"Internal affairs of the SEIU?"
Zhao Mumu and Chen Shuanghe had come to buy paper-crafted goods on behalf of the Lingcheng SEIU, mostly out of concern for Song Miaozhu. They wanted to comfort her.
So why did it suddenly sound like they should be worried about the SEIU instead?
Seeing their confusion, Song Miaozhu briefly explained the risks of the SEIU getting involved in underworld matters. The SEIU might try to keep it under wraps, but she had no reason to keep secrets for them. Zhao Mumu and Chen Shuanghe looked at each other in disbelief.
"Seriously? The higher-ups at the SEIU are that shady?" Zhao Mumu frowned. "Does my brother know about this? Is that why you two didn't reach an agreement last time?"
Song Miaozhu nodded. "Disturbing the balance between the living and the dead gets recorded by the underworld. I don't want to carry that burden."
"No wonder!" Zhao Mumu finally understood why her straight-laced, rule-abiding brother would secretly support Song Miaozhu's business, even going against his superiors.
Growing up in a family closely tied to the military, Zhao Mumu still had faith in official institutions. Chen Shuanghe, however, was a different story.
"This won't drag us down too, right?"
She had no illusions about cultivating into immortality or transcending life and death. For her, cultivation was just a way to strengthen her body and earn more money. Becoming immortal was something out of legend. Everyone still dies in the end. She definitely didn't want to end up suffering in hell because of someone else's greed.
"As long as you stay out of it, you'll be fine," Song Miaozhu assured her. "Unless you directly participate or benefit from their misconduct, you won't be implicated."
"I swear I won't get involved!" Chen Shuanghe said quickly. "Sister Mumu, we should really talk to Team Leader Zhao about this. We might not be able to change what the higher-ups decide, but we can at least reconsider forming a ghost squad in Lingcheng.
Once there's a ghost squad, all of us who have started absorbing spiritual energy and opened our spiritual platforms will have to interact with them. That's practically the same as getting involved with the underworld.
Miaozhu has her ancestral backing, so she's legally allowed to move between both realms, and even then she's just helping out with her family's business.
But the SEIU dares to send ghost agents into the underworld and mess with its markets? That's way too reckless."
"A directive to form ghost squads at the local level has already been issued," Zhao Mumu added. "They want to recruit patriotic ghost souls from cemeteries, but my brother has been holding off under the excuse of staff shortages. He's just been supervising our cultivation instead. He probably has his own doubts too."
Chen Shuanghe finally relaxed a bit. Whatever the SEIU might be doing at the top, at least Team Leader Zhao seemed reliable. As long as he stayed rational, the local branch would be shielded for now.
"One more thing," Zhao Mumu added. "My brother said the higher-ups are planning to make craft-based courses mandatory in high schools and universities. They want to include it in the college entrance talent selection system.
They're just waiting for enough skilled instructors before making the announcement.
Because there are so many crafts and it's hard to centralize instruction, they'll likely conduct foundational craft lessons through off-campus programs. These will be funded by the central government, supervised by the SEIU, and taught separately.
Anyone who earns a master certificate in their craft can officially take on apprentices. The government will cover tuition costs. Craft masters who take on students will get the same benefits as SEIU members of equivalent rank, and those benefits can be combined.
If your business takes a hit because of the SEIU's actions, you might consider applying for this. The pay is decent, and it's more independent—you won't be at the SEIU's beck and call. It shouldn't be difficult for you."
Zhao Mumu still didn't know the unique nature of Song Miaozhu's techniques, so she assumed the SEIU s plans would seriously impact her paper-crafting business. Even if the SEIU's new policies failed halfway through, the losses along the way would be real. And no one knew when the underworld might retaliate. If it waited until after death to settle the score, that would be a real nightmare.
Song Miaozhu thanked her for the suggestion. "I've just been lucky to catch the early wave of spiritual cultivation. As for paper-crafting, I'm still a beginner—still figuring things out myself. I'll wait until my skills improve before I take on any students."
It was true—she did plan to take on a disciple eventually. But she wasn't in any rush.
She had no desire to find a husband, nor did she feel the slightest inclination to have children. She had grown up often hearing that every woman ought to marry, start a family, pass things on through bloodline. But the idea left her cold. It was too confining. Too final.
And besides… even when she looked at the men around her, she had never felt much of anything. Not dislike, exactly, but nothing that ever stirred her interest or made her wonder what if. Romance felt like a storyline for other people. She'd simply assumed she wasn't the type for that sort of thing.
It wasn't that she was cold, or incapable of love. She just hadn't found anything—or anyone—worth reshaping her life around.
Not yet.
Still, she wasn't naïve. If she couldn't reach immortality, then one day she would die. And once she crossed over and became a ghost, that would be it—no more learning, no more refining her craft. No more time.
Without someone to inherit her knowledge, everything her ancestors had built would end with her.
The Secret Art of Paper Crafting had taken generations of careful study, painstaking practice, and spiritual cultivation. It couldn't be allowed to fade just because she wasn't interested in passing it down through traditional family lines.
And that was fine. Not all of her ancestors had passed the craft to their own children. Many times, it had been handed to disciples instead—devoted girls taken in, trained, and raised as part of the Song legacy. Regardless of their birth name, every one of them had adopted the Song surname upon inheriting the craft. That was their way of honoring the founder and continuing the line.
If she were to take on a disciple, it would be a girl, like tradition allowed. But unlike the SEIU's profit-driven model, where apprentices were churned out like factory products, she would not teach lightly.
That kind of relationship was no different from a teacher and student in a school—shallow and impersonal. They only taught basic techniques, which to Song Miaozhu was a waste of time.
If she were to accept a disciple, it would be after thoroughly evaluating their character. Once chosen, she would teach them everything, just like her own family had taught her when she was young. It would take a lot of time and energy.
Right now, she could only make basic ingots and lotus flowers. She didn't have much to teach yet.
Better to wait a little longer.
She reassured them again that she had her own plans and wouldn't be affected by the SEIU's cheap paper offerings. Only then did Zhao Mumu and Chen Shuanghe leave with peace of mind.
As soon as they were gone, Song Miaozhu closed the shop and headed back to Xiaozhu Hill. Now that the SEIU's app was selling cheap but decent-quality paper crafts, she knew she wouldn't have many customers. There was no point staying in the shop anymore.
Back at Xiaozhu Hill, she had just stepped through the door when she paused.
In her mind, a vision appeared—the little paper servants had successfully made a first-grade gold ingot!
She rushed into the house and ran straight to the workshop. The moment she entered, a few little paper servants came over excitedly, holding up the gold ingot for her to see.
Song Miaozhu picked it up and examined it carefully. It was indeed a first-grade gold ingot—identical to the ones she made herself!
"You did amazing!"
The group of little paper servants puffed up with pride, strutting around the room while the others kept their heads down, silently folding their own gold ingots. They didn't believe they couldn't do it too—they had all been made around the same time, after all!
Spurred on by the challenge, another two or three groups succeeded in making first-grade ingots within minutes. One group succeeding might have been luck, but two or three meant real skill.
"This is great! I didn't think you could actually make high-grade paper crafts!"
Song Miaozhu was thrilled.
She had just been worrying that lower-grade gold ingots wouldn't sell well anymore in the human world. But now, the little paper servants could craft first-grade ones.