A few minutes passed. Su Yao approached the unmarked door, ignoring the code. A simple, focused push of her will warped the metal of the deadbolt inside its housing with a soft crunch. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The scene that greeted her was a small, shabby office. A balding man in a cheap suit sat behind a cluttered desk, looking bored. A faded poster on the wall advertised “Night Blossom Host Club - Where Dreams and Charm Meet.” It featured several overly groomed young men in tuxedos.
Jian Feng was sitting in a plastic chair opposite the man. His posture was rigid with humiliation. He looked up as Su Yao entered, and his face went from pale to sheet-white.
“Y-you!” he stammered, shooting to his feet.
The manager looked between them, annoyed. “Who are you? We're conducting an interview here. This is a private business.”
Su Yao’s eyes swept over the poster, the application form on the desk, and Jian Feng’s mortified expression. The pieces clicked into place with devastating clarity.
“A host club,” she stated. Her voice was flat. “You're here for a job interview as a male escort.”
Jian Feng looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “It’s just a performance-based social hospitality role!”
“The pay is performance-based, yes,” the manager confirmed, completely missing the tension. “Your looks and your television fame would be a great draw. The ‘Righteous Exorcist’ playing the charming host. The ladies would eat it up.”
Su Yao began to laugh. It was a low, rolling sound of pure, undiluted mockery that filled the tiny room. “So this is your great secret. You were just broke.”
Jian Feng flinched. “The Li family, they control the purse strings. Yan'er’s allowance is generous, but mine, it’s conditional. On my ‘performance’ and ‘public image’. I need my own funds!”
“To do what?” Su Yao asked. Her laughter cut off abruptly. “Buy more hair gel? Fund your espresso habit without having to beg your fiancée? This is the depth of your ambition?”
She looked at the manager. “He’s hired.”
Both men stared at her.
“What?” the manager said.
“He’s perfect for the role,” Su Yao said. Her smile was sharp and cruel. “He’s spent his entire life pretending to be something he’s not for an audience. This is just a different stage, a more honest one.”
Her gaze turned back to Jian Feng, pinning him in place. “I won't tell your precious Luo family or your wealthy fiancée. Your secret is safe with me.”
The relief on his face was pathetic.
“On one condition,” she added softly. “You don't get to quit. You will work here, and you will be the best host this pathetic establishment has ever seen. I want to know that every time you flash that insincere smile for a paying customer, you remember that I'm the one who let you do it.”
She turned and walked out, leaving Jian Feng standing there. His dream of easy money was now a gilded cage of his own making. The key was held by the one person he despised most.
As she stepped back into the alley, Su Yao shook her head. All that potential for intrigue, for a real plot twist, was wasted on something so financially pedestrian. It was almost enough to kill her appetite. Almost.
Su Yao kept her eyes forward. She stopped and addressed the empty air behind her. “Stop hiding. Your angst is leaking all over the place. You can come out now.”
The air shimmered, and Jian Feng’s mother materialized. Her form was indeed more solid. Her aura was denser and sharper. The sorrow in her eyes was now underpinned by a hungry power.
“You've been snacking on something substantial,” Su Yao observed. “A spiritually sensitive human? A minor exorcist? Not my problem. What do you think of your son’s new career path?”
The spirit’s form flickered with possessive pride. “He is doing what he must! He is resourceful! He has my strength in him!”
“Your bias is noted and discarded,” Su Yao said. “You cling to this world for him. Do you actually want to help him, or just watch him make increasingly pathetic choices?”
“What can I do?” the spirit wailed. Her voice was a hollow echo. “I am just a ghost! A spectator! I can only watch!”
“Where have you been lurking lately?” Su Yao asked, changing tack.
“A place with so many children, so much laughter and fleeting fear,” the spirit murmured. A dark smile was on her lips. “The amusement park. It’s delightful.”
“So you're the one responsible for the ride malfunctions?”
“Oh, no,” the spirit said, shaking her head. “The machines breaking are something else, something heavier. I simply enjoy the hauntings. I leave cold spots on the carousels and whispers in the haunted house. The children’s delighted shivers are so nourishing.”
Su Yao considered this. The spirit could be a useful, if twisted, pair of eyes and ears. “You want to be useful? Fine. I'll give you a chance to be more than a spectator.”
With a flick of her wrist, Su Yao conjured a clone of herself. “Possess it.”
The spirit stared. Then with a surge of longing, she flowed into the clone. The clone’s eyes snapped open, glowing with the mother’s spectral light. She looked at her new, solid hands in wonder.
“There is a catch,” Su Yao stated. “A sensory tether. What you see, I see. What you hear, I hear. Consider yourself my scout. My spy. Go back to the amusement park. Enjoy the children’s fears. But you will report everything directly to me, especially this ‘heavier’ thing affecting the rides.”
The possessed clone looked at Su Yao with exhilaration on its borrowed face. For the first time in decades, she could truly interact with the world her son lived in.
“Now,” Su Yao commanded. “Go have fun. And remember, I'm watching.”
The clone nodded shakily and scurried out of the alley. A ghost in a flesh-and-blood disguise, finally given a purpose beyond watching. Su Yao watched her go. The amusement park just got even more interesting. She had her own agent on the inside.
