Chapter 13: Ghost Becomes Rich (1)
Uncle Cheng Zhi and Assistant Tao both noticed the strangeness of Ying Zhisheng's house. They looked at each other, but did not dare to say anything for fear that the evil ghost would bear a grudge against them.
The last time Bai Yi and Aunt Hong came to visit, Lou Sheng was broke and had nothing to offer them. This time, however, he was completely different. He was generous and gave them money directly, and the table was filled with a dazzling array of snacks, making Gui envious.
After all, these days, people just put out apples, bananas, and some candy to save trouble. Who in their right mind would buy cheap snacks or expensive food for a dead person?
Bai Yi smiled and sighed, "Your family is so good to you. My family only burns something for me during Chinese New Year, Qingming Festival, and the anniversary of my death. We live a very tight life and can't even afford a new dress."
"I'll buy it for you." Lou Sheng, the new boss, waved his hand. "How much is it? I'll pay for it."
"Brother Lou Sheng, stop teasing me. I quite like the dress I'm wearing now." Bai Yi just mentioned it casually. Being forgotten after death is a slow but inevitable process, and she can accept it with an open mind.
"How much?" Young Master Lou was very rich. If he couldn't even afford a skirt, there would be no hope in his life.
Bai Yi hesitantly told him, "Fifteen trillion."
Lou Sheng almost choked and repeatedly asked to confirm: "Fifteen, trillion?!"
Aunt Hong peeled some crayfish and spoke slowly, "It's normal, don't be surprised. Just think about how much money is spent on a piece of ghost money. Millions or even hundreds of millions are common, and the consequence is currency devaluation and inflation."
Lou Sheng thought about it and understood. He silently calculated the amount of money he had in his head and said, "Buy."
"Buy all of them, your Aunt Hong and me. Let's all three buy new clothes. I'll pay for it."
"Boy, how much did your family burn for you? They're so generous." Aunt Hong assumed Lou Sheng had just died, and his family was feeling particularly sorry for him. Everyone does this: they burn piles of paper money for you right after you die, fearing you're not doing well in the afterlife. But as time passes, the affection fades, and it becomes a nuisance, so they start to just go through the motions.
Lou Sheng smiled and asked, "Two beautiful ladies, please help me find someone, Gao Xinhua, who has been dead for about a year. If you find him, I will reward you."
…
This time, Ying Zhisheng went to bed early and tossed and turned in bed for half an hour. He was anxious and took out sleeping pills from the bedside table, poured them into his palm, and swallowed them directly into his throat.
Looking at this, Lou Sheng thought he was going to commit suicide by taking sleeping pills.
Seeing the dozen or so bottles of sleeping pills in the cabinet, Lou Sheng frowned. It seemed that Ying Zhisheng's sleep disorder was more serious than he had imagined.
His eyelids drooped, and his vision gradually blurred. Ying Zhisheng closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.
In fact, Ying Zhisheng could not predict or grasp every dream, but he knew in his heart that these dreams were his, not created by Lou Sheng, but entered by Lou Sheng.
Where is this dream?
Ying Zhisheng opened his eyes. Where was this? It was the stage.
The audience was packed with fans, waving glow sticks and cheering enthusiastically, screaming and shouting, and colorful lights were shining all around the venue. He saw his name flashing on a small light board.
A giant banner read the eye-catching words "Happy birthday Ying Zhisheng! May you live forever!"
It was his 18th birthday performance, at the National Stadium. The cameras were trained on him, and everyone was watching, waiting for him to adjust the microphone and start singing.
Turning back, Ying Zhisheng's face appeared on the large LED screen on the stage. His hair was slightly longer, and there were small, shiny five-pointed star stickers on the corners of his eyes. His purple earrings sparkled under the light.
Ying Zhisheng has always been able to distinguish between dreams and reality. He swept a calm and scrutinizing gaze over the excited crowd, feeling the surging enthusiasm.
Even in his dream, Ying Zhisheng grabbed the microphone and said, "Thank you all for coming all the way here and for liking my songs."
There was a roar of feedback from the audience, with thousands of people responding to him.
However, Ying Zhisheng looked towards a certain empty seat in the first row, which was as empty as it had been back then. On his birthday, thousands of people congratulated him and sent him countless blessings, but that person had yet to show up.
The smile gradually faded, and bitterness appeared in his eyes. Ying Zhisheng sat on the stage, strumming his guitar and singing "Happy Birthday" to himself, his hoarse voice echoing throughout the audience.
The reality was that Lou Sheng didn't come, and there was no birthday song throughout the entire concert. Ying Zhisheng didn't want to hear it.
"It's so lively, with so many people. Didn't you not sing Happy Birthday then? Do you regret it now?"
Ying Zhisheng suddenly exerted force with his guitar-playing hand and broke the strings.
He looked up and met the gaze of Lou Sheng, who was floating above the crowd.
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