#OnePerson’sActingCanChangeSoDrastically#
The drama “Legend of the High Priest” can be described as nothing short of “hilarious”—both in terms of plot logic and acting. To put it bluntly, it’s an eyesore in every aspect. The only watchable parts are the hype around its inspiration, Su Tiao, and the widely recognized good looks of his descendant, Su Ran.
So when the scene of “Su Tiao losing his wife” aired yesterday, it was naturally a comedic highlight.
But who could have expected that after just one night, Su Ran’s acting would improve so drastically when reenacting that moment? It was as if he had been possessed by divine intervention. The scene was undeniably absurd, yet under his grief-stricken expression and deeply suppressed sorrow in his lines, it became utterly gripping. Even the onlookers couldn’t help but feel a wave of heartache washing over them.
Cameraman A sent the video to their work chat and frantically ranted to colleagues: “What the hell? Is this still Su Ran? The same Su Ran who’s won the Golden Broom Award for Worst Actor three years in a row?”
Colleague B was just as shocked: “…Did he take something? This level of improvement is unreal.”
Cameraman A: “Probably not drugs. Because right after he finished acting, I saw the little ancestor give his performance an 85. The moment Su Ran saw the score, his pain instantly transformed into pride—his emotional control was flawless. There’s no way he was high.”
Assistant director: “Damn, that sounds even scarier. Did the little ancestor really summon a spirit to possess his great-grandson?”
Cameraman A: “We’re doomed. Is Season 5 really turning into a supernatural horror show? Please, little ancestor, don’t blow up the live stream again while we’re not looking. [Lighting a candle]”
Last time, when the live stream room was inspected, the assistant director, who was busy beyond belief: “…”
Thirty seconds later, everyone tacitly deleted the entire chat history, pretending nothing had happened.
In the early morning, the atmosphere was eerily quiet.
Su Weisheng leisurely scrolled through his phone in the dining room. Bai Songyin sat on his left, wrapping a sandwich for him, while Song Qing sat on his right, carefully placing a seven-tenths-sweet soy milk beside Su Weisheng. As they worked, they both unconsciously scrutinized Su Ran, who was sitting across from them.
Su Ran was focused on eating and replenishing his energy, but their stares made him feel uncomfortable. Irritated, he snapped, “What are you looking at? Never seen a top-tier actor before?”
“…I really haven’t,” Bai Songyin murmured in a dreamy tone. “That acting, those lines… Are you really my Brother Ran? Did some deceased Best Actor reincarnate and take over your body?”
Su Ran gritted his teeth. “Bai Song, shut up.”
Su Weisheng’s phone kept buzzing—it was a message from Su Ran’s manager, He Heng. Clearly, Bai Songyin had already copied the video at the first opportunity and sent it to countless people, proudly showing off the earth-shattering transformation of his Brother Ran.
As soon as He Heng messaged Su Weisheng, he sent three kowtowing emojis as if paying respects to a great Buddha, his sincerity almost tangible.
Su Weisheng tapped on the voice message from He Heng and was immediately met with his dramatic gratitude: “Ancestor, you’re incredible!! The company spent seven years without making the slightest improvement in Su Ran’s acting skills, yet in less than a month, you’ve completely transformed him into a new person. Ancestor, you’re too amazing! I knew inviting you to take charge was the smartest decision of my life!”
He Heng continued, “I never thought Su Ran’s acting career would have a chance at revival. Oh my god, thank the heavens, thank the earth, and thank you, Ancestor!”
Then another message: “May I ask, who is the divine master who taught Su Ran how to act? To be honest, I want to bring all six members of our Ruby boy group to your doorstep just to bow down!!! No, not just us—even the ‘Little Sparks’ want to pay their respects!”
He Heng: [Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot]
Su Weisheng opened the screenshots and saw that a video comparing Su Ran’s acting before and after had already become a trending topic on Weibo within an hour. The “Little Sparks” all had the same reaction—aside from shouting, “The heavens have eyes! Su Ran is actually salvageable! Your Spark Sis is standing up again!” the rest were clamoring to build a shrine for their “Ancestor” and teachers.
He Heng was exaggerating so much that Su Ran scowled and muttered, “Spineless fools. Do they even know what real acting is…”
Even as he said that, he couldn’t resist clicking on the video. Watching himself deliver an unexpectedly exceptional performance, a satisfied smirk tugged at his lips—before he quickly suppressed it, pretending to be reserved as he commented coolly, “Not bad, I guess. But I still haven’t unleashed my full potential.”
