It was Xiao Ling’s birthday. Cheap paper banners swayed across the small apartment. A store-bought cake with eighteen flickering candles sat in the table. The attendees were a mismatched crew: a bewildered Zhang Wei alongside a bubbly Mei, with Wong Lei oddly thrilled and already acting like the head of party planning.
“Make a wish, Ling Ling!” Mei cheered. Her phone was held up to record the moment.
Wong Lei nodded vigorously. “Yes! But don’t say it out loud, or it won’t come true!”
Su Yao looked at the dancing flames. A wish? A mortal superstition, a plea sent into the void. How quaint and utterly pointless. The ritual demanded participation, however.
She closed her eyes for a brief, dramatic second, then leaned forward and blew. Every single candle snuffed out at once.
“So?” Zhang Wei asked, still looking slightly uncomfortable but trying to play along. “What did you wish for?”
Su Yao opened her eyes. A serene, utterly serious expression settled on her face. “I wished for the moon to crash into the Earth, extinguishing all life in a glorious, instantaneous fireball, so I wouldn’t have to study for my calculus exam next week.”
The room went dead silent.
Mei’s recording phone slowly lowered. Wong Lei’s excited smile melted into a rictus of confusion. Zhang Wei just stared. His brain visibly short-circuited.
“Ling Ling,” Mei finally said. Her voice was a high-pitched squeak. “That’s omnicide.”
“A practical solution to a localized problem,” Su Yao clarified, picking up the cake knife.
Wong Lei found her voice, a tremulous whisper. “But… everyone would die. We would die.”
Su Yao began cutting the cake with precise, surgical motions. “A minor side effect. The point is, I would not have to take the calculus exam. The wish is sound in its logic.”
Zhang Wei finally broke out of his stupor. A nervous laugh escaped him. “Haha, good one, Ling Ling! Really dark! You got us!”
Su Yao paused her slicing and looked directly at him. Her gaze was flat and utterly devoid of humor. “Who said I was joking?”
The nervous laugh died in his throat. The air grew cold. Mei and Wong Lei exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated terror.
Seeing their frozen, horrified faces, Su Yao’s stern expression finally broke. She let out a light, airy laugh that belonged to Xiao Ling.
“Of course I’m joking! Your faces!” she giggled, expertly plating a slice of cake. “As if I’d waste a wish on that. I already have a cheat sheet for the exam.”
The tension shattered. Mei and Wong Lei erupted into relieved, slightly hysterical laughter. Zhang Wei joined in, his a bit too loud, too forced.
“Ooooh, you’re the worst!” Mei shrieked, playfully swatting Su Yao’s arm.
“So scary!” Wong Lei agreed, fanning her face.
Su Yao handed out the cake slices, a perfect, innocent smile on her face. Idiots, she thought. The ancient consciousness savored their delicious, gullible fear far more than the cheap cake she was about to eat. If I had that kind of power, I wouldn't need to waste it on a wish.
Su Yao finished her slice of cake and placed the plate down with a definitive clink. She surveyed her small, bewildered party.
“So,” she began. Her tone shifted from celebratory to analytical. “How old are you all now? Zhang Wei? Mei? Wong Lei?”
They stammered out their ages, all eighteen or recently turned eighteen.
“Good,” Su Yao said with a satisfied nod. “Legally adults, or close enough. Then the real party can begin.”
Before anyone could ask what she meant, she strode over to the refrigerator that her aunt said was “always on, never off” and yanked the door open. Bypassing the leftovers and condiments, she pulled out three cold cans of beer from her aunt’s carefully hoarded stash hidden behind a tub of tofu.
She tossed one to each of them. They fumbled the catches. The cans clattered on the table.
“Ling Ling! Your aunt’s beer!” Mei hissed, staring at the can like it was a live grenade.
“It’s a celebration,” Su Yao stated, as if that explained everything. She popped the tab on her own can with a sharp hiss. “A rite of passage for your newfound adulthood.”
She brought the can to her lips and took a large, expectant swallow.
Immediately, she grimaced. Her face contorted in pure disgust. She spat the mouthful back into the can.
“Ugh! What is this?” she demanded, staring at the offending beverage with utter betrayal. “It tastes like bitter, fermented ditch water! How do you mortals drink this swill?”
The three of them stared. Their own unopened cans were forgotten.
