Heads up: lots of in-universe drama descriptions ahead, skip if that's not your thing.

[KM Always Asleep]:

[——

As one of the screenwriters for A Demolition Office Is Not Ordinary, which is about to air, I've been sitting on a pile of things I need to say.

A person with no standout qualities — not in looks, personality, or life experience. What does the future hold for someone like that?

The old me had no idea, and I avoided thinking about it. Because I was broke and inexperienced, the thought scared me.

If I looked too clearly at that barren stretch of future ahead, I might have broken down crying.

Back then, writing fanfic was my only outlet.

Back then, readers' enthusiastic responses were my biggest motivation to keep updating. It was the first time I ever felt proud of myself.

Carried along by my readers like that, three months into the serialization, I got a second reason to feel proud — or maybe just stunned.

I had a new future.

That was when I found out Sang Yu had decided to rework the romance arc, and — on the advice of the original author, Chihong Chen Teacher — to 'treat the root cause.'

Sang Yu didn't just reach out to me; other writers were commissioned too, targeted assignments, all to deliver the best possible result on screen.

Chihong Chen Teacher was also generous enough to take on board suggestions from a newbie like me.

What Sang Yu wanted — a female A and male O dynamic that never felt rigid, two leads who each had their own strengths.

……

——]

·

One little essay. Pure hype, honestly...

Sang Yu covered his own mouth.

Embarrassing.

You have to understand — ever since he'd bonded with the tycoon system, Sang Yu's life had become far more forgiving, and he hadn't felt embarrassed in ages.

Yin Rong and the team would selectively use Sang Yu's early project prep work as promotional material, but not like this.

The first half hyped up how much effort went into the romance arc; the second half hyped up the talent-spotter angle — how he had an eye for finding exactly the right actors.

The comments section went even harder.

They hyped Aurora Entertainment as the industry's conscience, the gold standard. Déjà vu (Sang Yu had to ask himself: Aurora Entertainment is getting this treatment again — are we really going down this Marketing Account road?).

Of course a company that respects its writers and its audience can produce good work. Mindlessly rallying behind Aurora Entertainment's new release.

Sang Yu: '……'

Okay, my astroturfers are going overboard.

Objectively speaking, though, there wasn't a single exaggerated claim in Yue Kemeng's little essay. He couldn't even push back on any of it.

Stop putting me on a pedestal.

This hype strategy — don't use it again next time. Try something else.

But the Marketing Account wouldn't let it go.

Some entertainment bloggers solemnly discussed with their followers why Aurora-produced content was basically guaranteed to be good.

Sang Yu: '……'

Setting aside all that noise — as a fan of the original novel, Sang Yu was genuinely looking forward to The Demolition Office.

He'd watched plenty of adaptations that butchered the source, dragging an 80-point story down to 60. This was the first time he'd seen one go from 80 up to 90.

(Those extra 10 points came from cutting the irritating harem-adjacent ambiguity and cementing the leads' relationship properly.)

He was actually a little nervous.

What was that about?

·

Sang Yu turned down Xi Xingfa's invitation to watch The Demolition Office together, went home to watch it with Sang Ying instead — more objective that way.

— Xi Xingfa would probably just hype it up too.

Everyone was home today.

Pretty lively.

The whole family gathered in one place — you can't just sit there talking, so watching TV became the family activity.

Grandpa and Grandma were more into anti-Japanese war dramas, melodramas, and crime-busting shows, but they weren't going to be buzzkills.

Liu Ping wasn't really a TV person — she preferred audiobooks and short dramas — but same deal, she went along with it.

Sang Ying took on the job of briefing everyone.

She ran through the plot summary first.

'The main character is just a regular worker, and one day he ends up joining this Demolition Office unit that connects the underworld and the human world — working as a customer service rep.'

Grandpa: 'Is it a government position?'

Old Lady: 'Government positions require exams. He's on a contract.'

Grandpa: 'Don't contract workers have to pass exams too?'

Old Lady: 'Well he got in somehow, didn't he? Shouldn't the office director be writing a self-criticism report over this?'

The two of them riffing off each other with their dry humor nearly killed Sang Yu.

The family had always placed a lot of weight on stable government jobs.

That's why they'd wanted Sang Ying to pick an education major in college — the whole stack of application forms only differed by which school's program it was.

But ever since Sang Yu made it big, the family's fixation on teachers and civil servants — those 'set for life' careers — had faded.

Enough savings in the bank = peace of mind.

So not just Liu Ping, but even the two grandparents who'd pinched pennies for most of their lives had started learning to enjoy themselves.

This time, watching The Demolition Office — a story with a supernatural edge — the two old folks were pretty into it.

Amid all the banter, they finally waited for the show to start.

Opening scene...

Ads!

They had VIP so they skipped the pre-roll, but the platform had its own built-in ads, and after that came a whole stack of 'XX invites you to watch' sponsor spots.

Those ads ran not just at the start and end but in the middle too. Wedged in wherever they could fit.