A true top-tier idol—always lacking self-awareness, endlessly confident to an incomprehensible degree. Yet, no one around him dared to challenge him.
Su Weisheng nodded. “Yeah, it’s definitely not your full potential.”
With just one sentence, Su Ran’s arrogant expression instantly vanished, replaced by a look of shock as he stared at him in horror. “Great-grandfather, what do you mean by that?” At this moment, the once-proud young man looked like a startled bird, ready to bolt out the door at any second.
Su Weisheng calmly took out his phone and showed him the screen. “I’ve already discussed it with your manager. Starting today, your acting instructors will give you lessons every night. Each class costs 5,000 yuan, totaling 150,000 yuan a month, which your company will fully cover. This will ensure that by the time the program finishes recording, your acting skills will see a qualitative leap, allowing you to perform at your full potential in future productions.”
“More lessons?!” Any trace of smugness vanished from Su Ran’s face, replaced by a wretched, despairing wail that echoed through the skies. “Great-grandfather, have a heart! You sold your own great-grandson just for a mere 150,000 yuan?!”
Yanyi Entertainment had already transferred the 150,000 yuan into Su Weisheng’s account.
Su Weisheng, in a rather good mood, reached out and ruffled Su Ran’s hair. His tone was gentle yet polite. “What nonsense are you spouting, child? What do you mean by ‘a mere 150,000 yuan’? You’re drowning in debt and practically worthless right now. The tuition fees the company is paying are worth more than you.”
Su Ran’s face twisted in agony. “……”
A grandson in debt has no human rights. A grandson with atrocious acting skills that embarrass his elders has even less.
Su Weisheng then pulled up another video—the most ridiculed scene of them all. It was a clip of Su Ran playing the High Priest in a fight sequence. He pointed at the screen and said, “Look at what the netizens are saying. It’s all special effects—not a single real fight. You can’t even hold a sword properly, and you still had the nerve to film this?”
“They’re talking nonsense!” Su Ran looked unconvinced, arguing, “Before filming that scene, I specifically trained in swordsmanship with a martial arts instructor for a while. It’s just that the post-editing wasn’t done properly…”
Su Weisheng raised an eyebrow and said bluntly, “Then why don’t you perform a sequence for me now?”
Su Ran, who hadn’t practiced in so long that he had already forgotten the basic moves: “……”
He hesitated for a moment as if trying to recall the sequences, but before he could figure it out, his ever-eager bootlicker had already scurried over to grab the wooden sword from his luggage. Holding it up like a treasure, Bai Songyin presented it to Su Weisheng and called out loudly, “Great-grandfather, I brought the sword!”
Su Ran nearly lost his mind—damn it, Bai Songyin was an absolute traitor!
Seeing his great-grandson’s guilty expression, Su Weisheng immediately understood everything.
He let out a soft scoff and casually took the wooden sword. His slender, snow-white wrist moved with ease and precision, making the hilt spin fluidly in his palm as if it had a life of its own. A sharp sword flourish swept from behind him to the front in a flash—before suddenly pointing directly at Su Ran.
The near-tangible sword wind grazed past Su Ran’s cheek, controlled with perfect precision so that it didn’t harm him in the slightest. Yet the sheer oppressive force behind it rooted him to the spot, frozen in place, not daring to move.
“Great-grandfather…” His voice came out hoarse.
Su Weisheng let out a lazy chuckle and lightly tapped Su Ran’s cheek with the flat of the sword. “What are you so scared of? It’s just a wooden sword. Do you really think I’d hurt you?”
With that, he flicked his wrist, and the sword shot forward like a piercing strike, brushing past Su Ran’s shoulder before embedding itself straight into the wall behind him.
“Whoa—”
Gasps of awe rippled through the crowd. The onlookers, thoroughly entertained, craned their necks and widened their eyes, unwilling to miss a single detail.
It was just a simple sword flourish, yet it carried such terrifying force. Even Su Ran sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily unsure whether he was more impressed or more frightened.
Compared to Great-grandfather, the few moves he had learned during filming were utterly embarrassing. No wonder the “original” had such a hard time tolerating him.
Clearly, Su Weisheng hadn’t brought up this video just to mock his great-grandson.
He pointed at the video, then at the wooden sword, and said casually, “Tonight, you’ll practice this. Once you’ve mastered it, we’ll move on to the next lesson.”
“…Got it.”
This time, Su Ran didn’t resist. Instead, for once, he actually felt some respect for Su Weisheng—and a newfound determination to take this seriously.
The blow to his confidence was a heavy one. He didn’t even wait for the evening. After breakfast, he grabbed his wooden sword and headed straight to the backyard, practicing the move over and over again in advance.
