The opening time for Huangliang Yimeng was finally set for 10 AM, one week later.
The shop’s initial menu had only three signature items: Yellow Talisman Light Cheesecake with matcha, chocolate, and vanilla fillings, San Qing Ling Cannelé, and Peachwood Sword Special Blend.
I ultimately didn’t change No. 29’s original décor, maintaining the “original flavor” haunted house while customizing a sign for Huangliang Yimeng. I deliberately had the electrician make some modifications so that when lit at night, some neon lights would flicker like poor connections, creating better atmosphere.
As for the division of labor in the shop, the two main front-of-house staff were Han Sha and He Jian, while Song Nanshi, besides being responsible for painting the exorcism dolls as gifts, volunteered to stay in the back kitchen to help me. I told her to show her face at the front counter when necessary, to let people see that even the dishwashing girl in our shop was attractive enough to beat ten others on social media.
With everything fully prepared, three days before opening, having been busy for half a week, I was already in a semi-paralyzed state. Just then, Bai Liu invited me for foot massage. Not taking advantage of free things would make me an idiot, so without a word I gave the other three a short break and headed straight to the north bank of Yu Jiang.
I have to say, my sister’s eye for picking shops far surpassed her eye for picking men. The foot massage parlor she chose had service comparable to Haidilao. I enjoyed twenty minutes in the foot soaking tub when Bai Liu pushed the door open. The alcohol smell on her was clearly overpowering her perfume. She kicked off both high heels without any dignity the moment she entered and threw herself onto the massage bed.
“The boss said if I get a foot massage now I might end up in the hospital, so I can only watch you get pampered, Yang Zi.”
Bai Liu was flushed red from drinking, her hands and feet soft. I knew with her alcohol tolerance, drinking to this state meant she’d had at least a jin. I sighed: “You better not black out—you’re the one who said you’d treat me to foot massage. Don’t make me have to send you home later… I never want to experience again what happened last time when you got drunk and chased me half a block thinking I was your ex-husband.”
Bai Liu hummed like a corpse: “Don’t worry… I already threw up once before coming in. Tonight’s client was too difficult—if I hadn’t said I needed to see my brother, he would have dragged me to open new bottles. Drank me numb.”
I said helplessly: “Not another one wanting to be my brother-in-law, is it?”
Bai Liu snorted coldly, blowing away hair messily stuck to her face: “He wouldn’t dare—I’d dismember him and pickle him in wine!”
Given that she’d attempted this before, I immediately chose to change the subject: “Speaking of which, you’ve spread all the publicity, right? I’m planning to open in three days. Are you coming?”
Bai Liu drunkenly turned her face: “Don’t you know how much I have on my plate? But you were quick this time—got everything done in a week? Where’s the menu?”
I couldn’t forget this, immediately pulling out a box from beside me, filled neatly with my tribute to my sister. She crawled up to take a look and raised her eyebrows: “Not bad, looks more professional than previous times. My evaluation of your cakes wouldn’t be objective—have you had others taste-test them?”
I thought back to the tasting session a few days ago. Only Han Sha remained relatively calm, eating cake as if eating monastery food. The other two weren’t so dignified—Song Nanshi told me the last time she felt this happy was after piecing together a corpse cut into twenty-three pieces, while He Jian directly asked if employee cards got discounts because he wanted to wholesale some to take home for all his aunts and uncles, to let them know he wasn’t fooling around and had connected with Michelin-level restaurants.
I sighed: “Don’t you know my taste standards? Those imported ingredients cost so much I can’t even afford to add marinated eggs to instant noodles. The cat café’s failure should be blamed on the cats, not the taste.”
Bringing this up made my heart flutter. No matter how much of a materialist iron-blooded warrior I was, after seven consecutive failed shops, I should have PTSD. That’s why today upon entering, I believed the boss’s sweet talk and added an evil-dispelling scraping treatment to the foot massage.
Bai Liu was ultimately a woman who casually discussed million-yuan businesses—how could she not see through my thoughts? She said helplessly: “Yang Zi, you’re still too honest in business. Other cat cafés focus on the cats—as long as the cats are cute, customers would drink cat hair lattes without batting an eye. Only you not only fed the cats better than yourself, but also refused to compromise on cake taste. You couldn’t reduce costs, so naturally when landlords raised rent, you couldn’t make it work.”
After speaking, she quickly sighed again and collapsed back onto the bed: “Forget it, telling you this would just be teaching you bad habits, since the problem isn’t with you… But don’t worry this time. I’ve spread through many channels and even found some marketing accounts to talk about this haunted house. There’ll probably be a bunch of paranormal enthusiasts coming to explore. Don’t drop the ball.”
A few months ago, I never would have imagined that with my courage I’d one day make a living from this. Fortunately, after that day, No. 29 hadn’t experienced any other strange incidents.
Han Sha said the things in the house were wary of him and Xiao He. For this reason, he instructed He Jian to drink water on schedule and take care of his health. Meanwhile, he also performed a small bell-ringing ritual every night to help maintain No. 29’s current peaceful state.
I’d never told Bai Liu about this—not because I feared she’d worry, but because given Bai Liu’s level of not believing in evil, she could sacrifice her own brother to live in a haunted house, so even more outrageous things weren’t beyond her.
Facts proved my guess about this woman was right.
Three days later, early in the morning, half an hour before Huangliang Yimeng opened, looking at the growing crowd outside the door, I had an ominous premonition.
No matter how you looked at it, there seemed to be too many people.
Starting from 9:30, this remote area of No. 29 where even cleaning ladies rarely came began to see batches of young tourists arriving continuously. They’d peek at the shop entrance from time to time, their faces practically writing the word “shill.”
