"Don’t release the behind-the-scenes footage." While everyone was still lost in thought over the Tarzan-like scene, Xu Shulou had already quietly sidled up to the film crew’s cameraman.
"Why not?" The cameraman lowered the shoulder-mounted camera, looking puzzled. "This clip would definitely attract fans. You fought so well, and with that fall, once the BTS is out, countless people will praise your dedication."
Xu Shulou hesitated. "What if it accidentally raises industry standards and makes other directors expect their actors to fall off rooftops? That’d be a disaster."
"..." The cameraman opened his mouth, unsure whether their leading lady was being too narcissistic or too humble. "Then... can we release the Tarzan part?"
"Huh? What Tarzan part?" Xu Shulou raised an eyebrow.
"N-Nothing." The cameraman had accidentally let it slip. Covering his face, he ran off.
"..." Why were the crew members all so oddly behaved? Xu Shulou watched his retreating figure with melancholy, completely unaware that she herself was hardly among the few normal ones.
In an unnoticed corner, Song Ping silently climbed down from the rooftop, intending to change out of his costume in the dressing room. But on the way, he ran into Sheng Wuyou.
Perhaps still immersed in the exhilarating fight scene from earlier, Song Ping instinctively performed a formal ancient-style bow. "Miss Sheng."
Under the dim yellow lights, Sheng Wuyou gracefully returned the gesture. "President Song, your fight scene earlier was impressive. Truly eye-opening."
This was her way of clearing the air, no longer misunderstanding his character. Song Ping smiled politely, not pressing further, and stepped aside to let her pass. "After you, miss."
———
The next day, Xu Shulou woke up at noon just as her junior sister Bai Roushuang returned from her asteroid adventure, carrying a bag of fried chicken. She promptly invited Song Ping to join them, and the three gathered in the room to devour the meal. Bai Roushuang held the remote, idly flipping through channels for something interesting.
"Cartoon Piggy…," "Noon news report…," "Scholar Pei Changyu…," "Infomercials…"
"Wait." All three of them caught the name instantly. "Go back to the previous channel."
Bai Roushuang quickly switched back, revealing an archaeology program where the host announced, "Next, we welcome Professor Pei Changyu to share his latest findings."
"..."
"Same name?" Bai Roushuang muttered, eyes glued to the screen. But the man who appeared next had long, loosely tied hair, and despite his modern attire, his ethereal aura was unmistakable. It was none other than their revered master—Elder Changyu.
Watching their master enthusiastically discuss Stonehenge on TV, Song Ping nearly choked on his fried chicken and hastily gulped down some iced milk tea to recover.
Xu Shulou turned to her juniors. "Has Master been staying in the mortal realm all this time?"
"I saw him here before. We even made a bet," Song Ping said awkwardly. "By the way, Shijie, have you heard of Stonehenge?"
Xu Shulou nodded, pulling a small brush from her Qiankun bracelet to evenly coat her fried chicken wing with yogurt sauce.
"Back then, Master bet that Stonehenge was the work of aliens, while I argued it was built by ancient cultivators," Song Ping said with a wry smile. "Then he went off to Salisbury Plain to conduct research."
"When was this?" Xu Shulou asked.
"Ten years ago," Song Ping murmured, still staring at the TV. "You don’t think he’s been there the whole time…?"
"What was the wager?"
Song Ping rubbed his chin. "If he won, I’d have to find him an alien planet’s signature roasted chicken recipe. I thought he was joking."
"...Then he’s probably been researching all this time," Xu Shulou nodded. "He never jokes about roasted chicken."
"..." Song Ping sighed. "Where am I supposed to find alien roasted chicken?"
Bai Roushuang pulled out her phone and searched, actually finding several papers authored by Pei Changyu—all about Stonehenge. "Master actually became a professor? Teaching doesn’t seem like his thing."
Song Ping chuckled. "Aren’t we all his students?"
Bai Roushuang shrugged. "Let’s visit his university someday."
As they chatted, someone knocked on the door.
At Xu Shulou’s "Come in," the director entered, glanced at the empty fried chicken boxes, and looked at her with concern. "Why aren’t you resting more?"
"Resting from what?"
"...You fell off a roof last night."
"Oh, that? I’m fine," Xu Shulou said, eyeing the director, who had been scared stiff yesterday. "I think you were more shaken than I was."
"Ahem," the director changed the subject. "Celebrating something?"
"Celebrating what?"
"You haven’t heard?" The director gestured excitedly. "‘Path to Immortality’ has only aired ten episodes, and it’s already broken the network’s ratings record this year. So? Free tonight? Since we wrapped filming early this week, I’m treating everyone to a feast!"
At the mention of a feast, the trio of gluttons eagerly stood up.
The director eyed the empty box in front of Xu Shulou. "You still have room?"
"Fried chicken isn’t a main course."