After breakfast, everyone went about their own business. Su Weisheng lounged on the living room sofa, watching TV.
Without a sound, a tall, slender figure sat down across from him. A teasing voice, laced with amusement, drifted over.
“I was just busy backstage with the neighboring production team for a few days, and you nearly blew up my livestream again. I really can’t take my eyes off you for even a minute.”
Su Weisheng snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at his phone. Four of the top ten trending searches were related to the show:
#Su Ran’s Acting: Before & After Comparison#
#Su Ran’s Acting—Possessed by a Spirit Summoned by Great-grandfather?#
#Suddenly Looking Forward to Su Ran’s Future Performances—What Do I Do?#
#If Great-grandfather and Su Ran Star in a Show Together, I’ll Definitely Support It!#
The netizens’ imaginations never failed to be wild. Whether it was malicious speculation or curious analysis, Su Weisheng merely smiled faintly and paid them no mind.
Lifting his gaze, he met the playful, fox-like eyes of the person across from him. Calmly, he said, “Director You likes trending topics and lively drama, doesn’t he? Don’t you feel like you got more than your money’s worth with my appearance fee?”
“Hmm…”
You Sui chuckled, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Honestly, Su Ran’s acting improvement is impressive, but what truly stunned me was your sword flourish just now. Not gonna lie—scenes like that have played out in my dreams countless times.”
He paused for a moment, his voice softening as if afraid to wake from a fragile dream. “But… in my dreams, the weapon in that person’s hand wasn’t a sword—it was a fan.”
In the dream, that person stood with their back to him, wielding the fan with breathtaking mastery. Wherever they passed, a crimson mist followed, an unstoppable force of destruction.
He had stood there, frozen in place, watching. Watching those slender fingers twirl the fan effortlessly. Watching that jade-white skin tainted by the rich, carnal red of fresh blood. The sight was mesmerizing, almost intoxicating.
Alright. Got it.
This guy clearly didn’t share the same thoughts as the main soul—at least, not yet. Good. This version of You Sui wasn’t too cunning yet and much easier to deal with than the fragmented soul.
Su Weisheng made this assessment with mild satisfaction. Outwardly, however, he remained calm and obliging. “I never expected that beneath Director You’s carefree, playful exterior, there would be such a deeply romantic and devoted heart. In that case, I wish you and your dream lover an early reunion.”
You Sui sighed and murmured wistfully, “I fear that dream may never come true.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Su Weisheng asked.
You Sui straightened up slightly, leaning forward. A mischievous glint flickered in his fox-like eyes. With a half-smile, he lowered his voice as if sharing a secret.
“I have never seen my dream person’s true face,” he admitted. “But from their clothing and the stories within the dream, I can deduce that they don’t belong to this era. In fact, it’s highly possible that they were the very ancestor of your Su family—the High Priest of the past, Su Tiao.”
At that, You Sui shook his head, adopting a sorrowful expression. “But your ancestor and I belong to two different eras. How could we possibly rekindle a past fate?”
Su Weisheng regarded him calmly.
Failing to provoke an embarrassed or flustered reaction with his teasing about seniority, You Sui felt a mix of disappointment and curiosity. “You don’t believe me?”
Truthfully, he had his doubts about whether the person in his dreams was really the Su clan’s High Priest, Su Tiao. His so-called “evidence” was nothing more than an old jade fan he had bought from Su Cheng. Hardly solid proof.
Saying it now, half of it was serious speculation, and the other half was just meant to tease this always-composed little great-grandfather.
Unfortunately, it seemed like he had failed again.
“I believe you.”
Su Weisheng spoke at an unhurried pace. “You sounded so sincere—how could I not?”
His response was completely unexpected. He wasn’t the least bit flustered or upset by the generational joke. In fact, his gaze held a subtle, enigmatic meaning as he picked up the remote and switched the TV channel. Then, as if the previous conversation had never happened, he abruptly changed the topic. “Speaking of which, Director You, do you watch TV often? Something like “The Legend of the High Priest”, for example?”
Hearing the title, You Sui stared at Su Weisheng for several seconds in stunned silence before exclaiming, “You actually watch that? I thought the entire Su clan would boycott this drama! I didn’t expect you to be so open-minded—even when your ancestor has been portrayed like that?”
Su Weisheng had a hard time accepting it at first.
But after undergoing desensitization therapy, he had seen it enough times that he no longer reacted much. In fact, looking at the “female lead” in the drama, he even felt a malicious sense of vengeful satisfaction. So you forced my son to add you to my family’s genealogy? Ha, now you’ve been gender-swapped.
