten first-grade. That'll be 2,000 hell notes."
The ghost thumped his bundle onto the counter. "Count it! My family just burned these for me."
Inside were stacks of "Tiandi Bank" trillion-yuan bills—exquisitely printed, top-tier funeral money in the living world.
But this "bank" had no ties to the underworld's actual financial institutions. Despite their lavish appearance, these machine-printed notes were practically worthless here. The entire pile held far less spirit lifespan than the single second-grade ingot she'd earned earlier.
The ghost sighed in frustration.
"Paper money from the living realm gets worse every year. It holds almost no spiritual imprint. A giant bill has barely a smidge of lifespan, and it's drained after one use.
We burned tons for Qingming, and our ghost residence was stuffed with it — still couldn't convert more than twenty thousand hell coins."
Now that she was a shop owner, Song Miaozhu could instantly gauge the ghost lifespan in each bill. At one hell note per hour of lifespan, this stack—as the ghost said—was pitifully low. It couldn't even cover the empty ingots he wanted.
"Sorry, this only amounts to 1,990 hell notes. You're still 10 short."
The ghost blinked — she was right!
He fished out another wad of spirit cash from his robe.
"Paper bills from the living just aren't cutting it anymore. They store less lifespan and lose it faster every year!
I was sorting my stash in my spirit residence and came up ten coins short!
Hope the spiritual revival helps improve this situation!
Anyway, gotta run. Need to convert all the lifespan left in those paper notes into ingots ASAP!"
He scooped up his ingots and dashed off.
At that moment, the white candle on the altar was almost burned out. She didn't have much time left in the underworld. Song Miaozhu quickly locked the shop and dumped all the paper bills into the "Tiandi Treasure Bowl."
The ghost's warning rang in her ears: These notes lose value by the second.
What was worth 2,000 hell notes now might depreciate in minutes.
People claimed the underworld suffered inflation, but really, it was just living-world funeral money that was worthless. Despite its palm-sized appearance, the basin swallowed the entire stack without overflowing. She added the earlier 10,000-hell-note profit too.
Patting the bowl , she commanded, "Transfer to my Wealth Vault account."
A golden flash later, the bowl was empty.
Holding Fengdu: A Handbook for New Ghosts in one hand and the rattan stick Great-Grandma gave her in the other, she activated her shopkeeper's credentials and returned to the living world.
In the ancestral hall of the Song family's old house in Guzhen's Xiaozhu Mountain, the person lying on the lounge chair slowly opened her eyes.
She gently moved her palm. "Hmm?"
Her left hand was empty?
No, the rattan cane was secure in her right grip, successfully brought back from the underworld. The Fengdu: A Handbook for New Ghosts in her left hand remained, but its weight had changed.
No longer solid, it now felt ethereal, like a ghostly object.
"Probably for the best—no need to hide it if others can't see or touch it."
Recalling what Great-Grandma had said about the Heavenly Eye, Song Miaozhu thought: "Well, that's good. I won't need to hide the book — probably no one else can see or touch it anyway."
Only then did she notice how dark it was in the room. Outside, there was only a faint glow — yet she could see everything clearly, unaffected by the lack of light.
Most likely a result of opening her Heavenly Eye.
"Oh right, what time is it?" she quickly pulled out her phone.
As the screen lit up, a notification popped up:
[Wealth Vault Deposit: ¥24,000]
The spirit coins had been converted to real money!
The time showed: 18:14.
She had returned home at exactly 2:00 PM and entered the underworld immediately using the golden key.
She had come back just before the candle burned out.
She had spent less than four hours in the underworld.
Four hours. A deposit of ¥24,000.
Who cared about spring or fall recruitment anymore?
Great-Grandma was right — a shop in the underworld was way better than any job offer.
No fresh graduate could land a job that paid ¥24,000 a day.