Li Li didn't prepare too much for this. During summer breaks, she often went down the mountain with her Elder Uncles to perform Taoist ceremonies, facing crowds ranging from dozens to hundreds. She always handled it with ease. Now, it was just a classroom presentation—Li Li wasn't nervous.
She first made a simple PowerPoint, briefly introducing Taoist culture and some sacrificial rituals, and then performed a "Rain Invocation Dance" live.
As majestic, atmospheric music played from the speakers, the professor and her classmates were instantly drawn into a solemn, sacred vibe.
Heavy drumbeats punctuated the music. Li Li moved with the rhythm—stepping, extending her arms, performing the ancient ritual steps.
Though dressed in modern clothes—hoodie and jeans—her expressionless face and slightly lowered eyes inexplicably conveyed a compassionate divinity. Her feet landed on every drumbeat with heavy precision. The vibrations should have come from the classroom speakers, but because Li Li's timing was so perfect, it felt as if each step *she* took was shaking the floor.
Everyone involuntarily held their breath.
A desolate, ancient instrument broke through the heavy drumbeats. The music paused for a moment—as if the descended deity had stopped, waiting for mortals to voice their pleas.
Li Li slowly opened her mouth and chanted, her voice hovering between speaking and singing:
"*Wǔ dì wǔ lóng, jiàng guāng xíng fēng. Guǎng bù rùn zé, fǔ zuǒ léi gōng...*"
(Five Emperors, Five Dragons; descend in light, ride the wind. Spread moisture wide, assist the Thunder Lord...)
Her voice was clear and ethereal, the melody lingering in the silent classroom.
The drumbeats resumed, now matching the rhythm of Li Li's chant.
She danced while chanting, the tempo growing faster and faster. The drums accelerated—like the combined heartbeat of thousands of people, like the desperate prayers of countless mortals looking to the sky.
"*...Shén fú mìng rǔ, cháng chuān tīng cóng!*"
(By Divine Decree, obey eternally!)
As Li Li uttered the final command, the music cut out.
*BOOM!*
A tremendous, earth-shaking thunderclap roared right outside the window.
The classroom descended into chaos. Panicked screams erupted. Some timid students were already hugging each other, shouting, "Oh my god!"
The professor clutched his chest, trying to maintain his composure while looking at Li Li with a mix of shock and suspicion.
Outside, the sky had turned black. A raging storm pelted the windows, creating a deafening rattle.
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The downpour had arrived.
Li Li: "..."
*Crap. I forgot the weather forecast said rain today.*
Fortunately, the professor was experienced. He quickly regained control of the room, steering the discussion back to academic analysis of "performance art" and "coincidence."
Li Li pulled her USB drive from the computer and walked expressionlessly back to her corner seat.
But perhaps the impact of the ritual was too strong. For every step Li Li took forward, her classmates leaned back, parting like the Red Sea, terrified of her approach.
Li Li: "..."
*Seriously?*
Being the weirdo who secretly folded **gold ingots** in the corner was already bad enough. Now, her image seemed to have permanently shifted from "quiet student" to "shamaness."
She just wanted to be an ordinary international student coasting through for a diploma!
The professor resumed his lecture. Sitting in the corner, Li Li could still feel furtive glances landing on her from all directions.
If she turned to look, the peepers would snap their heads back like startled birds.
Li Li sighed internally. *It's fine. They'll go home, eat dinner, scroll through TikTok, and forget all about this.*
For the rest of the class, Li Li sat bolt upright, obediently listening like a model student.
She needed to minimize her presence. Be a wooden board. Be invisible.
The moment class ended, Li Li packed her bag at lightspeed and hunched over, practically sneaking out of the room.
She thought things would improve once she left the building, but outside, the stares intensified.
Students walking while looking at their phones would glance up, spot Li Li, and freeze, staring at her as if she were a cryptid.
The further she walked, the more people stared.
Li Li touched her face, frowning. *Is there dirt on my nose?*
She had brought an umbrella, but the wind was too strong. She hailed a taxi, braving the storm to reach the school gate. By the time she got in the car, her shoes, socks, and pants were soaked, clinging uncomfortably to her skin.
Traffic was gridlocked due to the rain. To distract herself, Li Li opened a short-video app.
She hadn't swiped twice before her own face popped up.
**[OMG, I didn't think it would actually rain! ??]**
The caption read: *Chinese girl in my class performed an ancient rain dance for a presentation—and then THIS happened!*
The video showed clips of Li Li performing. The filmer was in the back row; the zoomed-in quality was grainy and shaky. Yet, this very blurriness added a layer of "found footage" horror/sacredness to her movements.
When Li Li chanted the final line and the thunder cracked, the camera shook violently as the filmer jumped. Screams erupted, the scene went chaotic, and the video cut.
It was a long video—usually death for the algorithm—but the likes and comments were skyrocketing. It was going viral.
Li Li opened the comments section.
**[User1]:** *Chinese Kung Fu is real! ??*
**[User2]:** *So THIS is why I got drenched walking to the cafeteria? Thanks a lot. I'm literally dripping wet in McDonald's rn. ??*
**[User3]:** *She dances really well, but can we tell her to stop? I need to drive home soon.*
**[User4]:** *No magic displays in front of muggles! The Ministry will hear about this.*
**[User5]:** *I felt like I was in a trance watching this. Her voice is crazy.*
**[User6]:** *Bro, I've read enough Xianxia novels to know a Grandmaster when I see one. Do not offend her.*
**[User7]:** *Is this real? Did she actually summon the rain?*
Under this comment, a skeptic replied:
**[User8]:** *Actually dude, if you checked the weather app yesterday, Siri predicted this storm 24 hours ago. [Screenshot]*
The OP replied: **[User8]:** *Beautiful coincidence then. ??*
Seeing this, Li Li sighed in relief and immediately liked the skeptic's comment, helping push it to the top.
*Thank goodness. Some people still believe in science.*
Li Li scrolled further. Most people were just joking. No one took it seriously. She relaxed.
Suddenly, a jarring comment popped up:
**[K-Netizen]:** *This is actually a Korean rain-invocation dance. Our culture is so beautiful!*
Li Li’s face went flat. She immediately hit **"Dislike"** and **"Report."**
The taxi finally arrived at her building. Li Li thanked the driver, got out, and rushed upstairs to shower and change.
The chant Li Li performs is adapted from an actual Taoist scripture used to pray for rain. The "Five Emperors and Five Dragons" refer to deities governing the elements.
As for the viral video... welcome to Li Li's life. Accidentally summoning a storm during a class presentation is just a typical Tuesday.
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