I Bought Three Buildings in the CBD by Hunting Ghosts

On the day Su Yanci inherited her grandfather’s old bookstore, she found a yellow talisman tucked inside the ledger. The drawing on it wasn’t a lucky cat, but a snarling hanged ghost.

As a top student in finance, she had planned to throw this feudal superstition in the trash. That very night, though, a “customer” came knocking: a white-collar ghost in a suit clung to her leg and wept, saying an “overtime-to-death ghost” had taken his desk, and if he didn’t reincarnate soon, he’d never meet his KPIs.

The CEO of the office tower next door had run afoul of something supernatural. Seven projects worth tens of billions had suddenly fallen through, and the security footage always showed a figure in a qipao flipping through contracts in the conference room.

Even in the apartment building she’d just bought, someone kept ringing her doorbell in the middle of the night. But whenever she opened the door, no one was there, and the elevator display kept jumping between “14” and “-1.” The property manager said it was an electrical fault, but Su Yanci pulled half a bloodstained jade pendant out of the meter box.