“Modern medicine is a marvel. Your sciences are impressive,” Su Yao continued, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her disdain was visible. “You can replace hearts and talk to people across the world. But your beverages, your beverages are a catastrophic failure of civilization.”
She slammed the half-full can down on the table, making everyone jump.
“This is unacceptable,” she declared. Her eyes glinted with a new, dangerous light. “If this is what passes for celebration, we require an upgrade. Immediately.”
She turned her glare on Zhang Wei. “You. You look like someone who knows where to find something stronger. Something that doesn’t taste like a chemical accident.”
Zhang Wei paled. “I… I don’t…”
“Don’t lie,” Su Yao cut him off. Her voice dropped to a low, compelling murmur. “The night is young. My tolerance is untested. And this beer is an insult. Find us something worthy of a true party. Now.”
The command in her voice was ancient and absolute. It wasn't a request, but a decree from a queen who had just found her court severely lacking.
As if on cue, the apartment door clicked open, cutting through the tense silence. Li Xiu stood there, holding a small, tastefully wrapped gift and a to-go cup of fresh orange juice. She looked flushed, slightly apologetic.
“Sorry I’m late! Grandfather’s condition stabilized, and I just…” Her cheerful explanation trailed off as she took in the scene, from the cheap decorations and cake to the fear written on Mei and Wong Lei’s faces, Zhang Wei cornered and tense, and Su Yao gripping a half-crushed beer can with disgust.
Su Yao’s eyes, sharp and predatory, instantly locked onto the cup in Li Xiu’s hand. The bright, cheerful orange liquid within seemed to glow under the light.
Without a word, Su Yao moved. It was a swift, decisive motion that spoke of absolute intent. She crossed the room in three quick strides and snatched the cup from Li Xiu’s stunned hand, bringing it to her lips.
She took a long, experimental sip.
The room held its breath.
Su Yao lowered the cup. Her expression was one of critical assessment. “Marginally better than the fermented grain water,” she announced.
Her verdict echoed in the stunned silence. “At least it doesn’t actively assault the palate. The sweetness is cloying, however. The oranges used are clearly of inferior quality than what I used to.”
She took another sip, completely appropriating the drink as if it were her birthright.
Li Xiu stood frozen. Her hand was still outstretched from where her drink had been moments before. She blinked, utterly bewildered. “I… that was… my juice…”
“I am aware,” Su Yao said, taking a third sip. “It is mine now. Consider it your birthday tribute. It’s acceptable.”
Mei and Wong Lei could only watch in mute horror, with Zhang Wei frozen beside them. The heiress of the Li family had just been casually robbed of her beverage by their classmate, who was now critiquing it like a wine connoisseur.
Li Xiu’s confusion slowly melted into a strange, amused resignation. She looked at the intense, bizarre girl draining her orange juice and let out a small, helpless laugh. “You are the strangest person I have ever met.”
Su Yao finished the juice and dropped the empty cup into the trash with a perfect swoosh.
“I am aware,” she repeated, turning her gaze back to Zhang Wei. The orange juice seemed to have only sharpened her focus. “Now. About that upgrade. The night isn’t getting any younger, and my patience is finite.”
Zhang Wei flinched under her gaze. “I don’t know where to get anything better! And good stuff is expensive!” he blurted out, a defensive whine in his voice.
Su Yao stared at him for a long, silent moment. Her head tilted as if observing a particularly dull insect. The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable.
“Ah,” she said finally. The sound dripped with condescending realization. “I forgot. You’re poor. My apologies.” The apology was so utterly insincere it was almost an insult in itself.
The party never really recovered after that. Their conversations were strained. The laughter was forced. Soon, Mei and Wong Lei made flimsy excuses and fled. Li Xiu left soon after, still looking deeply perplexed. Zhang Wei slunk out last. His ego was thoroughly shredded.
As the door closed behind him, the cheap paper banners suddenly seemed pathetic. The silence of the small apartment was deafening.
Su Yao looked around at the remnants of the celebration. The crumbs on the plates. The empty juice cup. The three unopened cans of cheap beer.
Graduation was soon. The endless, tedious road of mortal life stretched before her: university, a job, more studying, more toil. The sheer, grinding effort of it all was unappealing.
A thought, lazy and indulgent, crossed her mind. Why are there not more wealthy, besotted men vying for my attention? Men who would provide everything so I wouldn't have to bother with any of this?
