The Ghost Insists on Giving Me a Beautiful and Powerful Wife! - Chapter 9

When Yu Ruoyin entered the shop carrying her luggage, Xia Yu had already found a seat in the center. A freshly opened bottle of liquor and her cake sat on the table.

Yu Ruoyin hesitated about whether to speak—after all, she felt that the chance of Xia Yu actually answering her was slim.

Unexpectedly, Xia Yu smiled first and asked:
“Do you have something you want to ask me?”

Yu Ruoyin nodded quickly, almost eagerly. But then Xia Yu’s face turned cold:
“Don’t ask me. I don’t know anything.”

Xia Yu’s personality was truly bizarre—playful and joking one moment, cold and frosty the next.

Yu Ruoyin sat a little farther away from her, unwilling to be in close contact.

Seeing her distance herself, Xia Yu beckoned her over:
“You sitting that far makes it look like I’m bullying you.”

Isn’t that exactly the case?

Xia Yu had never once treated her kindly. Yu Ruoyin had no intention of moving closer.

“Come here.” Xia Yu’s brows furrowed with impatience.

Yu Ruoyin thought about Jiang Huaining returning soon. Fearful, she still didn’t move.
“You dislike me so much. It’s better we keep our distance.”

“Who said I dislike you?” Xia Yu smiled and shook her head.
“I actually like you quite a lot—after all, you make Jiang Huaining unhappy.”

She spoke Jiang Huaining’s name outright. The malice dripping from her tone instantly dropped the atmosphere in the shop to freezing.

Yu Ruoyin took a couple of deep breaths before daring to look at Xia Yu directly.
“You… it seems like you really dislike your boss.”

“Of course. I wish she were dead.” Xia Yu sneered, downing two gulps of liquor.
“Unfortunately, if she dies, I die too.”

Her voice trailed off, her expression flickering with a brief daze.
“Tell me… do you think she’ll die?”

Yu Ruoyin had no way to answer—and didn’t want to.

Drunk Xia Yu was nothing short of a madwoman.

Not receiving a reply, Xia Yu muttered, “She will, hopefully she will.”

Her palm clenched tighter until the bottle shattered in her grip. Liquor trickled down her arm, soaking her clothes.

Her words contradicted themselves—saying she’d die if Jiang Huaining died, yet cursing Jiang Huaining to death. By her own logic, wasn’t she cursing herself too?

Yu Ruoyin couldn’t make sense of it. She gave up trying.

She attempted to clear her head, but the harder she tried, the messier her thoughts grew.

When Yu Ruoyin still refused to budge, Xia Yu simply slid her chair forward, seating herself right in front of her.
“Tell me—aren’t you curious about the Four Spirits Shop? Curious why Old Lady Yan was so afraid to do business with us?”

Of course Yu Ruoyin was curious. But she felt asking Xia Yu was pointless.

Perhaps it was contrariness—because the less Yu Ruoyin asked, the more Xia Yu seemed inclined to speak. Yet her patience was thin.

“The Four Spirits Shop…” Xia Yu began, already sounding restless. She pointed at Yu Ruoyin’s arms.
“Let the old crone out.”

Yu Ruoyin didn’t want to, but Xia Yu’s gaze was unnerving. She reluctantly released Old Lady Yan.

The old ghost, Yan Xihong, bowed respectfully to Xia Yu, smiling.
“Has Lady Xia changed her mind and decided to let me go?”

“I’m not that kind,” Xia Yu replied, opening another bottle.
“Tell her what you know about the Four Spirits Shop and us.”

Yan Xihong looked surprised.
“I don’t know much about you great ones.”

“Say what you do know.”

Respectful as ever, she quickly agreed.

What Yu Ruoyin couldn’t manage to ask, silence brought her instead.

Yan Xihong had wandered the world for over a thousand years. She had come across the Four Spirits Shop many times before and that was how she met Xia Yu.

The Four Spirits Shop lay between the human world and the underworld. Whether human, demon, ghost, or spirit—if fate led them there, the shop would do business.

That wall corner on Longyu Street was said to be the entrance. In reality, it was merely the staff passage. Aside from the shop’s people and a few recognized patrons, no one could pass through.

Legends said you didn’t have to seek the shop—it appeared on its own when it sensed a customer’s deep wish.

The shop set its prices based on the size of the wish. If the customer found it fair, a deal could be made. If not, they could leave freely—perhaps buying only a simple tea that nourished the soul and spirit, harmless and beneficial.

Yan Xihong had entered three times, yet each time she fled before stating her wish.

She had killed in life, and the shop stood backed by the underworld. According to its rules, killers faced judgment after death. Terrified, she ran.

The cooperation between the Four Spirits Shop and the underworld stretched back four thousand years.

At that time, a wicked cultivator rose in the living world—arrogant and immensely powerful. For selfish gain, he defied heaven, setting formations to steal lives and souls. Even when both realms united against him, the result was devastating defeat.

The number of priests, monks, and exorcists slain rivaled centuries’ worth. Entire small clans perished.

Fearless, demons and spirits rampaged. Crooked cults flourished. The underworld was overwhelmed. The mortal world teetered on becoming a hellscape.

Then the Four Spirits Shop appeared.

It consisted of five—one master, four subordinates. No one knew their origin. Only that they were terrifyingly strong—the strongest many would ever behold.

With lightning speed, they crushed the evil cultivator, eradicated ghost kings and zombies, purged dark sorcerers.