For three days, Su Yao periodically checked the sensory feed from the clone. The experience was mind-numbingly dull.
Su Yao saw through the clone’s eyes as she filled out employment paperwork. “Lian,” the ghost had chosen as a name. She watched as Lian was given a bland uniform and a safety manual. The view was often of the underside of ride platforms during “routine inspections,” just grease and steel. She heard snippets of inane conversations with visitors.
“The line for the Ferris wheel starts over there, ma'am.”
“I'm sorry, you must be this tall to ride the Sky-Rocket.”
There were cold spots, yes. A child would shiver on the carousel. A couple would complain of a sudden chill in the tunnel of love. Lian would linger there, drawing a subtle sustenance from their brief fear, but she reported nothing of substance.
What she found was the mundane routine of a low-level park employee and the petty snacking of a lonely ghost.
Su Yao severed the connection with a sound of disgust. “Useless,” she muttered to the empty air of her room. The ghost was too absorbed in playing human and savoring crumbs of fear to be a proper investigative tool.
“Fine, then,” Su Yao muttered. She grabbed her jacket. The weekend was here. Zhang Wei would be waiting, terrified, at the gates.
If the ghost couldn't find the fun, she would just have to go there and stir things up herself.
Su Yao met a pale and trembling Zhang Wei at the park gates. “You came,” he whispered, as if she'd just returned from a warzone.
“Obviously,” she said. Her eyes were already scanning the park over his shoulder. The Ferris wheel turned and the roller coasters roared. Children shrieked with laughter. It was all disgustingly normal.
They walked in. Zhang Wei flinched at every mechanical clank. “You sure about this, Ling Ling?”
“The management said it was safe. Are you calling them liars?” she replied. Her gaze swept over the food stalls, the game booths, the queues of people. The area was empty, free of spiritual residue or unnatural shadows.
They rode the Whirlwind Racers. Zhang Wei screamed the entire time. Su Yao sat perfectly still, feeling only the mundane forces of acceleration and gravity. Nothing else was present.
They passed the Tunnel of Love. The clone she had possessed was gone, likely its temporary employment ended. The water was still. The animatronic Cupids creaked on their tracks.
Is the spirit afraid of me? she wondered, watching a group of teenagers splash each other with the chlorinated water. Is it hiding, sensing my arrival?
Or is it laying low for another reason?
Or… A third, more irritating thought occurred. Did someone else already deal with it? Had she arrived too late to the party?
“Can we go on the Ferris wheel?” Zhang Wei asked, pointing to the giant wheel. “It, it looks slow.”
Su Yao looked at the Ferris wheel. From a higher spot, she could see the entire park. “Acceptable.”
The line for the Ferris wheel was long. Zhang Wei fidgeted nervously. Su Yao stood perfectly still. Her gaze was a laser scanning every inch of the park below. They finally boarded a gondola. The door clicked shut with a mundane finality.
Their ride began its slow ascent. Zhang Wei peered over the edge, then quickly sat back. His face was green. “So high…”
From this height, the park stretched below like a map. Its lights were scattered across the rides and walkways. She reached out with her senses, tracing the flow of energy through the air and into the ground.
There was nothing.
This place lacked any traces of malevolence or spiritual distortion. She sensed only the faint excitement of the crowd below and the rough electrical current that kept the rides running. It was spiritually sterile.
The gondola reached the apex. Zhang Wei, overcoming his fear, managed a weak smile. “The view is, kinda nice, actually.”
Duwang’s skyline was visible in the distance as the sun gleamed off the park’s perfectly manicured pathways. It felt almost unpleasant in its peacefulness.
Their ride completed its cycle without incident. Zhang Wei’s fear had evaporated, replaced by a budding confidence. “That wasn't so bad! Maybe the news was wrong! Let’s try the bumper cars!”
Su Yao let him lead her to the bumper cars. They crashed into other vehicles with plastic thuds and electric sparks. Children laughed. Zhang Wei whooped. Su Yao felt nothing but the jarring impact of the cheap plastic steering wheel against her palms.
By the time the sun began to set, Zhang Wei was grinning, clutching a giant stuffed panda he'd won at a ring-toss game. “This was actually fun! I guess they really did fix everything.”
He glanced at the plush toy. “Did you know every panda in any zoo worldwide is just borrowed from China? Our government still owns them all.”
Su Yao stared at the park’s central fountain. It was a complete bust. A waste of an afternoon.
“Come on,” Zhang Wei said, oblivious to her simmering frustration. “Let’s get some cotton candy before we go.”
His finger pointed towards a garish pink stall. A young woman was working the machine. Her back was to them, spinning the sugar into fluffy clouds. She turned to hand a bundle to a waiting child and Zhang Wei froze, eyes widening. “Whoa, Ling Ling. That vendor, she looks a lot like you. I mean, like a lot. She could be your twin sister or something.”
Su Yao’s gaze swept over to her clone. “Coincidence,” she stated flatly. “There are billions of humans. Facial similarities are statistically inevitable.”
