Young people who are often in crowds, even if they pick up a bit of bad luck, have such strong yang energy that evil spirits can't get close to them.
The girl leading the group quickly called back, her voice low but unable to hide her worry: "Casey Anderson, this is just an empty room—there's nothing in here!"
Whatever was said on the other end made her frown even deeper.
"Why would I lie to you? Let me take some pictures and send them to you."
She pushed open the door, ran across the street to snap photos of the exterior, then took pictures of the crowd inside the room and sent them off.
As soon as she sent them, a few girls in the group couldn't keep calm: "President, did we... go to the wrong place?"
The woman with the icy expression said, "Wait a minute, let me ask someone who knows what's going on."
She pretended to text, but her eyes darted over the crowd, watching their reactions.
A few curious people secretly snapped photos and posted them on social media.
This room sat at the crossroads between the world of the living and the underworld, and with a protective formation in place, it was already hard enough for ordinary people to see it, let alone capture it on camera.
It's like how many people claim to have seen ghosts, but there's never been a real photo of one.
Maybe because so many people were gathering with bad intentions, someone from the shop next door called the police.
When the police arrived, the girls immediately fell silent, and a few timid ones even started to cry.
After questioning them, it turned out most of the girls were underage.
The law doesn't blame the crowd, especially since they hadn't done anything too serious, so after a stern lecture, they were let go.
What happened that morning was trending by noon.
Curious people posted the photos, and it instantly went viral.
In the pictures, a few girls stood in an empty room, holding eggs and leafy greens.
The eggs they'd thrown at the shop window had already dried up.
[Parents, keep an eye on your kids. Instead of going to school, they're out smashing up shops.]
[Is stanning an idol making people lose their minds?]
[The movie star said it was a joss-paper shop, I can't stop laughing.]
[I walk by here every day on my way to work—this place is always empty!] [I think the Best Actor is just under too much pressure from filming and started hallucinating!]
[They say shooting horror movies can attract supernatural stuff—did something happen to him?]
The comments were all over the place, with fans trying to keep things under control:
[No one knows where that photo came from, but now my idol is getting blamed.]
[Do you people have nothing better to do?]
[It was clearly a scene about catching a homewrecker, why are you smearing my idol?]
[What proof do you have that my idol’s fans did this?]
Bystanders and fans were arguing up a storm.
I glanced at the shadowy figure lingering outside the door, then calmly set my phone down.
Jordan Turner, bundled up like a dumpling, was standing at the entrance.
He wore a simple tracksuit, a baseball cap, and a face mask.
“44 White Chrysanthemum Street! This is the right address, isn’t it?”
He looked at the photo on his phone, then at the number on my door, clearly in disbelief.
Then he rudely pushed the door open and walked in.
I sat on a chair carved with floral patterns, watching the incense smoke curl up from the burner. In a flash, it burned down to the base, almost going out.
"Miss, what kind of trick are you playing?"
I set down the bamboo frame and answered seriously, "Mr. Turner, I’m not playing any tricks."
He didn’t believe me. He touched the chair, picked up the scissors on the table to examine them, rubbed his eyes, then looked again at the photo on his phone.
The photo had been taken by some curious onlooker.
The position of the pillar and the window matched exactly.
But there was one thing that didn’t match: in the photo, the room was empty, but to Jordan Turner’s eyes, the place was filled with joss paper.
I wasn’t interested in messing with people, so I tried to explain, "Mr. Turner, I told you last time, but maybe you didn’t believe me. Let me say it again, officially: this shop isn’t something ordinary people can see. Only those who are about to—"
Before I could finish, he pointed his phone at me: "Hello to everyone watching the livestream! I’m back at this joss-paper shop today, so I thought I’d stream it for you all. This young lady in the cheongsam is the shopkeeper. Say hi to everyone, Miss!"
I shook my head. So stubborn—he just refuses to wake up!
I sat back down in my chair, ignoring him completely.
Seeing how cold I was, Jordan Turner stopped filming me and turned the camera on himself, starting to show off the joss paper in the shop.
“Everyone, check out this pair of paper boy and girl figures—wow! This is seriously peak Chinese horror vibes.”
I pulled out my phone and joined his livestream.
On the screen, Jordan Turner looked a bit pale, but he was clearly excited.
He pointed around, introducing things in the empty room, touching this and that.
The comments exploded:
[Why do I only see an empty room?]
[It looks just like the photos those people posted!]
[LMAO, Jordan Turner just debunked the whole fan cyberbullying-the-shopkeeper thing himself!]
