At first glance, it was still just a stiff paper horse. But after Song Miaozhu delivered it to the ghost shop's storage room in the underworld, the horse looked even more lifelike than the spirit-charged ones crafted with spiritual energy.
Muscles coiled beneath its paper-sculpted frame, wrapping around bones with a smooth, flowing contour. Its paper fur shimmered with a satin-like sheen. It stood silently in the warehouse, waiting for its master's call.
Song Miaozhu immediately returned to her secret chamber in the mortal realm, lay down, and sent her soul into the underworld. Once she drifted to the street outside the ghost shop, she summoned the Yin Paper Horse from the warehouse.
In the mortal realm, she had never ridden a real horse, and just mounting one would be a struggle. But here, in soul form, she floated effortlessly onto its back.
There was no need to hold the reins. This horse, crafted by her own hands, was perfectly attuned to her thoughts.
With a single command of will, the horse sprang forward like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.
The gust from its hooves sent nearby ghost shops swaying.
Ghosts on the street: !!!∑(Дノ)ノ
Where did that horse come from?
Those less informed only found it odd to see a human-shaped ghost riding a beast usually found only in the animal wards of the city.
But those who had seen more were already crying out in astonishment, "Another Yin Paper steed from Fengdu? Must be from the Ansou Hall!"
Song Miaozhu galloped through the streets, completely unimpeded.
Riding a horse in the underworld was nothing like driving a car in the mortal world. There were no traffic rules to obey, no need to be constantly alert. Even if she fell off, her soul wouldn't be injured.
She let herself sink into the exhilaration of speed and wind.
Near the archway leading to the Yin Residence district, the horse leapt into the air and soared straight through the gate, landing neatly at the peak of Swallow Hill.
Outside the Liang Estate, six ghost managers stood waiting. When they finally saw her approach, their expressions lit up—but then turned to astonishment.
"A Yin Paper Horse!" cried Manager Liang.
The others followed with delighted exclamations.
"You've learned how to make Yin Paper Horses?"
As soon as she dismounted, Manager Liang grabbed her hand.
Song Miaozhu nodded. She hadn't ridden here just to save time—this was a deliberate display.
After all, her card game friends were hardly short on money.
"Excellent! Can you help me repair Red Tassel?" Liang asked excitedly.
"And my Black Jade!" Manager Huang stepped forward.
"My Flying Swallow too!"
"My Snowstep!"
"My Crimson Shadow!"
"My White Hook!"
She had only invited six friends today, planning to host a round of script murder like she'd promised earlier. Now all six surrounded her, asking her to repair their horses. As it turned out, each of them had bought a Yin Paper steed created by her ancestor using underworld qi.
But that had been over two centuries ago.
While the horses still retained their spirit, the paper bodies had long since worn out from years of riding. Unlike static paper decor, riding steeds degraded quickly. And not every head of the Ansou Hall had lived long enough to learn how to craft such high-level Yin Paper Horses.
So it was common for a horse made by one generation to wait decades until a later heir could repair or restore it. The Secret Art of Paper Crafting had records of such cases, and clear instructions on how to handle them.
Song Miaozhu flipped through the techniques in her mind and said, "Long-time patrons are entitled to one half-price body restoration. But it still costs six hundred thousand hell coins. If you want custom details, that's an additional hundred thousand. So the total comes to seven hundred thousand. Are you sure you don't want to commission a new horse instead? A new one only costs one million two hundred thousand."
"No, just remake the bodies! We want to keep our old partners," the six responded in unison.
Song Miaozhu nodded. "Alright. What design do you want?"
"I've got a portrait of Red Tassel. I'll have my steward bring it," Liang said.
The others either had portraits or requested new designs with their own ideas.
After a quick look, Song Miaozhu noted, "These won't be easy to recreate. It might take a long time."
"That's fine. We're in no rush!"
If they had wanted to reincarnate, they would've done it when the spiritual revival first began. That way, they'd have been born into the era with the densest spiritual energy. But they hadn't. These ghost managers weren't hurting for money, and they had long abandoned any plans of rebirth.
Time meant very little to wealthy ghosts.
Song Miaozhu accepted the commissions, treating them as a chance to hone her paper crafting skills while also earning a tidy sum.
"By the way," Manager Liang suddenly said, "didn't you say you were going to teach us that fun new game?"
"You all read your character cards already, right? No spoilers, I hope?" Song Miaozhu asked.
Manager Liang twirled in place and lifted her golden veil, revealing the cinnabar charm at her neck.
That's when Song Miaozhu realized that Liang's outfit was different today—fitting her role as the Mute Princess perfectly.
The others had also dressed according to their assigned roles: a court physician in medical robes, a bodyguard with a strapped iron box, a wandering Taoist clutching a compass, a Hu Xuan dancer with silver anklets, and a young coroner carrying autopsy tools.
Song Miaozhu led them into the Liang estate, reciting the opening narration:
"At the third quarter of the hour of the Dog, the moment you stepped over the threshold, a cold wind slammed the vermilion doors shut behind you. Paper lanterns hanging from the eaves turned green, casting eerie shadows on the wall—long scratch marks crisscrossing the surface."
"From the southeast corner came the clang of ghostly bells. When the candles flickered back to life, you each found a soul-calling banner, soaked in corpse oil, tied around your waists. And on the bronze mirror said to reveal past-life grievances... none of your reflections matched who you are now."
It wasn't the smoothest run-through, but Song Miaozhu still managed to guide them through the full session of Blood Moon, Mirror of Bones, the script murder scenario she'd gotten from Cheng Ziyang.
They completed the game within three hours, giving everyone a clear sense of how it worked.
The ghost managers were hooked.
"If only we had more props and set design, it would've been even more immersive!"
"I messed up today, revealed my role too early! I wouldn't make that mistake again!"
"But we all know who the culprit is now. It won't be as thrilling next time."
"Shame we can't play it over and over like mahjong!"
"You can become hosts yourselves," Song Miaozhu offered. "Run the game for other card players. Besides... I've got plenty more scripts where that came from!"
As she spoke, she pulled out a thick stack of bound documents. "Take these and study them! When you're done, I'll prepare more for you!"