Chapter 4: Top Student
When Jellyfish Dada was still, it was transparent, so quiet it seemed not to exist, but when it moved, it dripped water all over.
Given that Hua Ji was facing Director Yu from the side, in Director Yu’s eyes, it appeared that Hua Ji, playing Feng Huixue, was bowing her head and sobbing softly. The tears falling from the corners of her eyes were incredibly transparent, yet strangely carried a bright luster. In that moment, this confidant of the third male lead seemed to be made of colored glass—breathtakingly beautiful.
Director Yu slammed the table excitedly: “That’s exactly the feeling!!”
These days, to boost viewership ratings, you need highly controversial characters—like this Feng Huixue. The character setup required Feng Huixue to speak with a slightly feminine tone, to have a charm in her features that men didn’t possess, to handle matters swiftly and ruthlessly, and to be fiercely loyal to her master, ultimately dying a tragic death at the hands of the second male lead.
A character with such an appealing setup would definitely spark discussion once aired, and as the one who created that buzz, Hua Ji would certainly become famous.
At first, Director Yu wanted to give this role to an opera xiaosheng, but who knew that Wangu Entertainment would suddenly call and specifically request this role? Even the top boss, Chuangxia Media, agreed, and even the investors had no objections, so Director Yu had no choice but to agree to a meeting.
He had previously stated solemnly that if the other party did not meet his expectations, he had the right to veto.
Whether it was Wangu Entertainment, Chuangxia Media, or even the investors, they all agreed to Director Yu’s request.
Because they all clearly understood that letting a fox demon play a fox demon—if she still failed to qualify, that fox demon would become the biggest laughingstock in this year’s Zhonghua non-human circle. For this reason alone, Hua Ji would put in her utmost effort to act.
Sure enough, Director Yu lavished praise on Hua Ji: “Very good. Go back and think it over some more.”
Hua Ji smiled stiffly. His hair was somewhat damp, and he wanted to use his demonic power to evaporate the water, but he was also afraid that the Jellyfish would be unwilling. Beside him, Li Shunhua’s expression was also somewhat stiff. In that instant just now, it had felt as if he were being stared at by an ancient ferocious beast, as though he would die the very next second.
If Director Yu had a video camera on hand to play it back, he would have been able to see that Li Shunhua, who was facing Hua Ji directly, had worn an expression of terror and despair at that moment, and at the same time, the little girl in the white dress beside Director Yu had also been about to spring up to save someone, her expression panicked.
But fortunately, in that instant, Hua Ji’s performance had greatly conquered Director Yu, causing Director Yu, the screenwriter, and the assistant to all focus their attention on Hua Ji, and not notice Li Shunhua or the little girl in the white dress.
Director Yu signaled that Hua Ji could leave. Hua Ji gave a stiff bow, then without even glancing at Li Shunhua, whose expression was shifting unpredictably, turned and walked away.
After he left, a puddle of water appeared on the ground for no apparent reason.
Li Shunhua silently tapped the ground with his toe, and the puddle of water vanished instantly.
All of this happened silently and without a sound; Director Yu and the other ordinary people didn’t notice a thing.
Director Yu lowered his head and wrote down Hua Ji’s name in his notebook, then turned to the little girl in the white dress beside him and said, “This Hua Ji’s performance is very good. You can learn a lot from her.”
The little girl in the white dress gave a dry smile. She said cautiously, “Director Yu, I’d like to go to the restroom.”
Director Yu checked his watch and nodded understandingly. “Go ahead. I just had some ideas anyway—let those interviewees wait ten minutes.”
Director Yu turned to discuss Fenghui Xue’s storyline with the screenwriter. Judging by Hua Ji’s performance, it seemed they could add some more endearing traits—like a fondness for embroidery or something? Heh.
The little girl in the white dress turned and went to the restroom, and Li Shunhua secretly followed her.
The little girl grabbed Li Shunhua’s hand and said in terror, “Senior Brother, you lied to me! Monsters are terrifying!”
In that instant, the killing intent released by that transparent monster was so terrifying that the little girl felt as if she had died once, it was that agonizing.
Li Shunhua comforted his junior sister: “Ahe, don’t worry. I’ll have someone look into it later.”
The young girl’s surname was He. In Daoist circles, everyone called her A He, and her full name was He Baiyuan. She was just starting out, and when she heard that acting was the fastest way to experience the prosperity of the mortal world, she decided she wanted to be a leading lady.
A He grabbed her senior brother’s sleeve and said worriedly, “Senior Brother, is this really okay? That senior is really formidable. Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
Li Shunhua said smugly, “It’s fine. This is proper procedure. The state has regulations—monsters who come down from the mountains have to register. That limp, spineless senior on the dead fox’s head definitely hasn’t registered, otherwise we would have received a notice!”
Only then did A He let out a long breath of relief. “That’s good. I don’t want to drag you down, Senior Brother.”
“You just focus on reading the script!”
Hua Ji returned to his apartment as fast as he could.
“Great Jellyfish, you’re awake?”
The jellyfish came down from Hua Ji’s head, using its four tentacles as limbs, and steadily surveyed the apartment. After looking around, the Great Jellyfish asked Hua Ji, “You were so sad just now—why did you stop me?”
Hua Ji tried to explain clearly: “That was acting, acting, you know? Like the performers on stage in the old days!”
Master Shuimu understood instantly: “Oh, I get it! Those were all just performances, right?”
Hua Ji nodded repeatedly: “Yes, yes.”
Master Shuimu asked: “Then how will I tell in the future when you’re acting?”
Hua Ji thought for a moment and said, “How about this: if I’m not acting, I’ll shout ‘Dada, please let me cling to your thigh,’ okay?”
