“What virgin?” He Jian was startled.
“Virgin boy.” Han Sha circled around him, thoughtful. “Full of yang energy, can break evil spirits—no wonder he entered that room without a scratch.”
I was stunned, seeing He Jian lower his head embarrassedly. I hadn’t expected this good-looking kid to be so conservative. Then I thought again—you’re a Daoist who clearly knows that virgin boy urine can break ten thousand spells, so why don’t you know to maintain male virtue when making a living from this? Just now you could only hold the scene with noseblood?
I stared at Han Sha. He guessed what I was thinking and maintained that serious expression: “I’m not a Quanzhen sect layman—I can eat meat and can marry and start a family… I even have a daughter, and I need to support my family.”
In other words, Daoists also need to earn money for baby formula and pay off credit cards. Who isn’t a wage slave after all?
I said helplessly: “So you mean as long as he’s here, plus you, my house can be saved?”
The Daoist nodded: “As long as he remains a virgin boy, the success rate will be much higher. I’ll try my best.”
Logically, someone in their early twenties is at the age when they’re like wolves and tigers—this wasn’t something I could control. I was just feeling this was difficult to handle when who knew He Jian, this kid, would be so spineless and money-grubbing. Hearing this, he nodded like a bobblehead: “Boss, don’t worry… I’m busy making money and taking care of my family, so I don’t have time for that. As long as you give me this job, I can do anything. Don’t worry!”
With that, two employees were settled for the shop. Just one more to go.
I looked at Song Nanshi beside me. This girl’s profession was a bit on the dark side, but that wasn’t necessarily bad. A Daoist plus a mortuary cosmetologist—one for metaphysical ghost exorcism, one for physical afterlife services. Left and right guardians could immediately max out the haunted house atmosphere.
I had already decided to hire all three of them, but Han Sha once again preempted me, saying: “This young lady’s physiognomy clearly shows an extraordinarily strong horoscope, which indeed meets your boss’s requirements. However, she’s had contact with many violently deceased evil spirits in the past, which easily attracts evil. This house is already dark enough—if the people living here are also wrong, you might really have a bloody disaster in the future.”
Han Sha spoke quite directly, and after he said this, the girl’s shoulders visibly sagged. How could I, someone attracted to looks, bear to see this?
I glanced at the Daoist: “Preventing me from having a bloody disaster is your job—don’t slack off.”
At this point I had already come to terms with it. Since there were already ghosts, I might as well fully utilize this advantage and grow bigger and stronger, magnificently creating Guan Yinli’s number one haunted house. I aimed to surpass Japan and America soon, punching Zhou Yan’s Gayako and kicking The Shining’s orphan grudges.
The Daoist was momentarily choked by my response and calmly said “life and death are fate.” I just took it as him selling anxiety and said: “Opening in a week. You can move in a few days early. I’ll pay you normal wages, but no five insurances and housing fund for now. You understand—you get more in hand, and please don’t backstab me. I won’t hide it from you—my investment luck is terrible. Even buying funds gives me green lights, whatever I buy plummets. This is already my eighth shop. It needs to survive half a year before you can possibly work here long-term.”
I laid out the truth, thinking someone might object, but these three people immediately nodded, so smoothly that I felt something was off and became alert: “You’re all so indifferent about five insurances and housing fund?”
Han Sha shrugged: “I’m already a wanderer by nature, freelance, with flexible employment social insurance.”
He Jian grinned: “Just graduated from college—having a job is already good, how could I be picky?”
Finally I looked at Song Nanshi. Her original work wasn’t pleasant to mention, but it was a proper position with benefits—a solid iron rice bowl. Why would she suddenly give that up to work at my place? She couldn’t be descending to experience life, could she?
After I stared for a while, Song Nanshi couldn’t take it anymore and said in a voice thin as a mosquito’s hum: “I was originally contract work anyway. My family wants me to get permanent status, but if I keep doing that job, I might be single for life.”
I suddenly understood. The beauty looked completely wilted now, so I quickly comforted her: “That’s their lack of vision—judging people only by appearance without valuing inner spiritual beauty! After coming to my place, your skills won’t go to waste. Those dolls you showed me—can you mass produce them?”
In my twenty-plus years of life, the woman I’d had most contact with was Bai Liu with her eight hundred calculating minds. I was very used to beauties saying one thing and meaning another, so I originally thought Song Nanshi was the same type. Who knew that after I spoke, the girl lit up like a golden retriever hearing it was walk time.
Song Nanshi nodded repeatedly: “Yes! I still have many blanks on hand, and I can buy more if needed! My hands are very fast! Even with real people, I can paint over ten a day with no problem!”
I shuddered. The feeling was like your dog wagging its tail excitedly, bringing back what you thought was a stick, only to look closely and discover it was actually a human leg bone.
I didn’t know how to continue encouraging her and could only pat her saying: “Research it these two days and paint several types of dolls for me to see. Later I want to use these dolls as gifts with meal sets.”
Internet celebrity shop, internet celebrity shop—gimmicks are most important. Like that century-old cold shrimp shop I ate at before, the owner had placed a huge cold shrimp model at the entrance from opening day, making it a landmark of Guan Yinli food street and never lacking victims to deceive since.
From the day I took over this shop, I’d been thinking about what kind of gimmick to prepare. Originally my brain was still a mess, but after recruiting this team with direct connections to the underworld, my conception and governing vessels suddenly opened up.
Bai Liu had said that opening a shop in a haunted house had advantages—at least there wouldn’t be the problem of typical internet celebrity shops where people photograph for an entire afternoon with too low table turnover. But to make customers feel safe entering, it should be evil but not completely evil. Best if eating a piece of cake could provide one-click exorcism and guarantee good luck all year—only then could repeat customers be ensured.
