I Became Famous in the Horror Circle by Selling Old Houses

My name is Yuan Bao, and I run a nearly bankrupt "ghost house agency" in Jiangcheng Old Street. It has been passed down for five generations and specializes in "special" real estate. I thought that this business would be extinct in my hands, until I became obsessed with selling the century-old Republic of China haunted house at the bottom of my house. The buyer is a serious adventure blogger. On the night he moved in, he sent a trembling voice: "Yuan, Boss Yuan... Why is there someone else living in your house?" In the picture, in the dim mirror, a hazy figure wearing a cheongsam was reflected. I hurriedly dug out the ancestral animal skin contract, and under the large cinnabar characters "Lease for a hundred years, return when due", I touched a line that was almost obliterated - "The spirit of the house will not be withdrawn, and the defaulter will be compensated." At three o'clock in the afternoon, the door of my carving shop in the late Qing Dynasty, which never sounded, was knocked slowly and unhurriedly. Outside the door was filled with gloomy air. Standing was a woman who was breathtakingly beautiful and bone-chillingly cold. She was wearing a dark red cheongsam embroidered with gold lotus branches and her fingertips were as red as blood. She raised her eyelids, her gaze penetrated the door panel and landed on my pale face. Her voice was soft and soft, but it carried the cold air blowing from the depths of the underworld: "Little boss, the contract has expired." "My people, my house, and... Your debts." "Tonight, I'm here to collect rent." From that day on, my "Yuanshi Haunted Mansion Exchange" became inexplicably popular in both worlds. Customer needs are all kinds of strange: the fox ancestor who has been practicing for three hundred years and wants to replace the school district cemetery; the top singer from the Republic of China who broadcasts at midnight and rewards only with ghost coins; and the pale water ghost who always pokes his head when I take a look in the water and insists on being my "substitute"...