Not that it was surprising — the opening slot gets the best traffic, so anyone with money throws ads in there.

One finished, another started; that one ended, here came a third... forget counting, just skip ahead.

No one knew how many times the (>) button got pressed before they finally hit the actual episode.

Opening shot: Xuan Leron's 'Chen Le' in a tiny rental apartment, eating instant noodles.

Chen Le was sending a voice message to a friend: 'I got laid off but I still have to job hunt — my savings won't even cover next quarter's rent.'

'But here's the thing — if I don't send out applications I'm anxious, and when HR actually replies I'm even more anxious.'

Friend: 'That shoebox room of yours is eighteen hundred a month — why not give it up and rent something cheaper over in Jianxi District?'

Chen Le looked utterly miserable.

'All the companies that match my major are in the same area. Jianxi District means bus, then subway, then bus again... three to four hours of commuting.'

Friend, breaking down: 'What can you do — design roles in our field are saturated, and even if you get hired the monthly pay is only three or four thousand.'

Good pacing.

A few lines of dialogue and you already knew the protagonist's background, current situation, and the problems he was up against.

Chen Le sighed too.

The instant noodles tasted like nothing. He got up to grab a sausage to throw in.

The cheap kind. Bought with coupons — ten for a cent, big brand.

But the room was so tiny — the 'shoebox' description was no exaggeration — and on the way back he smashed his shin on the bed frame, face twisting in pain.

'Hss...'

Chen Le collapsed weakly onto the bed.

Sang Yu felt that in his soul.

At this point Xuan Leron wasn't in the Demolition Office yet, hadn't put on that figure-hugging uniform — he was dressed like a regular college grad.

Oversized short-sleeve shirt, athletic joggers, hair unkempt, face that looked like he wasn't wearing makeup, lips on the pale side.

One look and you could tell life wasn't treating him well.

Sang Yu's grandparents felt it too.

Back when Sang Yu was working in the city, the old folks would see him come home on weekends looking rough and sometimes cook a meal and bring it down to the office building.

It was a sweet burden for Sang Yu — he'd tried to talk them out of it, since they were getting on in years and takeout was fine — but the grandparents felt like bringing fresh food was the only way they could help. They insisted on coming; if he said no they'd get upset.

On the big screen, the show kept going.

Chen Le was idly scrolling a job app when a push notification arrived from the Tongshang District Demolition Office.

Not even two minutes into the actual episode, and the pacing was already fast.

Chen Le's first instinct was disbelief — could a government office like that really be hiring? He clicked in to check the requirements: outsourced customer service.

Chen Le: '……'

Chen Le decided to ask AI.

[Would a Demolition Office hire ordinary people without a government position?]

Very on-brand for today's young people — when in doubt, ask AI.

Baidu was out. First page was all ads, couldn't find anything useful.

AI's answer: possibly.

A demolition office is essentially a temporary department; aside from seconding staff from other units, it might also take on temporary hires.

Chen Le: ...Welp, I'm going!

First, get presentable.

It was an interview, after all — had to look the part.

There was a brief shot selling Xuan Leron's figure, but it flashed by fast — blink and you'd miss it, clearly going for the fishing-hook effect rather than a full display.

Chen Le took the subway to the address HR had given. On the way, he didn't notice that the scenery around him had shifted in subtle, unsettling ways.

A sense of foreboding.

But the protagonist didn't pick up on it.

He arrived without a hitch at a gleaming high-rise... and then looked at the three-story shopfront next to the intersection beside it, exterior walls crumbling.

Felt abandoned. Chen Le swallowed. Was this a budget cut?

He steeled himself and went in.

'Woof woof woof——!'

The moment he stepped through the door a big black dog came charging at him barking, scared Chen Le half to death — but then the Black Dog immediately switched to whimpering and nuzzling up to him.

Wanting pets.

Chen Le, too busy panicking, didn't notice that some dark shadows had slipped off his body and failed to pass through the main door.

Liu Ping was curious: 'So he had ghosts attached to him?'

'Obviously.'

Once inside the Demolition Office, Chen Le felt the air conditioning was cranked up way too high.

The place was dead quiet, there was a guard dog that made you think twice about moving, and Chen Le was debating whether to call HR — when:

'You here?'

Chen Le turned around.

He was looking at a classically handsome man with his hair tied back and an expression of total indifference.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, gaze dark and cold: 'You shouldn't be here.'

Chen Le felt thoroughly unwelcome. This guy was something else.

But beggars can't be choosers — Chen Le forced out a professional smile: 'I'm here for an interview. Is this the Tongshang District Demolition Office?'

The man froze.

Then his brow furrowed hard.

……

After that, Chen Le joined the Demolition Office.

The supervisors and colleagues in the office were none of them ordinary people — each one a fragment of a great being that had left a trace in the mortal world.

In the original novel they were written clearly enough that you could map them directly to their counterparts — the City God, Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, the Emperor of Fengdu.

