Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ten o’clock at night. In a girls’ dormitory, Li Ying and I sat facing each other at a desk. A sheet of white paper lay spread out on the tabletop, with two characters written on the left and right sides: “Yes” and “No.”

Our hands were crossed back-to-back, a red pencil sandwiched between them, standing straight up from the desk.

Li Ying looked at me and took a deep breath.

“Qiaoqiao, are you ready?”

“Cut! Uh, Qiao Moyu, come over here for a second.”

The Director suddenly called a halt. I set the pencil down and walked over, totally baffled.

“What’s wrong, Director? Was my expression off?”

The Director cleared his throat awkwardly, then shoved a gorgeous young woman out from behind him.

“Her name is Ye Ran. She’ll do this scene today. You pack up and go back to rest. Tomorrow I’ll have accounting settle your pay.”

I stared at him, stunned.

“What? What does that mean? Didn’t you invite me here?”

My name is Qiao Moyu. I’m a junior at Nanjiang University-and the only Earth Master successor of this era.

An Earth Master was also called a Feng Shui practitioner in ancient times.

There’s a saying: first-rate Earth Masters read the stars, second-rate wind masters seek the water’s mouth, and third-rate “masters” are everywhere. These days, most of the ones walking the world are ordinary Feng Shui practitioners. Those who could truly observe the stars and read Qi served in the Imperial Astronomical Bureau back in ancient times, working for the imperial household.

My Qiao family’s ancestors served as the Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, and our line also passed down the position of Sect Master of Feng Sect.

Not long ago, Director Zhou called me. He said they were shooting a campus supernatural film and wanted me to play a supporting female role: “Qiaoqiao.”

According to the script, Qiaoqiao would play the Pen Spirit game with her roommate, accidentally summon an evil ghost, and then die miserably in her dorm bed the next morning.

The role didn’t have many scenes, but Director Zhou couldn’t shake the unease in his heart.

To make the effect feel real, the crew had chosen an abandoned school as the location-somewhere people had actually died before. And they’d even consulted a relevant master about the exact Pen Spirit procedure.

“Master Qiao, I’m afraid something might happen to the actresses. If you’re here to oversee things, I’ll feel a lot more at ease.”

Director Zhou wore me down until I finally agreed. I’d even gotten a week off from school for this. And now they were just telling me I wasn’t acting anymore?

“I was brought in by your Assistant Director Zhou. He never told me I wouldn’t be acting.”

I frowned. Ye Ran, standing at the side, immediately rolled her eyes and snorted.

“Oh-so you admit it, it was the Assistant Director. The Director is the biggest one here. If the Director tells you to leave, why are you still standing around?”

“Wait. I’ll call Director Zhou first.”

When I pulled out my phone, the Director clicked his tongue, impatient.

“So you won’t take the hint, huh?”

“Yeah. Why are you being so shameless and hanging around? Trying to squeeze out more money? I’ve seen people like you plenty-clinging to any little chance you get. Who knows how you even landed this role.”

Ye Ran lifted a dainty hand and nudged her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. The Director hurried to placate her.

“It’s fine, Little Ye. Don’t waste your anger on someone like this. You go on.”

“Lights, camera-ready!”

I tried to speak again, but the Director shot me a vicious glare and jabbed a finger toward the door.

“Qiao Moyu, keep this up and I’ll have someone throw you out!”

“Fine. If a ghost is determined to die, no amount of good advice will save it. Go on. Film. Film all you want.”

I stopped arguing. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I went off to the side, found a decent spot, dragged over a chair, and sat down to watch the mess unfold.

Ye Ran swayed her hips as she sashayed over and sat across from Li Ying. The Director was just about to call for the take when she suddenly raised her hand, turned sideways, and waved toward the camera.

“Wait, Director! You can’t shoot my right profile! My left side looks better than my right. How about this-Li Ying and I switch seats.”

Ye Ran stalled and fussed, tossing out one demand after another. When they finally started, her movements were stiff as a board, and the Director called cut several times.

On the fourth take, she finally did much better. The Director had just started to relax when a shrill ringing suddenly blared from a nearby table.

“Ring ring ring-”

The Director leapt up from his chair.

“Damn it, who put an alarm clock here?!”

On a small table beside him sat a pink rabbit alarm clock. The hands ticked away, pointing straight at eleven o’clock.