The front door opened and closed. It was Zhang Wei, shuffling back in, looking sheepish. “I forgot my phone.”
Su Yao was staring out the window at the city lights, her back to him.
“Zhang Wei,” she said. Her voice was calm and final, cutting through the awkwardness.
“Yeah?”
“Get rich.”
He froze. “W-what?”
“Get rich,” she repeated, turning to face him. Her expression was utterly serious, devoid of any jest. “Acquire significant wealth. Amass a fortune through whatever meager means are available to you in this era. Become someone of consequence. Or die trying. Those are your options.”
He gaped at her. “Ling Ling, that’s crazy! It’s not that simple!”
“It is that simple,” she countered. Her voice was flat. “You either succeed, or you fail. There is no middle ground.”
She took a step closer. The air in the room grew cold.
“If the prospect of acquiring material wealth to provide for a comfortable existence is too daunting for you,” she said, her eyes locking onto his, “then do us both a favor and cease wasting my time. Go find some other girl who is content to struggle and scrape alongside you in perpetual, romanticized poverty.”
She gestured toward the door with a flick of her wrist, a dismissal as absolute as a guillotine’s blade.
“The choice is yours. Now get out. I’m bored of this conversation.”
The door clicked shut, leaving Su Yao alone amidst the party debris. The silence was broken a moment later by her aunt, Su Nuan Nuan, emerging from her bedroom, yawning.
“I heard all the commotion. Did you have fun, A-Ling?” she asked. Her eyes took in the empty beer cans and the stolen juice cup. She zeroed in on the three unopened cans still on the table, then glanced at her now-depleted fridge stash. “And I see you raided the emergency supply.”
“I didn’t have ‘fun’,” Su Yao stated, ignoring the question about the beer. “I was conducting a social experiment. The results were unsatisfactory.”
She started cleaning up, piling the plates quickly and neatly. “Are you not upset about your alcohol?”
Her aunt waved a dismissive hand. A genuine smile was on her face. “Why would I be? We can afford more now. A lot more. A few cans of beer are nothing.” The relief of financial security was still a fresh, wonderful feeling for her.
Su Yao paused her cleaning. A new thought occurred to her. She looked at her aunt. “Speaking of affording things. What is the most financially lucrative career path available in this era?”
Su Nuan Nuan blinked, surprised by the sudden serious question. She leaned against the doorway, thinking. “Hmm. Well, doctors and lawyers make good money. Tech jobs, if you’re brilliant. Investment banking, but that’s brutal.”
She then chuckled. “Or, you could try being an actress. Those big stars make ridiculous money for pretending to be other people. Why? Planning for your careers already?”
The word actress seemed to echo in the quiet apartment.
Pretending to be other people.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Su Yao’s face. It was a smile her aunt had never seen before: an expression of cold, ancient cunning.
“An actress,” Su Yao repeated. The word tasted like a rare vintage on her tongue. “Yes. That might do perfectly.”
She looked past her aunt. Her gaze focused on something far away. “It seems I have a new career goal,” she murmured. The cleanup was forgotten.
“How does one become an actress?” Su Yao asked. Her voice cut through the domestic quiet. The question was delivered with the gravity of a strategist inquiring about an enemy’s weak point.
Her aunt paused while wiping down the counter. “An actress? Well, you usually go to drama school. Or you get discovered. But mostly, you audition.”
“Audition,” Su Yao repeated, filing the term away.
“Yeah,” her aunt continued, oblivious to the ancient gears turning behind her niece’s eyes. “When a new movie or show is announced, they hold tryouts or casting calls. Anyone can go, but it’s tough. You’re up against hundreds of other girls.”
She chuckled, tossing the rag into the sink. “Why the sudden interest? Got a starry-eyed dream after your party?”
Su Yao ignored the question. “Where are these auditions held?”
“Oh, all over. Studios, mostly. Sometimes hotels.” Her aunt’s face lit up with a memory. “You know, the place I used to temp at, Golden Dragon Channel, they’re always making those cheesy dramas.”
Su Yao’s eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly. “A television network,” she said calmly. “That implies a steady production cycle and influence over public perception.” She nodded once, as if confirming a calculation only she could see. “Continue.”
“I think I saw online they’re having an open casting call soon for that Modern Exorcist show. The one we were watching. Probably looking for a new victim—I mean, guest star.” She laughed at her own joke.