The drama kept it vague.

But even viewers who hadn't read the source could tell from the cinematography that these figures were each extraordinary, each hiding something beneath the surface.

Chen Le had barely settled into his customer service seat when one of the ghost officers — the female partner of that cold, handsome man — handed him a bracelet.

A braided red cord threaded with small beads of quality gold and jade.

Chen Le: '……!'

'G-give it to me? No no no, Ma Jie, do you know how much gold costs right now?! Even a few tiny beads like that must weigh a few grams?!'

Ma Jie gave a mysterious smile. 'Keep it. It's a welcome gift. A promotion and a raise — they'll come sooner than you think.'

Chen Le, blinded by money, resolved to give his all for the company.

Then the very first customer inquiry he handled was a bad omen.

[Where is my home?]

[Do you know where my home is? I can't remember. I want to go home, I want to go home and see my child, I want to go home]

Chen Le was completely thrown. How could someone not know where their own home was for a demolition inquiry?

He was about to ignore it, but the resentment coming off the other side was too heavy — blood started seeping across the computer screen and a woman's shriek rang out.

He jumped.

There's a ghost!

But when he blinked again, it was gone.

The director leaned in over his tea cup, eyes narrowing into a smile: 'Little Chen, your job is to respond to every single customer inquiry, okay?'

Chen Le mumbled a yes.

The boss had spoken. Chen Le, who'd been a quiet, studious kid since childhood, didn't say much — he gritted his teeth and kept going.

The inquiries kept coming.

Chen Le dug deep for patience, soothing the other side and asking her to keep talking. And then they kept talking.

The other person's words were all over the place, like someone losing their mind — but the longer Chen Le talked to her, the colder he felt all over.

The customer on the other end was a woman who had boarded a train to visit relatives and vanished — in reality, she had been trafficked deep into the mountains.

Short, small-boned. Compared to others, at six or seven months pregnant she barely showed even in clothes.

She woke up one day in the middle of nowhere, heard people haggling over her like she was a cut of pork — picking and choosing.

'You expect me to raise someone else's bastard?'

'A pregnant one's even better — you know that woman from the next village, the one who sounds so educated, a college graduate? Couldn't lay an egg, could she?!'

'Don't want her. Pay to get rid of it.'

'Brother, if she drops a boy, that's another pair of hands for the family — if it's a girl... heh heh heh.'

……

She tried to run.

Ran, couldn't get away, got beaten badly enough to lose teeth. The daughter she gave birth to gained a Shan Niang.

One who, when lucid, went wild trying to escape with her child. One who, when the episodes hit, hid her daughter under her clothes — that was Shan Niang.

Chen Le couldn't tell if the other person was joking, messing with him, or had some other reason — all he could do was urge her to call the police.

If she could reach the Demolition Office's customer service, she could definitely get online.

[Call the police? I'm already dead. Call the police? Just help me — find where I died, okay? Where's my grave?]

[Please — save my daughter——]

Red everywhere.

'Bang!'

The sound of a stool hitting the floor.

The whole office looked over, but it was as quiet as if no one was there at all — the only sound was Chen Le's shaky, unsteady breathing.

'Mr. Huang... I actually just saw a ghost?!'

Mr. Huang handed him a stack of bonus cash, thick enough to be exactly fifty thousand.

'Little Chen, it was probably just your imagination. Here — go pay your rent.'

Chen Le's brain short-circuited at the sight of all that pink cash. Way too thick! How much was in there?! It was practically spilling out of his hands.

Wait... Mr. Huang knew he needed to pay rent...

Chen Le bolted for the door.

But just when he thought he'd made it out, he turned around — and Mr. Huang was standing right behind him, smiling pleasantly in a way that made his skin crawl.

Halfway through the first episode, the show started laying out the backstory of this unusual Demolition Office.

Many wandering spirits — most of them people who had died unnatural deaths before their time — drifted day and night, full of resentment, unwilling to reincarnate.

The Demolition Office's job was this: to help them die in peace, resolve their grievances, and after a proper burial, guide them across to the other side.

As for why it was called a Demolition Office?

Moving graves is also a kind of 'demolition.'

Because most of these people had died under unknown circumstances, never properly buried, their loved ones unable to hold rites for them — their souls were adrift, rootless.

Shan Niang, the customer Chen Le had just handled, was one of them.

The show flashed back through Shan Niang's memories. Shot in a way that wrung tears out of you, the kind of ache that settled deep in your chest.

……

After watching most of the first episode, Sang Yu let out a breath — it felt authentic, and genuinely gripping. The effect was solid.

He wondered what the family thought.

He turned to look — Grandpa and Grandma had already started wiping their eyes over Shan Niang's tragic fate and her desperate, terrified determination to protect her daughter.

Old Lady had the sharper temper of the two — she'd been cursing the whole time: 'beasts,' 'what a sin,' 'heaven is blind'...

Sang Yu: '……'

He'd forgotten — this arc could hit just as hard as any melodrama.