I was someone who had opened seven shops after all, so I was painfully familiar with the entire process. After settling on people, I spent a few hours getting business licenses and such sorted out. When I returned to No. 29, Han Sha was already waiting for me with a small wheeled suitcase beside him.
“That’s all your stuff?” I was shocked. “Lin Zhengying had much more impressive gear than you. Your Peachwood Sword can’t be retractable, can it?”
Han Sha said calmly: “It’s not like we’re fighting bayonet battles with people—what use is such a big sword? Peachwood is wood of the five essences, with curved branches extremely difficult to source, and must be without scars or insect holes. The better the Peachwood Sword, the more exquisite the finished product. This one was passed down by my master—I can show it to you later.”
Having a Daoist standing nearby for buffs, re-entering No. 29, I actually felt more confident. And Han Sha, as if to prove his professional capability, began taking his ritual implements from the suitcase for my appreciation.
“Peachwood Sword, San Qing Ling, and these talismans—all prepared for your place.”
Han Sha laid out the items one by one. At first glance, his equipment was indeed more refined than what I knew was sold at small commodity markets. The Peachwood Sword had developed a patina from handling. When I picked up the bell wanting to shake it and test it, Han Sha pressed my hand: “San Qing Ling can both exorcise demons and summon souls. Your horoscope isn’t as strong as that young lady’s—if you attract some unclean thing to possess you, that would be troublesome.”
My heart chilled: “These things have that preference?”
Han Sha looked at me very seriously: “Not having a girlfriend in reality doesn’t mean no lonely ghosts like you. With your constitution, you might be a very popular pretty boy on their side.”
“…”
As they say, how to insult someone twice in one sentence.
I silently repeated “making money is most important” two hundred times and put down the bell: “Can these talismans be mass-produced? Can I use them as cake gifts?”
Han Sha remained expressionless, patiently explaining: “If they could be mass-produced, why wouldn’t I sell thirty-one pieces and open a Taobao shop?”
Very reasonable.
I quickly abandoned this idea and asked again: “If I sell more expensive meal sets, can you perform sword dancing on the side, like hand-pulled noodles at Haidilao?”
The Daoist’s expression became kind: “I said these ritual implements can both exorcise demons and summon souls—do you want your customers to take home a big treasure?”
I sighed, realizing Han Sha did have his professional ethics. I couldn’t force good people into prostitution, so I said: “Then you can at least write me a few talismans to suppress the house, paste them on the first floor as decoration. Then when there are many customers, you can work as greeter and cashier, okay?”
Han Sha thought about it and finally nodded. I knew I couldn’t expect a Daoist to immediately know how to operate a cash register—after business training we’d still have to work together. I had him go upstairs first to see if there were still unclean things, while I stayed in the kitchen to begin designing Huangliang Yimeng’s first menu.
For internet celebrity shops, dishes made at opening should be few but refined. More crucially, they needed to be photogenic from every 360-degree angle. I’d tried many things before—realistic mousse cakes or the soufflés that were hugely popular a couple years ago. These had all been on my menus, but…
Since we were doing a haunted house, the vision naturally had to expand.
For six full hours, I was almost constantly busy in the back kitchen. Finally, at seven-thirty in the evening, I called everyone down from upstairs and placed a plate in front of each person.
“What’s this?”
He Jian stared at the goose-yellow rectangular cake in front of him. He obviously recognized the words “All Wishes Granted” I’d written with chocolate pen and felt a vague familiarity, but hesitated for a long time without daring to speak.
“This is the experimental version of Yellow Talisman Filled Light Cheesecake.”
I answered for him: “Planning to make several versions—things like All Wishes Granted, Peach Blossoms Rolling In, Wealth Flowing In, etc. I’ll custom order cake stamps to press directly on top, which will be more neat than what I’m drawing now.”
Han Sha rarely showed a shocked expression: “You plan to have them eat this?”
“Don’t Daoists in movies also make people eat talismans? Burned ones even cause cancer—mine will only make you fat, but if I don’t label it, it’s zero calories.”
I pointed to the San Qing Ling-shaped matcha small cakes nearby: “Angel’s Bell Cannelé doesn’t have as much fame domestically as macarons, but it’s a very classic French dessert. I added a three-pronged chocolate handle—crispy outside, soft inside, and looks quite authentic, right?”
What answered me was a clear sound of someone swallowing saliva.
Song Nanshi had been holed up in her room all afternoon painting dolls. Since coming down, she’d been staring fixedly at the cakes, probably maintaining a beauty’s final restraint toward food. Seeing this, I quickly mentioned the last item on the menu: “The final item—Peachwood Sword Special Blend. Stirring sticks shaped like Peachwood Swords made from 89% chocolate, put into coffee or milk to slowly melt and balance the sweetness, finally adding little ghost-shaped marshmallows to make mocha and cocoa flavored drinks.”
“Did you think of all this yourself, boss?” He Jian fiddled with the chocolate tassels behind the sword, looking at me incredulously.
I thought to myself—I did have a Le Cordon Bleu pastry certificate after all. These things, honestly, were just quite simple entry-level baking, mainly about appearance. If my teacher far away in foreign lands knew I was now using these to fool customers, he’d probably want to strangle me and hang me upside down from the Eiffel Tower.
I sighed, seeing before my eyes the image of a woman leaning against a hospital bed blowing out candles, smiling at me.
This really was the last time, Mother.
I handed over the knife and fork, smiling: “Most importantly, it’s the taste… Don’t be too amazed—I’m afraid you won’t be able to eat other shops’ cakes in the future.”