"...Fine. I’ll gather the others. Meet at the west parking lot in half an hour."
Thirty minutes later, Xu Shulou and the others arrived at the parking lot, where the director stood under a tree for shade, several minibuses parked nearby. "We’re driving?"
"Yeah," the director side-eyed her. "Don’t think I don’t know—you’ve already dragged the crew to every restaurant near the studio. Half the staff’s faces have rounded out from all the eating. Today, we’re going downtown for something new."
"..."
Though the invitation was last-minute, most of the crew showed up. The studio was located in the suburbs, and Xu Shulou hadn’t yet explored the city properly, so everything felt fresh.
Soon, the minibus merged onto the highway. She sat by the window, watching the bustling metropolis flow past—cars streaming like rivers, skyscrapers towering like steel forests. She had witnessed the mortal realm’s landscapes for countless years, from pavilions and towers to concrete-and-glass giants, from song-filled stages to broadcasts flickering across TV screens.
Every city reminded her of its centuries-old past—the lively crowds, the melodies drifting from the fields, the flutes and lanterns of night markets, the temple towers and wine flags fluttering in the spring breeze, the rosy cheeks and flowing sleeves of bygone eras.
The car window was cracked open, letting in the warm, restless summer wind.
Bai Roushuang suddenly gasped. "Look—doesn’t that black car coming toward us on the opposite lane seem... off?"
Everyone looked up at the sound. The car was swerving erratically, and other vehicles in the same lane had already noticed something was wrong, desperately trying to avoid it. One car nearly crashed into the guardrail while making an emergency swerve.
Song Ping focused his gaze, and with the keen eyesight of a cultivator, quickly identified the issue: "The driver's eyes are closed, and his hands are limp on the steering wheel—he seems to have lost consciousness."
Gasps erupted inside the minibus. This was a highway, and given the car's speed, if the driver didn’t wake up in time, it would likely end in a fatal crash—possibly taking other unsuspecting vehicles with it.
Someone hastily dialed emergency services on their phone. Song Ping stared intently at the car, frowning. "Junior Sister, I’ll try to stop it first—wait, where’s Senior Sister?"
Xu Shulou, who had been quietly enjoying the scenery moments ago, had vanished from her seat without a trace.
Bai Roushuang blinked innocently and pointed at the roof.
Before Song Ping could even lean out to look, as the two vehicles passed each other, something as light as a leaf flitted over from the minibus’s roof.
"What was that?" the passengers exclaimed in shock.
Song Ping sighed wryly. There was only one person that "something" could be—his ever-reliable senior sister.
Xu Shulou had already landed steadily atop the black sedan, crouching slightly as she pressed a hand against the roof.
The minibus passengers were stunned. You actually jumped onto it? Guess those Tarzan stunts in the film set were just child’s play compared to this.
Everyone pressed against the windows, holding their breath, afraid to blink and miss a single thrilling moment.
The director covered his face in horror, while Bai Roushuang leaned out and shouted, "Senior Sister, go through the window! Don’t rip off the roof!"
What kind of warning was that? The sedan didn’t even have a sunroof—how else would Xu Shulou "rip it off"? Tear the entire roof apart? The crew’s bewildered gazes all turned to Bai Roushuang.
Sensing their stares, Bai Roushuang smiled and turned back. "Ripping off car roofs might seem a bit excessive in modern society, huh?"
"…" The group was speechless, every word of that sentence begging for a retort they couldn’t even begin to articulate.
But Bai Roushuang knew her senior sister well. Xu Shulou, who had been about to act on the roof, changed tactics—instead, she balled her fist and punched through the passenger-side window. As the glass shattered, she nimbly slipped inside.
The minibus passengers collectively held their breath. Since they were on a highway, the driver couldn’t just stop, so they craned their necks like sunflowers tracking the sun, nearly snapping them before finally seeing the sedan wobble to a stop by the roadside. A collective sigh of relief followed. Xu Shulou checked the driver’s pulse and gestured from afar—likely signaling that he was still alive.
Even though they knew she probably couldn’t hear them at that distance, everyone broke into applause for her.
At the next service area, the minibus finally pulled over. The group urgently urged the driver to find an exit and turn back, desperate to check on the situation. The driver, equally frantic, abused the navigation system as if he could will it to conjure a nonexistent shortcut.
Bai Roushuang received a message: "Senior Sister says she has to give a statement to the police and tells us not to wait for her. She says to eat well."
"…" Was that the point right now? Who could even think about food at a time like this? Shouldn’t she explain those earth-shattering, tear-jerking moves of hers?
"Oh, there’s another one," Bai Roushuang added, and the group relaxed—of course Xu Shulou was still reliable. Surely there’d be a proper explanation now. Then she continued reading: "She says, remember to pack her a takeaway."
"…"
Under the group’s burning stares, Bai Roushuang nonchalantly took a sip of her orange juice. "So, what are we eating?"
