If you've ever dipped your toes into Chinese fantasy dramas, you probably know the struggle: they often feel like a mixed bag. And yet, we keep watching. The pull of traditional Chinese fantasy is strong—even after 100 disappointments, we'll still click on the 101st one hoping for something special.
To everyone who's been holding out for a miracle: it's here. Busi Yi: Strange Tales (不思异：志怪) is a low-budget web drama with no big stars, no trending hashtags, and no marketing push. But somehow, it nails what so many high-budget dramas miss—style, substance, and that elusive "right vibe" for Chinese supernatural stories.
The Aesthetic We've Been Waiting For
Set in a mysterious town plagued by spirits and demons, Busi Yi: Strange Tales follows a monster-hunting squad led by Wu Jin, a former general who gains powers from the Moon Tribe. Alongside him are Yu Hui, the son of an old friend; Shui Yao, a rival-turned-ally; Li Yan, a quiet scholar; and Song Zhiru, a savvy innkeeper. Each episode pits them against strange beings—some malicious, some misunderstood—all while their own backstories start to unravel.
What stands out first isn't the plot—it's the atmosphere. This show understands that fantasy isn't just about magic; it's about pulling you into a world that feels rich, eerie, and oddly believable. From costumes to camera work, it's all surprisingly polished for a series working on a shoestring budget.
There are more than a dozen monsters in the show, and none feel like cookie-cutter CGI blobs. The designs are tailored to each creature's personality. Take Da Ju, the orange tabby cat spirit: he's fast, curious, obsessed with fish snacks—and easily distracted by shiny light spots. Instead of fighting him with magic, the team uses good old cat psychology. It's oddly relatable and very funny if you've ever lived with a feline dictator.
Then there's Ma Jie Fu, a male fox demon. Not your usual pretty-boy seducer—he's got elaborate red makeup, exaggerated warrior robes, and affectionate animal-like mannerisms. The design sits right in the uncanny zone between "weird" and "enchanting."
The shadow puppet couple? One wears a crown with delicate floral motifs, the other's headpiece twists into stormy cloud shapes. These little contrasts hint at deeper emotional states—her clinging to past peace, him consumed by bitterness. You don't need exposition dumps; the costumes do the talking.
Visually, the drama uses tools rarely seen in its genre. Scenes are shot in anamorphic 2.4:1 widescreen, giving it a cinematic edge. Fish-eye lenses subtly warp backgrounds, making normal rooms feel unsettling. Instead of relying on heavy post-production filters, the lighting team plays with candlelight, moonlight, even fog machines to build that dreamy, haunting atmosphere.
In fact, most of the special effects are practical. The strange purple glow of another world? Just cleverly placed LED lights and a huge fan. That creepy entrance by the fox demon? Done with a smoke machine. It's "DIY horror" in the best way—tangible, grounded, and strangely charming.
The soundtrack is another surprise win. Each creature gets their own theme: a wailing suona (唢呐) to introduce a ghost bride, a mischief-filled erhu riff for Da Ju, a whispery flute line for the seductive fox spirit. The composers mix traditional instruments with electronic textures to give it both ancient and modern vibes. No musical wallpaper here—each note helps build the story.
Classic Ghost Stories, Modern Twists
The drama pulls inspiration from traditional Chinese supernatural literature, including Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio (聊斋志异), Zi Bu Yu (子不语), Youyang Zazu (酉阳杂俎), and others. Fans of these texts will spot nods and reimaginings throughout the show.
But Busi Yi isn't just a tribute—it's a smart remix. The writers take old stories and reframe them through modern lenses.
Take Ma Jie Fu again. In Strange Tales, he's a magician caught in a domestic spat. Here, he becomes a grateful fox spirit who takes human form to repay a woman's kindness. But when he falls in love, she turns him down, gently but firmly: "Gratitude isn't love." It's a surprisingly mature moment—one that challenges traditional gender roles and emotional dependencies.
Another standout is the reworking of "Changxu Kingdom", originally a tale about a scholar marrying a foreign princess only to discover it was all an illusion. The show turns this into a deeper narrative about memory, war, and class. Shui Yao, once a princess of a fallen kingdom, now lives as a wandering warrior. Her return to a ruined homeland reveals not only political tragedy but personal grief. The show doesn't side with kings or rebels—it gives space to ordinary people caught in the crossfire.
That's what makes Busi Yi feel fresh: it doesn't just recreate myths; it questions them.
Women Who Fight, Think, and Push Back
The female characters here aren't just accessories to the plot—they carry it. Song Zhiru, the innkeeper, runs her business with sharp instincts and zero patience for nonsense. Shui Yao, the warrior, evolves from lone wolf to loyal friend. Yang Yuanqing, once trapped in an abusive marriage, breaks free and rejects the idea that women owe men anything just because they were "saved."
Then there's Grandma Kong, who recounts the painful history of women's bodies—foot-binding, breast-cutting, even ritual sacrifice. Her bitterness turns her into a threat, but her story reminds us how trauma can twist victims into villains. This is dark, layered writing you rarely see in genre TV.
Busi Yi: Strange Tales may not trend on Twitter or top Netflix charts, but it deserves a spot on your watchlist. It's proof that Chinese fantasy doesn't need blockbuster budgets or superstar casts to shine. What it needs is a team that actually cares about the genre—not just its aesthetics, but its roots, themes, and emotional weight.
In a sea of glossy but empty dramas, Busi Yi feels real, weird, and wonderfully alive.
