My name is Zhang Chan. Before you read on, hear me out. They’ve told me more than once that I must never tell anyone about this. Causing panic is the least of their worries. Ordinary people simply don’t need to know these secrets, and they have no right to know them.
“We can’t do anything about it, but we can make your life a living hell. What you’ve experienced and seen, whether it was people, things that weren’t people, or anything else, you’d better never tell a soul for as long as you live!”
But sometimes... they also say...
“Even if I told people, I doubt anyone would believe me. At most, they’d take it as a bedtime story. If I’m lucky, they might give it a good review and say a few nice things. But I could just as easily run into some contrarian who starts tearing into me...”
For many years, I’ve had the same dream countless times. Or maybe they aren’t the same dream, but I always dream of the same place.
A night of torrential rain and lightning, so dark I can’t see my hand in front of me. An eerie forest stretching as far as the eye can see. A lake, deep green and bottomless, with no way to reach its depths... Darkness fills my vision, but I’m certain there’s something in it! It moves very quietly, but I can tell it’s enormous. It’s dangerous, and it could easily kill me!
Nonsense literature! Every time I write about a tense plot, I like to drag the audience's emotions into an unpleasant description. For example, when writing about a master fighting a savage, you don't write about how nervous you and your senior brother are to save it, but you have to write about what's going on in your heart 😄😄😄😄😄
It's pretty good. There have been a lot of people writing about Ailao Mountain in the past two days.