[Mahjong Family of Yinshui Alley]
[Yi Qiu]: The investigation and resolution from the Prefectural Office and the Underworld Commerce Bureau are finally out. I did my best, and thankfully, we can expect an end to that nasty business rivalry. I've got copies of the appeal verdict with me, and I'll deliver them to each of you later. @Everyone
[Manager Liang, Fortune Garment Workshop]: Great, great! Don't even bother delivering it, just come to my place! Let's celebrate with a few rounds of mahjong!
[Manager Hua, Paper Blossom Pavilion]: Good timing. I was bored out of my mind today.
[Manager Huang, Yellow Paper Shop]: Let me rub the Fortune God for good luck first, then I'll come over and wipe the floor with all of you!
...
Reading the messages through her little paper servant's eyes, Song Miaozhu couldn't sit still any longer. She stood up quickly and bowed in apology.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but something urgent came up. Could we postpone the lesson by a day? I'll still pay for today's session, of course."
"Such good fortune—ahem, I mean, go handle your business! We'll continue tomorrow. No rush, we've got plenty of time!" the ghost instructor said cheerfully.
Who actually wanted to teach? He was only here for the meager tuition fee. If Song Miaozhu had emergencies every day, he'd be thrilled.
The arch was a gateway for spirits traveling between their underworld homes and the capital city of Fengdu.
"Wait… how do I even get to Manager Liang's underworld residence?" She froze mid-step, suddenly realizing the problem.
She wasn't a real ghost and thus had no underworld home of her own. Without access permissions or even knowing the location, how was she supposed to go?
Just then, her GhostNet app buzzed with a new message.
[Manager Liang, Fortune Garment Workshop]:My place is at Swallow Slope, No. 0199. When you enter the archway, silently chant 'Swallow Slope,' and you'll arrive. I've sent someone to meet you at the exit. Hurry up—we're short one player for mahjong!
Relieved, Song Miaozhu stepped through the archway and whispered, "Swallow Slope."
The gray mist before her eyes dissipated, revealing a sprawling hillside dotted with underworld residences. Behind her stood a small archway at the hill's peak—clearly the connector between Fengdu's streets and Swallow Slope.
"Are you Manager Song of Anshou Hall?" An elderly ghost dressed in third-grade paper clothes approached. "I'm the steward of the Liang residence. My mistress sent me to guide you."
This was an actual ghost, not a paper servant.
During their last mahjong game, Song Miaozhu had heard about Liang Fuyi's loyal steward—a servant who had followed her since before her family's decline. This must be him.
She produced her shop owner's credential to verify her identity. "Thank you for your trouble, Steward."
The steward floated downhill with her in tow. "The Liang residence is on the mountainside."
Song Miaozhu studied the faint outlines of the underworld homes they passed, resisting the urge to ask about their distribution patterns.
Miaozhu glanced curiously at the various shadowy underworld homes they passed. She could only make out their outlines—none of the interior details. She kept her questions to herself but was tempted to ask whether there was a system to how these ghost houses were arranged.
She remembered from the New Ghost's Guide to Fengdu that when new ghosts arrived in the underworld, they had to register with the Registry Office, after which they could use their household status to pick a lot for their underworld residence through the Housing Bureau.
If they didn't construct a paper house, the underworld home would resemble their grave aboveground. A dirt mound became a little earthen hut, and a grave of stone would show up as a small stone house.
She wondered if there was a trick to getting good placement. The houses here looked loosely spaced, nothing like the crowded neighborhoods of Fengdu City.
The hill itself was barren, completely stripped of greenery or decoration. It looked desolate, with none of the warmth one might associate with a residential area.
Suddenly, there was a sharp, cheerful birdsong.
"Chirp, chirp—!"
Startled, Miaozhu looked up to see a flock of swallows flying overhead, fluttering and chattering loudly.
Swallows? Here in the underworld?
"That's Swallow Slope's unique feature," the steward explained. "They're manifestations of yin energy."
Looking closer, Song Miaozhu realized the birds were pitch-black from head to tail, their forms radiating a chilling aura despite their lively calls.
She recalled a line from the guidebook: "In lands where underworld homes reside, yin energy takes on vivid forms, adding peculiar charm." These swallows were clearly yin energy's mimicry of life, lending the barren slope a semblance of "vitality."
"That is the Liang residence," the steward said, pointing ahead to a brightly lit mansion. "Easy to spot."
And how.
Even through the obscuring mist, the Liang residence stood out like a bonfire amidst candle flames—its scale and brilliance unmatched by any other dwelling on the slope.
Clearly, Liang Fuyi had amassed considerable wealth in the underworld over the years.
Landing at the grand entrance, the steward pushed the gates open. "Manager Song, please!"
The moment Song Miaozhu floated past the threshold, an unseen force yanked her forward.
"Finally! Hurry up—we're missing a fourth player!"
If not for the familiar voice, she might've thought she was being kidnapped. Ghosts lacked physical bodies and couldn't touch one another without expending spiritual energy. Who in their right mind wastes energy just to drag someone around?!
In the blink of an eye, she found herself seated at a mahjong table in a spacious hall. Good heavens—the room was packed. Mahjong tables lined the space, and a plaque on the wall read "Mahjong Hall."
Song Miaozhu stared at Manager Liang across the table. "Don't tell me there's also a Poker Hall, Board Game Hall, and whatnot?"
"The Poker Hall is next door. We've also got Go and Chess Halls. What's a board game? Some new trend in the mortal world?"
"Sort of. Ever heard of script murder? It's all the rage up there now."
"No! Tell us how to play!" The entire table perked up with interest.
Nothing tormented ghosts more than having too much time and too little to do.
"I don't have the materials for it right now. I'll gather some sets and teach you another day," Song Miaozhu said—though she herself had barely played.
It struck her that an underworld board game parlor might actually be a lucrative venture. Wealthy ghosts were always desperate for entertainment.
"Fine, fine. Mahjong it is, then!" Liang Fuyi declared. "Shuffle the tiles!"
As Song Miaozhu rubbed her hands over the mahjong pieces, she suddenly remembered her original purpose. "Wait—what about the appeal receipt?"
She'd come to see how the Fengdu government and the Underworld Commerce Division had resolved the dispute.
Yet here she was, nearly forgetting everything after being dragged into a game.
"Yi Qiu doesn't play. She dropped off the receipts and left. Here's yours." Liang Fuyi handed her an envelope. "We didn't lose out—the government reimbursed all the hell coins we lost during this period!"