Microwave Exorcism

Morning arrived with no regard for Yanyu’s traumatic night.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains like a lie. Birds chirped. Her alarm blared. Her possessed cat lay across her face like a furry demon weighing down her soul.

She sat up slowly, half expecting the ghost to be gone and her life to make sense again.

Nope.

There he was.

Shen Weizhi stood near her cluttered bookshelf, hands clasped behind his back like a palace guard. His translucent form floated slightly above the ground, casting no shadow, emitting a constant air of elegant judgment.

“You sleep like a dropped corpse,” he said casually.

Yanyu groaned. “Good morning to you, oh mighty fashion ghost.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You drooled on your pillow.”

“Get out.”

“I cannot.”

“Then shut up.”

---

She stumbled into the kitchen, determined to reclaim at least one normal moment from her cursed life. She stuffed instant noodles into the microwave and stared at it with the intensity of someone who had given up on everything but sodium.

Behind her, Shen drifted through the door—literally. His robes fluttered like clouds. “What is that strange device?”

“My microwave,” she grumbled. “It heats food.”

“It’s… humming.”

“Like a cursed frog. Don’t look directly at it or it might possess you next.”

He tilted his head as the microwave beeped, then lunged forward, placing his palm on it like a battlefield medic.

Yanyu choked. “WAIT NO—!”

Too late.

There was a loud zap of spiritual energy. The microwave shook. The lights flickered. Shen yanked his hand back with a startled scowl, eyes glowing briefly.

“You dared challenge me,” he muttered to the appliance.

“You just tried to exorcise my ramen!”

Shen sniffed. “It was clearly harboring malevolent energy.”

“That was my lunch!”

---

The moment she turned to retrieve her ghost-murdered noodles, her phone buzzed with a message from Zhao Ruru:

ZHAO RURU:

💖 bruh are u DEAD? u missed exorcism club again

😤 i swear to goddess i will hold a séance just to yell at u

Yanyu stared at the screen and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Shen asked, still side-eyeing the microwave like it might bite.

“I have a club meeting. And you can’t come.”

“You are spiritually bound to me,” he said simply.

“You’re not a clingy exorcist boyfriend from a C-drama.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I am definitely that.”

She blinked. “You want to come?”

“I must ensure you don’t make your curse worse through your usual… incompetence.”

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

---

Fifteen minutes later, Yanyu had showered (with Shen politely floating outside the door muttering commentary about “modern water torture devices”) and was headed to campus, hair still damp, talismans stuffed into her backpack like snacks.

Shen hovered invisibly beside her, making snide remarks about traffic, signage, and fashion choices of literally everyone they passed.

“Is that man wearing… slippers with socks?”

“Focus, Shen.”

“That woman’s eyebrows are unnatural.”

“Focus!”

“You’re stepping into another cursed leyline.”

“…Wait, what?”

She stopped mid-step.

The wind shifted.

The street darkened.

And just ahead—hovering near the entrance of the Exorcism Club’s dingy little campus basement—a translucent, weeping child spirit turned and looked directly at her.

Yanyu took a slow step back. Shen narrowed his glowing eyes.

“Well,” he muttered. “I suppose the day won’t be boring.”

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