Shuimu Dada agreed.
It then said, “Are you free?”
Hua Ji thought about it—other than secluding himself to study new scripts, there wasn’t much else going on.
“Before the film’s cast is finalized, I probably won’t have much going on.”
Oh right, I also need to call Yan Hudie to let her know. Hua Ji pulled out his phone, and while texting Yan Hudie, he said, “What is it, Great Shuimu? Is something the matter?”
Great Shuimu leaned in, carefully studying the Apple phone in Hua Ji’s hand, and said, “Yes. Teach me how to use all human devices, and I need books.”
As a veteran lurker, Great Shuimu would surface from the sea every few hundred years to learn about the planet’s culture and catch up on its progress. Currently, its progress bar was still stuck three hundred years in the past, and it urgently needed to catch up.
Hua Ji was stunned, and the more he thought about it, the more terrified he became.
This great Jellyfish was way more badass than those demons on the mountain.
Demons who had just come down from the mountain had minds as simple as a blank sheet of paper, but what about the one in front of him? This one could even sing Peking opera!
At that thought, he didn’t dare pull any little tricks, and directly introduced the highest-quality learning tool to the great Jellyfish: a laptop.
“I’ll gift you a laptop!”
Hua Ji gave an embarrassed laugh. “Of course, as for which specific one you want, we can discuss that once you’ve gotten familiar with it. For now, you can use my laptop.”
Then he taught the Great Jellyfish how to power it on and off, and how to use a search engine. As for reading and writing, the Great Jellyfish knew traditional Chinese characters and could barely make them out—worst case, there was always online translation!
The only thing that required a solemn warning was…
“Great Master Jellyfish, you must be careful—whatever you do, don’t let water get into the keyboard. This thing can’t touch water.”
Great Master Jellyfish looked at its own tentacles and promised, “Don’t worry, I can control it.”
Hua Ji headed to the bathroom to shower, turning back to look again and again with every step. Great Master Jellyfish learned pinyin in seconds and began clattering away at the keyboard, using Baidu and Google.
Great Master Jellyfish first searched for the word “education,” then came to understand the current national education system. It then Baidu’d PDF files of elementary school textbooks for grades one through six, downloaded them, and began reading with great relish.
Half an hour later, Hua Ji came out after his shower. He walked up behind Shuimu Dada and was horrified to discover that Shuimu Dada was reading a middle school textbook.
His voice was spinning.
“You’re reading a textbook?”
Shuimu nodded, and the middle school textbook PDF in front of him flipped page after page with a swish-swish-swish.
Hua Ji said in disbelief, “You read it that fast? Do you understand it?”
Yokai memory is inhuman, but memorizing something doesn’t mean understanding it.
Shuimu-dada turned its head and gave Hua Ji a stingy glance. Light dots flickered across its milky-white little bell. Hua Ji remembered—these were all Shuimu-dada’s eyes.
Shuimu-dada repeated, “Four tentacles are managed by one brain. Even I don’t know how many brains I have. This stuff is very simple—one glance and you’ve got it.”
Hua Ji walked away with a wooden expression.
As a slacker student, he didn’t want to talk to a top student.
Hua Ji quietly played on his phone by himself, while the great Shuimu speed-read through books to learn. An hour later, someone knocked on the door.
Hua Ji went to open the door. He thought it was Yan Hudie, but when he opened it and took a look, his expression instantly changed.
“I’m the director of the National Magical Creature Protection Club. I heard another one came down from your mountain? Why didn’t it go take the exam?”
The newcomer wore a suit, spoke in an official tone, had a big belly, and wore a smile that reeked of hypocrisy.
This was the Magical Creature Protection Club under the National Bureau of Paranormal Affairs. Just from the name, one could tell—it specialized in managing spirit creatures that came down from the mountains.
Hua Ji twitched the corner of his mouth. This guy’s surname was Yuan. He was once a great monk at a certain temple, best known for his ability to identify spirit creatures. Then he’d returned to secular life and run off to a government department to become a human X-ray.
He let Monk Yuan in and pointed at Shuimu Dada, who was inside clacking away at the keyboard. “Senior has only just come down from the mountain. I just taught him how to use a laptop. Even if he’s going to take the exam, it’ll have to wait a bit longer.”
Monk Yuan’s smile carried a peculiar undertone. “Wait a bit longer? How long is that? The longer you linger in the mortal world, the more you’ll have to pay a residency fee, you know.”
Hua Ji sneered inwardly. These vampires—before he could even speak, a transparent tentacle had somehow found its way onto Monk Yuan’s forehead.
Monk Yuan was stunned.
Hua Ji lowered his head and couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement. Truly worthy of being the great jellyfish with the most transparent, longest, softest, and silent tentacles!
This tentacle twisted and turned, winding around three times before reaching Monk Yuan’s forehead—no wonder it gave Monk Yuan such a fright!
The milky-white little tentacle dropped down from Monk Yuan’s forehead, landing right in front of Monk Yuan’s big eyes.
A small umbrella cap appeared on the little tentacle, and the cap split open with an extremely human-like expression, revealing a pitch-black gaping mouth full of barbs.
He said: “When is the exam? What will be tested? Is there an exam scope? Are there specific mock exam questions? Do we need to pay? What about the exam time? What can we bring? Are there study guides? When will the results be released? How do you guarantee the fairness of the results? Can I supervise your grading? How many points count as a pass? Do you have a pass rate? Who grades the exams? What kind of answers count as passing? According to the standard answers or the grader’s subjective answers, blah blah blah…”
Yuan the Monk and Hua Ji were simultaneously dumbfounded.
Jellyfish was immensely pleased with himself, thinking, a bunch of little brats—could anything be harder than the imperial examinations?