Afterward, they built a tavern—supposedly to grant wishes, but only a chosen few could enter. Most regulars were ancient demon lords. To the discerning, the shop’s true purpose was not business but to help the underworld stabilize unruly demons.

The underworld had plenty of ways to deal with humans, spirits, and ghosts—but was weaker against demons.

As ages passed, the tavern became a teahouse, then a café, then today’s milk tea shop.

Yu Ruoyin’s curiosity was fully piqued.
“Really—any wish can be granted?”

“Of course. Once a deal is struck, the master brews a cup of tea. Drink it, and no matter how impossible, the wish comes true. The tea has many effects—letting the living see the dead, erasing painful memories, granting brilliance of mind, even draining resentful energy from souls…”

A flash of greed lit Yan Xihong’s murky eyes.
“They say it can even aid in revenge—slaughtering hundreds in a night.”

Xia Yu shot her a cold glare.
“Stop spouting nonsense. I’m no hired killer.”

Yan Xihong laughed awkwardly.
“Lady Xia, I only heard rumors. Of course not every word is true.”

When Xia Yu said nothing, Yan Xihong continued:

“There are five in the shop. None practice Dao or Buddhism. Not demons, monsters, ghosts. Neither yin nor yang. Yet brimming with spiritual energy.

The master seldom appears. The four subordinates never show together. We only know the master’s surname—Jiang. The four are Chunchen, Xiayu, Qiuluo, and Dongyan. Each appears for just over three months a year, perfectly matching their namesake seasons. So, outside rumor says their true identities are…”

She paused, glanced at Xia Yu, then said:
“The last gods in the world—the deities of the four seasons.”

Xia Yu sneered.
“Gods? Where would gods come from now?”

She drank faster, as though drowning herself in liquor.

Yan Xihong went along carefully:
“Just rumors, nothing more. Still, I’ve always wondered—was that evil cultivator truly so powerful?”

Xia Yu’s face darkened.
“Don’t ask what shouldn’t be asked.”

Silenced by her authority, Yan Xihong dared not speak.

Yu Ruoyin wrestled with herself, then finally voiced her question:
“Why did he kill so many? If ghosts exist, wouldn’t the dead become ghosts? Wouldn’t he be afraid?”

She certainly would have been—one ghost already terrified her, let alone a horde.

Yan Xihong chuckled.
“Those slain by him couldn’t become ghosts. Their souls were refined away.”

“Shut up.”

Xia Yu slammed the table, exploding in fury. Both Yu Ruoyin and Yan Xihong were startled.

Yu Ruoyin thought it strange—Jiang Huaining had led the suppression of that evil one. Yet Xia Yu showed no hatred toward him. When Yan Xihong recounted his atrocities, Xia Yu responded with rage.

Xia Yu glared at Yan Xihong, then turned to Yu Ruoyin.
“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t. What use is all this to you anyway?”

…

She really is a lunatic.

Yu Ruoyin hadn’t wanted to ask her at all. It was Xia Yu who insisted Yan Xihong tell her.

She felt stifled—her longing for Jiang Huaining only deepened.

She stood, retreating from Xia Yu’s piercing stare. Suddenly, a faint fragrance wrapped around her as her body fell into a warm embrace.

A protective voice followed:
“You insisted on telling Ah-Yin, then turned around and blamed her for asking too much. Xia Yu, don’t you think you’ve gone too far?”

It was Jiang Huaining.

Xia Yu was surprised—not at her appearance, but that she somehow knew exactly what had been said.

Her gaze landed on Yu Ruoyin’s neck.
“Boss, you really are…”

She left the sentence unfinished. Yu Ruoyin didn’t care. Her eyes clung to her “savior.”

Noticing, Jiang Huaining tilted her head slightly, smiling warmly.
“She won’t say it—I will. That evil cultivator gathered souls.”

Her face was bloodless, lips pale as paper, even the red mole at her eye corner dulled.

Yet her smile was still enchanting—able to soothe a heart always on the brink of shattering.

Yu Ruoyin leaned closer into her embrace.
“Gather souls?”

“Yes, gather souls.” Jiang Huaining turned her gaze on Xia Yu, smile fading, coldness flooding her eyes. Even her voice grew heavy.
“To gather souls for others isn’t inherently wrong. But to do so through any means necessary—that is the great sin.”

Bang!

A bottle smashed to the floor, making Yu Ruoyin jump.

She looked timidly toward Xia Yu.

Her face was ashen, frightening, shards and liquor scattered at her feet.

Jiang Huaining withdrew her gaze, saying coolly:
“Unforgivable.”

Xia Yu’s complexion paled further. Her hands curled, nails digging into her palms.

Her bloodshot eyes burned with fury, but not at Jiang Huaining. Instead, she looked deeply at Yu Ruoyin.
“Hope you live longer this time.”

Jiang Huaining’s body stiffened.

“Auntie Ning, what’s wrong?” Yu Ruoyin asked anxiously.

Her lips trembled.
“No… nothing.”

Ignoring Xia Yu’s words, she spoke calmly:
“No more business tonight. Rest well. Tomorrow I don’t want to see another drop of liquor.”

Xia Yu had succeeded in upsetting her—but did not laugh in triumph.

She glanced at Jiang Huaining’s pale face, picked up her bottle, and headed upstairs.
“Boss, living people are truly troublesome. So fragile, so short-lived.”

Her tone this time wasn’t mocking, but almost… advisory.

Yu Ruoyin felt both women spoke with hidden meanings.

She wanted to ask—but her instincts told her neither would answer.

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