The drama room at St. Jude's High was a graveyard of broken dreams, half-painted wooden trees, and a pervasive smell of stale gym socks. Chen Feng stood on the small, rickety stage, his pashmina scarf billowing even though there was no breeze.
"Acting," Chen Feng declared, pacing like a caged panther, "is not about pretending. It is about becoming. If you are playing a tree, I want to see your roots deep in the floorboards. If you are playing a broken-hearted lover, I want your tears to have the salinity of a Mediterranean tide!"
The students stared. They were used to "Mrs. Higgins," who mostly let them watch High School Musical while she graded papers.
"Mr. Chen," piped up a girl named Chloe, holding a script. "This scene is just about two people arguing over a sandwich. It's not that deep."
"Not deep?" Chen Feng's eyes flashed a dangerous shade of lilac. "A sandwich is never just a sandwich. It is sustenance! It is the struggle for resources! It is the crumbs of a failing relationship!"
Just as Chen Feng was about to manifest a literal rainstorm inside the theater to help them "feel the gloom," his phone vibrated with a ringtone he had set to a very specific, high-frequency alarm.
It was Lin Xia.
He signaled Gary—who was currently dressed in blue overalls and aggressively mopping the same three-foot square of floor—to take over. "Keep them in the 'Sorrow Pose,' Gary! If anyone moves a muscle, make them scrub the light fixtures!"
Chen Feng ducked into the costume closet, surrounded by moth-eaten capes and plastic swords. He swiped to answer.
"Xia! My star! My muse! I was just—"
"Chen Feng." Her voice was like an ice pick. "Are you currently in a closet? I hear the sound of someone crying in the background."
"That's just the ensemble cast," Chen Feng whispered, leaning against a rack of sequined vests. "They're experiencing 'Emotional Resonance.' It's a very advanced technique."
"Advanced technique?" Xia's voice rose an octave. "I haven't heard from you in weeks! You vanished from a Czech library—which, by the way, is currently only stocked with books about hamsters—and now you're in America? Am I even on your mind anymore, or am I just a guest star in the 'Chen Feng Variety Hour'?"
"Xia, baby, you're the leading lady! The plot revolves around you!" Chen Feng apologized frantically, his hands gesturing wildly in the dark closet. "I was just... I was evading! You know how it is. The Alliance has these satellites, and the Regional Deities have these very judgmental dragons—"
"I don't care about the dragons!" Xia shouted. "I'm sitting here in Asia, worrying if you've been turned into a golden waffle or if you've finally lost your mind, and you're out there playing Shakespeare with teenagers!"
"I am deeply, cosmically sorry," Chen Feng said, his voice dropping into its most sincere Sovereign bass. "I'll send you a bouquet of flowers that never wilt. I'll rename a nebula after you. I'll make the moon turn pink for ten minutes tonight!"
"I don't want a pink moon, Chen Feng. I want to be where the chaos is."
There was a long silence on the line. Chen Feng realized he had finally pushed the "Salted Fish" boundaries too far. Even a Sovereign needs a co-star.
"Wait," Chen Feng said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"My father has business in the States," Xia said, her tone softening but still firm. "And coincidentally, St. Jude's has an excellent exchange program. I'll be there by Monday. And Chen Feng?"
"Yes, my light?"
"If you cast me as the 'Back half of a horse' in your play, I will personally help the Gala Five find your 'Void Box'."
"You're the lead, Xia! I'll rewrite the whole script! It'll be a masterpiece!"
Chen Feng stepped out of the closet, beaming. He clapped his hands, and a wave of pure, concentrated "Thespian Energy" rippled through the room.
"Back to work!" he roared. "The lead has been cast! Now, Chloe, you said the sandwich wasn't deep? Let's try that again."
He snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Chloe didn't just feel like she was acting. The Emperor's First Breath, tucked in Chen Feng's pocket, leaked a tiny bit of primordial essence. Chloe's eyes widened. She looked at the prop sandwich (which was actually a sponge) and began to weep with such profound, existential agony that even Gary stopped mopping.
"THE BREAD!" Chloe shrieked, falling to her knees. "IT REPRESENTS THE DRYNESS OF MY SOUL! WHY IS THERE NO MAYO ON THE PATH TO ENLIGHTENMENT?!"
The boy playing opposite her was suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of "Viking Rage." He flipped the prop table. "THEN WE SHALL FEAST IN VALHALLA, WOMAN! BRING ME THE TURKEY SLICES!"
"Perfect," Chen Feng whispered, wiping a tear from his eye as the students began to perform with enough intensity to power a small city.
"Pure art. Gary, get the camera. The world isn't ready for 'The Sandwich of Destiny'."
Monday couldn't come soon enough. He just had to make sure the school didn't burn down before Xia arrived.