WOULD YOU RATHER...

Go on a road trip with Xie Lian, but every time you hit a bump, he insists it’s a sign from the gods and must interpret its meaning.

You’re cruising down the highway with Xie Lian in the passenger seat, a serene smile on his face and a bag of snacks that look suspiciously like they’ve been preserved for centuries. It all starts off fine—he’s cheerful, polite, and hums soothing melodies as the scenery rolls by. But then it happens: the car hits the smallest bump in the road, and everything changes.

Xie Lian sits bolt upright, his eyes wide with revelation. “Did you feel that? That wasn’t just a bump—that was a divine message! We must interpret its meaning immediately!” He pulls out a small notebook (where did he even get that?) and starts scribbling furiously. Is it a warning? A blessing? A cryptic prophecy about the price of gas? He won’t rest until he figures it out.

Just as you’re convincing him to let it go and continue driving, you pass a small, nondescript shrine on the side of the road. “Stop the car!” Xie Lian exclaims. “We must offer incense—it would be disrespectful not to!” Before you know it, you’re pulled over, standing awkwardly by the shrine while Xie Lian kneels, murmuring prayers, and fumbling with a stick of incense he’s pulled out of nowhere. This isn’t even the first time today.

The journey, which should’ve been a simple road trip, turns into a zigzagging pilgrimage as Xie Lian insists on stopping at every single temple, shrine, and vaguely sacred-looking rock along the way. You lose track of how many offerings you’ve made and how many times he’s paused to “receive guidance.” The snacks he insists on sharing with you don’t help—are they made of roots? Bark? You’re pretty sure one of them is just a very old rice cake.

To make matters worse, Xie Lian’s sense of direction is… questionable at best. You frequently find yourselves on backroads that don’t seem to be on any map. Every time you ask if he knows where you’re going, he just smiles and hums a tune, saying, “Sometimes, the journey is more important than the destination!”

And yet, as frustrating as it can be, there’s a strange charm to it all. Despite the detours and delays, Xie Lian’s unfailing optimism and gentle humor make the trip surprisingly enjoyable. Whether he’s deciphering the “bump prophecies” or offering you a strange-but-sincere snack, he somehow keeps the mood light—even when you’re hopelessly lost.

So, the question is: Are you ready for a road trip filled with divine signs, endless shrine visits, and snacks that taste like ancient history? Or would you rather drive solo and miss out on the chaos and charm of traveling with Xie Lian?

OR

Compete in a cooking contest with Hua Cheng, but here’s the fun twist: he only uses ingredients he picks out with his supernatural abilities.

The stage is set for the ultimate cooking showdown, and standing across from you is none other than Hua Cheng, the Smiling Ghost King himself. The crowd watches with bated breath as the two of you prepare to face off, but there’s one glaring issue: Hua Cheng has no intention of playing by normal rules.

While you frantically gather fresh vegetables, spices, and a trusty cookbook, Hua Cheng casually snaps his fingers and summons his “ingredients” from thin air. A shimmering black mist swirls into his station, depositing mysterious objects that range from harmless-looking herbs to things that might still be moving. One of them blinks at you before he deftly tosses it into the pot with an infuriating smirk.

His confidence is maddening. Hua Cheng works with the grace of someone who doesn’t just cook—he creates. His "blackened dumplings" are wrapped in inky dough that glistens like starlight, while his "mystical fried rice" seems to sparkle with an ethereal glow. The audience gasps as faint, ghostly shapes swirl out of his dishes like steam, adding to the otherworldly allure. "A little something extra," he says, flashing you a grin that’s equal parts charming and infuriating.

Meanwhile, you’re sweating bullets, armed with nothing but a basic knife set and mortal ingredients. Every time you glance over, Hua Cheng seems to notice, his crimson eye sparkling with amusement. “Need a hand?” he teases, tossing a pinch of who-knows-what into his dish, making it smell so good that even the judges look visibly tempted.

But it’s not just his cooking that’s distracting—it’s him. His effortless charm and cocky attitude start getting under your skin. He hums a little tune as he cooks, occasionally shooting you a wink or casually spinning a knife with showy precision. You know you’re supposed to focus, but it’s hard when your rival is basically the culinary equivalent of a rock star.

As the clock ticks down, you scramble to plate your dish—a solid effort, if not exactly magical. Meanwhile, Hua Cheng steps back with perfect timing, his dishes looking like they belong in a dark fantasy banquet. The crowd erupts in applause, and you can’t help but wonder: Is there even a point to trying to beat someone who can bend the laws of cooking (and reality) to his will?

Still, despite the chaos and the clear advantage he has, Hua Cheng’s playful attitude keeps the contest from feeling like a total loss. At the end of the day, whether you win or lose, you’ll leave with the knowledge that you went spatula-to-spatula with the Ghost King himself. The real question is: Will you walk away proud of your effort, or will you forever dream about what exactly went into those glowing dumplings?