From that night on, business at the Anshou Hall Paper Shop in the world of the living suddenly picked up. Moreover, the ones being sold were all high-grade paper crafts. At first, it was just the logistics team of Lingcheng's SEIUreaching out through Zhao Mumu and Zhao Huoyan to buy graded ingots.
Then Team Leader Li asked if he could share her WeChat contact with colleagues. A person who never took leave actually took a day off to visit ancestral graves. What happened last night had spread through the criminal police team, and now they all wanted to buy paper crafts from her.
Song Miaozhu had no reason to refuse. Graded ingots sold to humans or ghosts made no difference to her. But this opened the floodgates. Word spread from ten to a hundred, and soon, locals were clamoring for graded offerings.
Thankfully, these weren't daily purchases.
Setting aside one day a week to open the shop handled demand just fine. Then the national SEIU dropped a bombshell, they published a report on their app, explaining the difference between ordinary and high-grade paper crafts in the underworld.
Soon after, Zhao Huoyan showed up at her doorstep with a procurement proposal.
"You're saying your bureau wants to not only sell these items in the Contribution Points Mall but also distribute them as staff benefits?" Song Miaozhu asked in surprise. "They're only useful for the dead. Would your members really be willing to spend their hard-earned points on this?"
After all, contribution points were a premium currency, earned only by completing SEIU missions. They could be used to purchase master-level classes, request cultivation support from the logistics team, and even be exchanged for money at a rate of 1 to 100.
Cash couldn't buy points, but points could buy cash!
If people could just buy the item with money, who would waste points on it?
SEIU members should be able to afford low-grade paper crafts without spending points.
"Even if your members want to burn these for their deceased relatives, how can you call that an employee benefit?" she continued.
Giving the living goods meant for the dead? That's just strange. Were they supposed to hoard them for use after death?
"Our SEIU doesn't exclusively employ the living," Zhao Huoyan said mildly. "The benefits are for our ghost members."
"..."
Song Miaozhu nearly choked. The SEIU was hiring ghosts now?
No wonder their underworld intel was so sharp.
At least this explained the "benefits" logic.
She felt relieved that the matter of the Heaven-Tier Ghost Shop was ancient history, and few ghosts remembered it. Even if they did, without the original owner, no one knew what it meant for hell coins to be exchanged for currency in the world of the living.
"Additionally, our procurement includes exclusive mortal-world sales rights for your graded papercrafts," Zhao Huoyan added.
Song Miaozhu's brows furrowed. "Exclusive rights?"
Was this forcing members to spend points just to acquire offerings? A scheme to drain their reserves?
"Master Song, don't reject outright," Zhao Huoyan hurried to explain.
"We want you to open a digital paper shop in the Contribution Points Mall, exclusively selling your paper crafts at contribution-point prices. From then on, your crafts would only be available through our Bureau's app. All app users would be your potential customers. It's a win-win for you."
If true, this was tempting.
Cultivators would grasp the value of graded offerings faster than civilians.
An app-based store could massively expand her sales—but nothing came free.
"And my obligations?" she asked.
"A 3% transaction fee for platform maintenance. Internal Bureau purchases for employee benefits require at least a 20% discount. And if the Bureau commissions custom pieces—say, fourth-grade armor—you must prioritize those orders when feasible, without refusal."
Song Miaozhu immediately recognized this as a system modeled after modern e-commerce platforms, but the no-rejection and mandatory customization clauses were clearly new, based on Bureau demands.
It was those additions that gave her pause.
The Paper Infusion Technique was her ancestor's invention, , who invented the Secret Art of Paper Crafting. That progenitor could be called the originator of their craft. Every modern papercraft artisan bore some influence from the Song family's Secret Art of Paper Crafting.
But the technique involved manipulating spiritual and yin energy, which was indecipherable back when spiritual energy hadn't returned. Most paper artisans couldn't even begin to understand it.
Thus, the technique remained the Song family's best-kept secret. Unless she chose to teach it openly, she alone could produce fourth-grade clothes. Accepting this deal meant becoming the sole supplier for every ghost employee's wardrobe—and catering to custom demands.
She was tempted by the SEIU's market access, but she understood one thing: as long as Anshou Hall brought her enough hell coins for cultivation, improving her skill was more important than chasing money.
Sure, the money was nice—but not worth giving up her freedom.
She needed space to create and learn, not forced orders.
So she said flatly, "I refuse."
Zhao Huoyan was confused. "May I ask why?"
"I'm okay with opening a shop on the app, charging in contribution points. I'm fine with a 3% cut. Even the 20% discount is acceptable. I can raise my prices a bit to balance that out. But I won't accept mandatory orders or customization. You have ghost members, right? You must know my Tier-4 Yin Clothes sells itself. Every style gets snapped up immediately.
For the Bureau, this might be a way to improve morale. But for me, it wastes time and interferes with my learning schedule. So I can't agree. At most, I'll promise to put one or two pieces in every batch up for sale on your app. Designs and timing won't be guaranteed. If you want custom work, it'll have to be discussed separately. I'll decide based on my time and interest."