Scene 2 - Guanyin and the Rogue

(With a muffled sound from the sky, the director made a dazzling entrance—a silent fart doesn't stink, so it was a muffled sound.

All the audience members stood up, filled with excitement, raising their noble hands. The entire world was instantly drowned out by one voice—the sound of "Stinky Goose Egg" breaking through the air.

The director, calmly, said, "You are all so enthusiastic, this humble one is overwhelmed~~~~~~~~ Ah~~~~~~~~ YA, who the heck threw the quail egg?")

Scene Two: A dark and slippery path. The entire path was surprisingly clean, with not a speck of trash visible. No, there was one piece of trash on the ground, and only one: a VCD. On it was written a couplet. The upper line read: "To be human and not watch Path of the Wicked Dragon"; the lower line read: "Heaven will castrate you with three knives"; the horizontal scroll read: "You have to watch it even if you don't want to!"

(Complaint hotline:

Enthusiastic Viewer C [Xiao Bo]: "You can't film pig farts to this extent!"

Enthusiastic Viewer D [Dragon Throne]: "Exactly, exactly. Pig Head is already 160, and if you film more, he'll be 161!"

The director ignored the above individuals: "Guess why the castration is three knives? No prize for guessing correctly.")

Swish, the camera suddenly focused on the end of the path. A figure, well, to be precise, a humanoid shadow. Do you know what it means to stand improperly or walk improperly? This person took that phrase to its extreme, so much so that even the brilliant and mighty director, myself, couldn't determine if it was a [person].

"Hoo~~~~~~~~~~ This damn ghost weather, I'm about to be steamed to death." The humanoid shadow walked from the darkness into the light.

(Director's friendly reminder: Please watch the following scene with parental supervision!)

A pair of worn-out flip-flops, a pair of oversized beach shorts—unzipped; withered yellow body hair drifted with the person's movements; a large shirt with every color in the world—unbuttoned, revealing a pale and emaciated body so exposed with foreskin covering half its face; a cigar at least 0cm long desperately burning itself, bringing pleasure to others; as for the flowing hair, one couldn't bear to look, fearing they might "fall in love with your hair~~~~~~" He cursed incessantly—I think he wasn't greeting the national football team.

The source of his walking power was that unzipped area. With every step, he first forcefully straightened himself, and then his legs would slowly alternate forward at a reluctant pace—perhaps that area was his Dantian Qi Sea. What is considered innate talent?

He slowly and steadily moved from the left side of the path to the right.

(Director's friendly reminder again: Please prepare tissues regardless of gender. Men prepare to wipe nosebleeds, women prepare to wipe tears.)

"Ding ding ding~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~" The sound of rapid and uniform high heels echoed from the other end of the path.

A moon like a searchlight shone directly down from the heavens, fiercely illuminating the owner of the high heels—the director reveals: "Chang'e and Wu Gang went to see Avatar tonight, so only Zhu Bajie is up there, uh, you know!"

Low neckline, high slit, massive chest, perky buttocks, slender waist, long legs, delicate hands, red lips, exquisite nose, charming eyes, fine eyebrows, snow-white skin, flowing hair. A thousand words converge into one sentence: "This is a heavenly disaster!"

She swiftly and seductively slinked from the right side of the path towards the left.

(Instant message: Due to a certain viewer not listening to the director's advice and not preparing tissues, they are now severely anemic and have been rushed to the hospital for a blood transfusion. Please have their family go to the hospital to pay the bill as soon as possible. This viewer's name is: Passerby!)

As if destined, dry wood and raging fire met in the middle of the path, slightly to the left—who is the dry wood? Who is the raging fire?

(At this moment, beautiful and fitting background music played—"Aquarius": "When I'm alone, I'm Aquarius, Meee~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~")

"Pa!!!" With a swift hand, he who had moved from the left was met by her who had slinked from the right. With a chop, he was downed and carried away.

Disappearing into the vast night~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Director's message: "Often, men are the victims of sexual harassment!")

"Chekhov, it's impossible between us."

"No~~~~~~ it's not like that!"

"I have everything I want now, what can you give me?"

"I..."

"Heh heh, I didn't expect she was still a virgin. She was so wild in bed, haha, Chekhov, you son of a bitch, you don't deserve her?"

"Let's go, I have nothing to do with him anymore!"

"Hahahahahahaha~~~~~~~~~~ Chekhov, my poor little dog, I don't mind throwing her to you to play with once I'm tired of her, haha~~~~~~~~~~"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"

"Ah~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"

Two screams sounded almost simultaneously on that super-large waterbed.

Chekhov trembled uncontrollably, desperately clutching his hair, cold sweat flowing like water. His naked, emaciated body flushed with an abnormal redness.

The woman beneath him closed her eyes tightly, her face displaying a benevolent smile only Guanyin Bodhisattva possessed—so pure, so inviolable. Such an expression in such a setting was enough to drive one mad.

Fifteen minutes later.

Chekhov finally stopped trembling, and the woman opened her eyes.

Chekhov silently got up, sat on the edge of the bed, and said in a low voice, "You, leave, tip."

A black gold bank card shot from his hand to the woman's side.

The woman quietly looked at Chekhov, her smile never wavering.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'll kill you! Get out~~~" As he uttered the last word, the window glass within a hundred-mile radius cracked into the smallest particles—miraculously: shattered but not dispersed.

The woman said nothing, merely putting on her clothes. She didn't take the unlimited black gold card but instead took a photo from Chekhov's clothes and turned to leave.

Chekhov's lips moved, but he ultimately didn't stop the woman's actions, only muttering a low, mocking curse: "That's my only photo, heh~~~"

Suddenly, a Buddhist chant echoed from afar: "Amitabha~~~~ This humble monk's dharma name is [Joyful Guanyin], and worldly people call me [Bewitching Guanyin]. This humble monk has descended to undergo tribulation, and I have been in the mortal world for over a hundred thousand years, unable to find a destined person to help me escape. I never expected that person to be you. Amitabha, Amitabha~~~ This humble monk is about to return to my position. The karma between us, I have left behind. If we are destined, we will meet again. Amitabha~~~~~~~~~~"

The night sky instantly became as bright as day, flashing and then disappearing.

"Karma? Damn it! What kind of karma can a one-night stand have?" Chekhov collapsed onto the bed as if drained, and soon fell asleep.

The moonlight gently shone on his face, and a tear slid from the corner of his eye. (To be continued)