With a hint of mischievous amusement, Su Weisheng smiled slightly and explained calmly, “Actually, this drama isn’t as bad as you all imagine, especially when it comes to the romance. Director You, look—this delicate, soft, pitiful, and deeply devoted female lead, Le’er, fits perfectly with the descriptions of the High Priest’s wife in my family’s genealogy.”
You Sui looked utterly bewildered. “Your High Priests like this type?”
“Of course.” Su Weisheng didn’t even blink while smearing his own self. With a cheerful smile, he said, “To be honest, according to my family’s genealogy, High Priest Su Tiao had very traditional tastes—he was especially fond of gentle, devoted, and delicate little wives. Take this drama’s Le’er, for example… You could even say that his tastes were quite similar to Xie Wei’s.”
The moment that comparison was made, You Sui’s face twisted in disgust.
Su Weisheng had sacrificed himself just to disgust his opponent—he remained unfazed, even amused. Patting You Sui on the shoulder, he enjoyed the other man’s suffering before laughingly teasing, “What a shame, Director You. Even if you could travel back two hundred years, your gender and personality make it nearly impossible for you to have a passionate and entangled love story with my ancestor. Looks like you’re destined never to become the High Priest’s wife.”
You Sui was thoroughly nauseated by the words “like Xie Wei” and “fond of delicate little wives”. He strongly suspected Su Weisheng had done it on purpose. Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized the man beside him, only to find that Su Weisheng’s expression was utterly sincere, without the slightest trace of pretense.
After a brief moment, Director You ground his teeth and responded in a slow, begrudging tone, “Well, that’s just such a shame.”
On the TV screen, the High Priest happened to be gazing deeply at the pitiful female lead and calling out “Le’er” with utmost affection. This time, You Sui was truly visually assaulted. He had no interest in continuing the conversation anymore and seized the opportunity to escape the moment Song Qing arrived.
He would remember this grudge!
Su Weisheng, just wait until I get my revenge next time!
Song Qing watched the chief director’s rapidly retreating figure in confusion. “Director You left just like that?”
Unfazed, Su Weisheng calmly turned off the TV, finally giving his eyes and ears some relief. With a composed expression, he replied, “He probably had something to take care of.”
“Oh, okay.”
Song Qing, the little drama queen, had no interest in the chief director. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was around, he excitedly leaned in and whispered to Su Weisheng, “Great-Grandpa, just yesterday you said Su Ran’s acting would improve, and today he’s suddenly making leaps and bounds. Did you secretly give him some kind of career-enhancing mole?”
“Do you think I should get one too? Not gonna lie, I’ve been stuck without inspiration for ages—I haven’t been able to paint a satisfying oil painting in a long time. Great Grandpa, help me out! Save your poor child!”
Su Weisheng reached out and knocked him on the head, lazily saying, “It wasn’t a mole. I just got him a teacher who knew exactly how to help.”
“What kind of teacher works that well?”
“If you want results too, it’s not difficult,” Su Weisheng said with deep meaning. “Set a rule for yourself—starting today, paint one piece every day. If you don’t do it well, you have to earn 10,000 yuan for your dad. I guarantee that with this kind of motivation, you’ll become a great artist in no time.”
Song Qing: “…That’s completely unnecessary!” That kind of motivation was way too terrifying!
“I don’t have money to let that old bastard take to the gambling table. Besides, all my money is still in the stock market,” Song Qing muttered under his breath. Out of habit, he glanced at his phone—then suddenly let out a loud shout, startling Su Weisheng.
He frantically refreshed his stock market app again and again to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Then, bursting with excitement, he shouted, “Great grandfather! Our stocks went up again—fivefold!”
Five times—that was quite a lot.
Su Weisheng took the phone and checked. A smile appeared on his face as well. “Sell. Now is the best time.”
“Shouldn’t we wait a little longer?” Song Qing hesitated. “Judging by this trend, it could go up tenfold! We finally got to use the “Father-dooming mole” cheat—why not milk it for all it’s worth?”
Su Weisheng remained calm. “Take what you can, and don’t be greedy. Greed easily entangles you in karma.”
The moment Song Qing heard the word karma, all his hesitation vanished. He immediately followed Su Weisheng’s instructions without the slightest delay. When it was time to count the money, he was so thrilled that it all felt unreal—like a dream.
“I made almost two million!” Song Qing hugged his phone with pure happiness. “Ah Wei only pays me a monthly salary of a few tens of thousands, and now, just like that, I have my retirement fund. I could retire on the spot if I wanted to!”