She was about to turn away when the first drop hit her nose, then another. A sudden, heavy downpour erupted from the clear, twilight sky, drenching the park in seconds.
Zhang Wei yelped, holding the stuffed panda over his head. “What the heck? It was supposed to be clear all night!”
The cold rain fell in sheets, plastering their hair and clothes to their skin in an instant. Zhang Wei frantically tried to shield the stuffed panda.
“Ah! My clothes! This rain is crazy!” he yelped, turning his face away from the stinging downpour.
Water slid down his neck, stretching the skin as it moved. It cut through the layers of foundation and concealer, washing them away. Beneath the ruined makeup was an intricate, faintly glowing seal. It was her seal, the one she had placed on the spiritual assassin in the alley to force them to grow stronger for a future rematch.
Su Yao’s eyes snapped to his neck. She saw the seal.
A slow, wide smile spread across her face, followed by a low chuckle that grew into full-bodied laughter, cutting through the sound of the pouring rain.
Zhang Wei froze. His blood ran cold. Following her gaze, he touched his neck. His fingers met the exposed, glowing sigil. Confusion faded from his face, replaced by horror. The pretense of being an ordinary boy shattered like glass.
“Y-You,” he stammered. His voice was completely different. It was lower, sharper, and devoid of its previous whining tone.
“You,” Su Yao said. Her laughter subsided into a predator’s grin. “The forgetful texts? The constant, convenient presence since childhood? You were a spy placed to monitor me all along.”
Zhang Wei stood his ground. The rain washed the last of his disguise away, revealing the cold, sharp-featured young man beneath. “The order I received from the government was to observe the vessel, Xiao Ling, for any signs of awakening and report any anomaly. I was the failsafe, placed closest to you.”
Su Yao took a step forward. The rain sizzled slightly as it neared the demonic aura beginning to coil around her. “How delightful,” she purred. “And now you've been exposed. What will you do? Try to kill me now?”
“Kill you?” Zhang Wei let out a sharp, bitter laugh. The sound was utterly foreign coming from him. “I'm a stabilizer. My purpose was to make sure the status quo remained.”
The rain plastered his hair to his forehead, revealing the sharp, focused intensity in eyes that had always seemed so forgetful. “The last great war between factions like yours and the heavenly travelers nearly shattered the mortal realm. The mere idea of a power like you, Su Yao, fully awakening and rallying your old forces, it’s our worst nightmare.”
He took a step back. His body shifted into a ready stance she now recognized from their alleyway fight. “If you awoke, I was to do everything in my power to keep you distracted and entangled in mortal trivialities. The goal was to prevent you from reclaiming your throne and starting another age of chaos.”
Su Yao stared at him through the curtain of rain. Her expression was one of pure, unadulterated exasperation. “A demon queen?” she repeated. Her voice was flat. “You and your government are worried over nothing.”
She made a sharp, dismissive gesture, scattering droplets. “Why does everyone keep insisting I am some world-ending sovereign? That movie was a lie! A sensationalized hack-job!”
Zhang Wei stared. The entire foundation of his mission, the justification for years of his life, was crumbling into absurdity. “But, the records, the legends of your power…”
“Were greatly exaggerated by losers with hangovers!” Su Yao finished, throwing her hands up. “I had power, yes! Enough to make sure the wine never ran dry and the music never stopped! I was a hostess! The Eternal Banquet of the Jade Mountain was legendary!
“It was the one place in all the realms where the wine could intoxicate immortals and the laughter could shake the stars! So what if a few stuffy cultivators drank themselves into a stupor and slept for a few centuries? That was a failure of their own constitution!”
Zhang Wei’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. “The Nine-Tailed Heavenly Fox, the tales of conquered realms…”
“Were greatly exaggerated by losers with hangovers!” Su Yao snapped. “I have little interest in your mortal world’s ‘status quo.’ I am interested in comfortable living, interesting beverages, and not being slandered in cinematic biographies! Is that clear?”
Su Yao watched the cascade of revelations utterly dismantle the assassin’s worldview. Her irritation gave way to a sort of pitying amusement. “Demons are people too,” she stated, as if explaining something obvious to a child. “Most just want to live their lives. The ones who don't, well, they're no different from the human CEOs and politicians your government already deals with.”
She glanced at the glowing seal on his neck. “And that other world-ending threat you're all so worried about? The Crimson Calamity Queen?”
Zhang Wei managed a stiff nod. His mind was clearly reeling.
“She’s studying for the bar exam,” Su Yao said. Her tone was utterly matter-of-fact. “Wants to go into corporate law. Something about the ruthless efficiency of contractual obliteration being more satisfying than the messy, old-fashioned kind.”
The rain seemed to fall in a stunned silence around them.
“You're joking,” Zhang Wei whispered. His voice was hoarse.
“Am I?” Su Yao raised a single, elegant eyebrow. “Your government is pouring resources into monitoring a party host and fearing a future lawyer. Meanwhile, the actual threats are probably hiding in plain sight, running hedge funds or social media companies.”
She let out a short, dry laugh. “You’re bracing for a catastrophe from the spirit world, but the real collapse has already taken root. You just haven’t recognized its shape.”