I knew that for internet celebrity shops, the first three days depdepended entirely on freebies—this was normal. The advertising I’d had my sister spread was also aimed at freebies. The group purchase price for two signature cakes plus drinks was set at only 20 yuan and included dolls. Compared to my senior classmates working at Michelin Black Pearl restaurants, this was like Guo Jing casually selling the Nine Yin Manual on second-hand apps with room for bargaining. It wasn’t just dragging down the profession—it was the kind of underselling that would get you expelled.
However, even counting those coming to take advantage, the final number far exceeded my imagination. I even began to suspect Bai Liu had announced buying cakes came with shares.
Just after 9:30, No. 29’s entrance was surrounded three layers deep. Not only had I never seen such a scene at my previous shops, even the top internet celebrity shops in Guan Yinli wouldn’t be like this.
Were these really all people coming purely because of publicity?
I felt uneasy when someone suddenly patted my shoulder. He Jian had already changed into the shop uniform and looked very excited: “Boss, there are so many people! I just knew your shop would definitely be popular.”
He was ultimately a young person who hadn’t been beaten by society’s poison—he couldn’t imagine how deep Bai Liu’s schemes ran. I sighed: “If you stood out there now, there’d be even more people. Good thing my sister hasn’t seen you, or she might make you smear cream on yourself, spread it evenly, then do thigh dances at the entrance to attract female customers.”
Song Nanshi had also changed clothes and come downstairs. Beautiful people look good even in garbage bags, and after several days together, I’d discovered Song Nanshi was a true no-makeup beauty. Even on such a big day as today, she wore nothing on her face and still looked beautiful.
I helped her hang the painted dolls in piles by the entrance, suddenly curious: “You’ve practiced on so many dolls—why not try on yourself?”
Song Nanshi was stunned: “Dolls are different from me.”
“Different?”
“Dolls are hard, corpses are also hard, but I’m soft.”
Song Nanshi seriously touched her own face: “Living people’s faces aren’t just soft, they also produce oil. Pens slip and powder doesn’t adhere well, like how thawed chicken is hard to cut cleanly. If I went into a freezer to freeze for a bit, I’d probably be easy to paint on.”
“…”
Generally speaking, that was Song Nanshi’s situation—a perfectly good beauty with a mouth. I couldn’t help but feel grateful this girl had volunteered to help in the back kitchen. Otherwise, if she’d been greeting customers in front all along, I’d genuinely worry about those customers’ mental health.
Five minutes before ten o’clock, everything in the shop was ready, and the crowd outside had gathered to a rather exaggerated degree. I took a deep breath and told myself once more in my heart—good or bad, this was it. Originally naming it Huangliang Yimeng served this purpose too. If this attempt also failed, what I’d done these six or seven years would be one big dream, and people ultimately had to return to reality.
“Prepare for opening.”
I nodded to both of them. He Jian and Song Nanshi opened the doors left and right. Instantly, the layers upon layers of crowds outside and their phones made me dizzy. I didn’t know how much blood money Bai Liu had invested, but she’d managed to pack No. 29’s entrance tighter than water, comparable to Spring Festival travel.
In the surging crowd, He Jian and Song Nanshi struggled to set out two opening flower baskets. Unlike ordinary flower baskets, the orchid arrangements Han Sha had made bore no blessing words, only two talismans. At first glance, they looked like funeral wreaths.
Three days ago, the last suggestion Bai Liu gave me was that opening publicity gimmicks must be sufficient. Since the selling point was a haunted house, we should at least perform an exorcism ritual in public to drive away evil.
Bai Liu said: “Public exorcism rituals aren’t appropriate, but your shop is your private property—if you’re afraid of death, can’t you at least perform a ritual? Just treat it as doing it behind closed doors for yourself. These shop explorers have the same psychology as domineering CEOs—the more they can’t get, the more money they’ll spend.”
Initially, I thought if I asked about this directly, the Daoist master would definitely want to split me in half with his Peachwood Sword. But unexpectedly, Han Sha immediately agreed.
“This house indeed needs a proper ritual to prevent daily crowds of living people from stimulating the original residents here.”
Han Sha spoke seriously at the time, then said he needed to buy chicken. Who could have imagined I’d witness such a scene in my lifetime? I nervously asked if he wanted male or female, but Han Sha said modern rituals just needed a family bucket—mainly to replenish his energy. Those colleagues in the past who specifically demanded rooster blood basically just used roosters as dinner.
Ding.
With the first ring of the San Qing Ling, Han Sha emerged wearing Daoist robes.
Tall and thin, after putting on the fake hair bun, he really had that young Zhang Sanfeng flavor. The crowd immediately started pulling out phones. I knew the timing was right and nodded. He Jian and Song Nanshi immediately slammed the glass door shut, quieting the interior.
“Begin.”
My palms were sweaty. Bai Liu had gone all-out this time, creating such a huge scene that even someone like me who’d experienced seven bankruptcies couldn’t help being nervous. I’d expected Han Sha to feel uncomfortable too, but this guy was truly a veteran performer. His voice was steady as an old dog when he began, reciting a passage without even catching his breath, though he did work up a layer of sweat on his forehead.
“Present incense.”
After a while, Han Sha calmly glanced at me—he wanted me as shop owner to complete the subsequent ritual. The steps had been agreed upon beforehand, so I was about to step forward without a word. But just then, a commotion suddenly arose outside. A uniformed policeman struggled through the crowd, knocked on the shop door, and surveyed the interior with an indescribable expression.
“I used to come to this area only for anti-vice operations. Never thought you young people could play so creatively in broad daylight now.”
The policeman sighed with a very helpless tone.
“Someone complained that you’re conducting feudal superstitious activities that disturb public order… Who’s the manager? Come out and explain the situation.”