The name Golden Dragon Channel landed in Su Yao’s mind as a target.
Modern Exorcist, the show that had televised the humiliation of her old comrade.
A perfect, glittering opportunity fell into her lap.
“An open casting call,” Su Yao murmured. A predator’s smile graced her lips. “At Golden Dragon Channel. For Modern Exorcist.”
She looked at her aunt. The plan was already fully formed. “What impeccable timing.”
Without another word, she turned and walked toward her room. She had research to do and a persona to craft if she wanted to win the audition.
Su Yao’s fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the details for Golden Dragon Channel’s open casting call. The website was garish, plastered with images of the overly dramatic actor from Modern Exorcist striking poses with his prop sword.
She scanned the announcement. Her initial anticipation curdled into something else entirely.
They were not, as her aunt had guessed, casting for a ‘victim’ or a ‘guest spirit.’
The bold text read:
OPEN CALL: AUDITIONS FOR THE ROLE OF ‘XIAO QING’, THE EXORCIST’s FIERCELY RIGHTEOUS FEMALE SIDEKICK!
Below it was a character description that made Su Yao’s teeth ache.
Must embody purity of spirit and an unwavering dedication to the righteous path, with a fierce hatred for all demonic evils! A beacon of hope and virtue!
A slow, incredulous breath hissed through Su Yao’s teeth. The sheer, offensive irony of it was staggering.
They wanted her.
The Nine-Tailed Heavenly Fox, former hostess of the Jade Mountain Banquet and a being of ancient, amoral power, to audition for the role of a righteous sidekick. A character whose sole purpose was to spout platitudes and hate things like her.
A low, dangerous rumble of pure, undiluted amusement escaped her throat.
This was better. So much better.
Playing a victim would have been a simple infiltration. Playing the heroine? That was a masterpiece of subversion. It was the perfect disguise. Who would ever suspect the embodiment of righteousness on screen was, in fact, the very thing she was pretending to hunt?
She could use their own sanctimonious narrative against them. She could get close to the production, learn its secrets, all while laughing behind a mask of virtue.
A truly wicked smile spread across her face. She would give them a performance they would never forget.
She closed the laptop and stood up. A new energy thrummed through her. She walked back into the main room where her aunt was now watching a soap opera.
“Auntie,” Su Yao announced. Her voice rang with a false, bright conviction that made Su Nuan Nuan look up in surprise. “I have found my calling.”
“Oh? The actress thing?”
“Yes. I will audition for the role of the righteous female exorcist. I will become a beacon of hope and virtue.” The words should have tasted like ash, but they tasted like victory.
Her aunt blinked, then beamed. “Oh, A-Ling! That’s a wonderful goal! So pure!”
“Yes,” Su Yao said. Her eyes gleamed with a light her aunt mistook for determination. “Pure.” She turned to go practice her lines. The ghost of a smirk played on her lips.
Let’s see how righteous they want their heroine to be, she thought. I’ll give them a performance so devout it’ll curdle their souls.
The wicked amusement still glittering in her eyes, Su Yao picked up her phone and dialed Mei. She answered on the second ring.
“Ling Ling! How was the rest of your—”
“I won’t be at school tomorrow,” Su Yao interrupted. Her voice was a flat, casual statement.
“What? Why? Are you sick? Do you need me to bring you notes?” Mei’s concern was immediate and genuine.
“Something came up,” Su Yao said. Her gaze drifted to the Modern Exorcist webpage still open on her laptop. “A family matter. It can’t be avoided.”
It wasn't a lie. She considered her plan to infiltrate the righteous bastion of television her aunt used to work at a very pressing family matter of her own.
“Oh! Okay, sure! No problem!” Mei chirped, instantly switching to supportive best friend mode. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to come over after school?”
“No,” Su Yao said. Her tone left no room for argument. “I will be occupied. I’ll see you the day after.”
“Alright… well, feel better! Or, good luck with the family thing!”
“Mm.” Su Yao ended the call without another word.
She tossed the phone onto her bed. The mundane logistics of mortal life were such a tedious necessity. But tomorrow, she would trade calculus for casting calls, textbooks for television scripts.
A faint, genuine smile touched her lips. Playing the role of a righteous exorcist was going to be the most fun she’d had in centuries.