After squatting on the eaves of Yonghe Temple for five hundred years, I, a sentient glazed roof tile, have finally landed a secure job in the Immortal Realm: the Wish Pool Office!
My boss tossed me a secondhand tablet from the Heavenly Secrets brand, told me to “put your heart into understanding mortal wishes,” then went off to slack around.
The only one assigned to train me was the ghost of an old Qing dynasty eunuch who kept saying “Yes, Your Majesty” and couldn’t figure out what was going on himself.
No one told me humans never mean exactly what they say.
I thought “get rich overnight” meant becoming a rich man with a short fuse, the kind who picks a fight with everyone.
I thought “find a partner” meant helping someone take off their undershirt to cool down.
I thought “good luck in love” meant having a truckload of peach blossoms delivered for landscaping.
I tried my hardest to grant every believer’s wish!
So why do they always go crying to file complaints?
The koi spirit next door, a total workaholic, gets perfect KPI scores every day. My evaluation sheet, meanwhile, is filled with “bad reviews”:
“The wish came true... but not in the way I wanted!”
Then the hashtag #YongheTempleWishesAreScarilyAccurate shot to the top of the trending list...
All of Beijing’s bizarre wishes came flooding to me, a bewildered little demon!
“Make my boss shut up.” “Make my ex go bald.” ...
I clutched my tablet, close to tears: These characters know me, but I don’t know them!
[Laugh-out-loud subversion] [Ridiculous xianxia] [A cute newbie at work]
There are still 9,999 orders left on this month’s KPI. This sincere little demon is online, waiting for your wishes!