[Bro, what’s up with you? What nonsense are you talking about?]
[If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to unfan you!]
[Jordan Turner’s really got mental issues now.]
[Did filming a horror movie drive him crazy?]
Jordan Turner saw the comments, but he kept right on introducing things.
On the livestream, his eyes were wide, his makeup-free face pressed close to the camera, looking almost demonic.
“Are you all messing with me? I’m right here in the shop! I can see everything—why can’t you?”
[Bro, I can see it for real, it’s definitely a joss-paper shop.]
[Those joss paper items don’t even have eyes painted on yet!]
There were only one or two comments like that, and they quickly got buried.
Most people were saying Jordan Turner had lost his mind, and even his fans couldn’t drown out the ridicule from random viewers.
Jordan Turner’s livestream lasted less than ten minutes before his manager burst in, snatched the phone, and smiled at everyone: “Dear fans, how was Turner’s prop-free performance? It’s all practice for his new movie. Today’s rehearsal went great—please support the film when it comes out!”
With that, he swiftly ended the livestream. Jordan Turner hurriedly snatched his phone back. "Give me my phone!"
The manager pressed down on Jordan Turner's shoulder. "Calm down! Do you want your reputation to be completely ruined?"
Jordan, agitated, insisted, "Casey Anderson, someone must've hired trolls to mess with me! I saw everything with my own eyes!"
He grabbed the manager's shoulders. "Casey Anderson, you saw it too, right?"
The manager pried Jordan's hands off. "Yes, I saw it! But I asked the staff next to me, and none of them saw anything! Yesterday, I even had people from the company come here—everyone only saw an empty room! Jordan, calm down. If it's just people online trying to hurt us, then why would our coworkers at the company lie too?"
Jordan stood there, stunned. "What is going on... what the hell is happening..."
The manager ignored Jordan Turner and slowly walked over to me. "Miss, you must be someone with special abilities. I was rude last time, and I'm happy to apologize. You know Jordan is a public figure—we don't want him to be negatively affected. Please, help us clear this up."
He rubbed his hands together, putting on a fawning expression. "If possible, could you do a livestream or something, so everyone can see your shop? It would help explain things to the public."
I spread my hands, showing my helplessness. "I already told you last time, this shop isn't open to ordinary people. To be blunt, only those close to death can see it."
Hearing that, Jordan Turner, who had been in a daze, suddenly snapped and shouted, "What nonsense are you spouting! Say one more word and I'll smash your shop!"
I put away my scissors and anything sharp, afraid this lunatic might hurt me.
After all, this paper body is brand new, and I treasure it.
"Mr. Turner, fate punishes those who refuse to listen. Being able to enter this shop is a destiny set by the heavens. You two are about to die—are you sure you don't want to order something from my place? You'll need it after you're gone." As soon as I finished speaking, Jordan Turner completely lost it. "Who are you saying is about to die? I just won Best Actor—I'm at the peak of my career! How could I die now?"
With that, he started smashing everything in sight. The paper mansion on the table was swept to the floor. The paper ox and paper horse by the door were knocked over and stomped on. Even the pair of paper boy and girl figures hanging on the wall weren't spared—he yanked them down and threw them to the ground.
Jordan Turner seemed to get a thrill out of the destruction, but he didn't notice the three incense sticks in the burner flickering, growing dim, and finally going out completely.
What I said wasn't pleasant, and I had no intention of helping the manager clear Jordan Turner's name.
So no matter how much burial paper goods he smashed, no one was going to pay for it.
He didn't know: whatever you break, you have to pay for.
The day after they left the joss-paper shop, news spread that Jordan Turner had been hospitalized.
The media reported that he'd been trampled by a horse while filming.
But the truth can't stay hidden forever. Fans lashed out at the film crew, cursing the staff and making the whole situation blow up even more.
Unable to take it anymore, someone from the crew leaked the story to a gossip account:
[The Best Actor wasn't hospitalized because of a horse. There wasn't even a horse in that scene! He had a nightmare about being trampled and called an ambulance to the hospital.]
[He was in a terrible state while filming—one moment saying he was trapped in a bathroom he couldn't open, the next claiming the stone-lion prop had come to life.]
[I've worked in this industry for ten years and seen plenty of actors act out, but this is the first time I've seen one go completely off the rails!]
That post was like a stone thrown into a pond, sending ripples everywhere.
Jordan Turner's professional image, built up since his debut, collapsed overnight. Fans abandoned him in droves.