The Mysterious Shop of the Master of Metaphysics

The doors of the small shops in Chenglao Alley are always half-closed. The shop owner Xia Qingluo is covered with a grayish white cloth, and the little ghost she is holding on her fingertips is always huddled behind her. Someone came in holding a child's blood-stained clothes and said in a trembling voice: "My daughter's clothes are always dripping on the balcony in the middle of the night. You can still hear her calling her mother... But she has been gone for three years." There are also tenants who ran over with pale faces and said that light brown hair always comes out of the toilet in the rental house. When they reach out to grab it, they touch a cold finger that is a child's. Xia Qingluo took the deposit and took the kid out. Once the spell was applied, no matter how fierce the evil spirit was, it would appear. No one knows that the cloth that blindfolds her eyes cannot be removed. The eyes under the cloth can see through the obsession of the dead souls, and even the door to the underworld can be pushed open with the fingertip talisman. Until a slutty red sports car stopped at the entrance of the alley. Si Yuting, who was wearing a black hoodie and jeans with holes in the knees, leaned against the car door. He put his hands in his pockets and pretended to be calm, but his tone was a little arrogant: "My bedroom wall always makes noises in the middle of the night, as if someone is scratching it with nails... I asked around, and you are the only one who can handle it." The kid next to her suddenly tugged at the hem of her clothes, and his voice was as thin as a mosquito's cry: "Sister, he has such a dazzling aura of wealth. Can I get an extra two hundred yuan for the deposit? That's enough to buy a lot of scented candles!"