Setting:
A cozy apartment in Shanghai, decorated for Chinese New Year. Red lanterns sway gently by the window. It’s 11:45 PM on New Year’s Eve. Hot dumplings steam on the table.
Wen (the superstitious friend):
(holds up his phone)
Okay, just fifteen minutes to midnight. Don’t forget—we must open all the doors and windows at exactly 12:00. We’ve got to let the bad luck out and the good fortune in!
Jia (the rational thinker):
(raising an eyebrow, sipping tea)
Wen, it’s 3°C outside. Opening every window is less “welcoming fortune” and more “welcoming pneumonia.”
Wen:
(grinning)
A little cold never hurt anyone. But not letting the bad qi out? That’s dangerous. My aunt didn’t open the windows last year. Guess what happened? Her cat got stuck in a washing machine.
Jia:
(laughs)
You think the misfortune was from the window, or maybe from the cat’s curiosity and your aunt not checking the laundry properly?
Wen:
You laugh now, but the same year she forgot to open the door—she also lost her job and her favorite jade bracelet cracked. Coincidence? I think not.
Jia:
Okay, let’s test your logic. I didn’t open any windows last year. And what happened to me?
Wen:
Hmm… you did have that weird stomach bug in February.
Jia:
(smirking)
Because I ate street barbecue at 2 AM from a cart with a sign that said “Mostly Clean Meat.”
Wen:
(mock serious)
See? The evil spirits led you to the meat. They thrive in stale, unlucky air.
Jia:
(laughs)
Come on, Wen. Let’s think about this. Luck isn’t a gas you air out. If anything, you’re just lowering your thermostat and raising your heating bill.
Wen:
But don’t you believe in symbolism? I mean, we clean the house before New Year’s, we wear red, we eat dumplings for prosperity—why not open the windows too?
Jia:
Sure, I love traditions. They give meaning and a sense of continuity. But I like to separate tradition from superstition. Cleaning the house? Hygienic. Dumplings? Delicious. Opening windows at midnight? Meh.
Wen:
You’re too logical, Jia. Some things can’t be measured or proved. My grandmother says if you ignore the old ways, the ancestors get grumpy.
Jia:
(grinning)
Your grandmother also says eating garlic keeps ghosts away. Yet here I am, alive and well, despite my garlic allergy.
Wen:
(pretends to gasp)
Maybe you’re a ghost!
Jia:
I do haunt scientific debates…
Wen:
(playfully pushing Jia)
Look, it’s not about cold air or evidence. It’s about doing our part to stay in harmony with the universe. You’ve got your logic, I’ve got my qi. Let me have my midnight ritual.
Jia:
(shrugs and smiles)
Fair enough. I’ll compromise—how about we open one window for five minutes? Then we both win. You get your symbolic breeze, and I don’t freeze to death.
Wen:
Deal! But next year, I’m making you burn incense with me.
Jia:
Only if I can wear a lab coat while doing it.
(They laugh together as the clock ticks toward midnight. Wen rushes to the window, flinging it open dramatically as firecrackers begin to boom outside. Jia wraps a scarf around his neck and watches, amused.)
End Scene
Science Vs Superstition 
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