Su Weisheng had earned even more—nearly four million. He took a quarter of it and donated it to a trustworthy poverty relief foundation. The remaining funds were just enough to purchase the jade raw material he had set his sights on earlier.
Meanwhile, Song Qing couldn’t wait to take his freshly earned money and show off to his husband.
“I told you the “Father-dooming mole” was useful! Look, the stock I bought went up fivefold, while the one you insisted on buying is still just sitting there… You should’ve just followed my lead from the start.”
As he spoke, he shook his head at Xie Wei with a critical look. “You see, you just have a bias against Great-Grandfather. You don’t listen to me—such a petty man.”
Xie Wei’s face darkened as he watched his little spoiled husband revel in his windfall. He couldn’t bring himself to scold or hit him, so he could only grit his teeth and warn, “Using the “Father-dooming mole” to get rich—isn’t that basically making money through shady means? Be careful, things like this can easily backfire.”
“It won’t!” Song Qing refuted this righteously. “Great-grandfather said this is just my dad paying back what he owes me! I can use this mole to make up for it! Great-grandfather is the kindest, most selfless living bodhisattva in this world—you better not slander him!”
“Kind? Selfless? You sure about that?”
Xie Wei wasn’t in a hurry to argue. He simply said slowly, “Since you’re so determined to believe he’s a selfless good man… how about we settle the full account with him?”
“You said before that he took 100,000 yuan from you to solve your dad’s problem. You think that makes him a good person, right?”
“Yeah! It was only 100,000! My dad has scammed me out of way more than that!” Song Qing answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Xie Wei looked at him blankly and reminded him, “But his method of ‘solving’ it was hiring the auntie from the village to handle your dad. The usual rate for that kind of job is pretty cheap—probably no more than 10,000. Your dear little Great-Grandfather made at least 90,000 in pure profit from you.”
Song Qing, the little drama queen, finally seemed to register what was being said. “…Huh?”
Xie Wei pressed on, “And let’s talk about the “Father-dooming mole”—he gave you that mole, and you used it to scam your dad. According to your logic, you exploited a bug to profit from the stock market. That mole helped you earn two million.”
Song Qing nodded. “Right!”
Xie Wei continued, “But your selfless little Great-Grandfather did nothing at all and made four million in pure profit. And in the future, if you ever face karmic retribution for harming your own father with this money, he’ll be completely unaffected—because he used you while taking on zero risk himself.”
Song Qing was slowly being convinced. “…Huh?”
Xie Wei let out a cold laugh, his heart aching with frustration. “So tell me—how is he a good person? He’s been using you this entire time! Qing Qing, you’ve been completely fooled by him!”
Song Qing slowly lowered his head, gripping his phone tightly, lost in thought.
The phone screen lit up again and again before finally settling into silence.
Xie Wei saw that his little spoiled wife looked completely crushed, deeply affected by the revelation. He had finally managed to crack through that stubborn loyalty. A wave of satisfaction washed over him. Seizing the opportunity, he quickly softened his tone and urged, “Qing Qing, stay away from that grandfather-grandson duo. You’re too naive—Su Ran’s great-grandfather has been scheming against you this whole time…”
Before he could finish, Song Qing suddenly lifted his head, his bright eyes shimmering as if he were about to cry.
Xie Wei’s heart clenched in pain, and he suddenly started reflecting—had he gone too far?
Then, he heard Song Qing’s trembling voice say, “But hubby… when I listened to Great-Grandfather, he helped me make a clean two million. You didn’t listen to Great-Grandfather. Now, your stock might crash so hard even your own mother wouldn’t recognize it…”
Xie Wei froze. “…What?”
Song Qing’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked at his husband with pure sympathy. “Don’t rush to lecture me—check your phone first. The stock I told you to sell? I warned you it had been tested using my scumbag dad, but you ignored me. And now? Well, it’s about to hit the lower limit… Hubby, this is so tragic. Are you going bankrupt?”
Xie Wei: ???
What the f—?!
That night, none of the four guests in the villa were destined to get a good night’s sleep.
Some were busy examining their freshly acquired jade embryo, pondering what kind of magical artifact to craft. Some were trapped in a dream, wailing like ghosts as they endured a brutal crash course in acting. Others were staring blankly at their plummeting stocks, questioning their life choices—while right beside them sat a heartless little spoiled wife who had just stabbed them in the back.
“Hubby, I told you to trust Great-Grandfather. But no, you had to go against him to his face and then try to sow discord between us behind his back. See? Now you’re getting your karma.”
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